First, a random note.  I have this massive purple bruise on my left kneecap which looks like it clearly hurt when I did it, but I can’t for the life of me remember hitting it.  I was cleaning yesterday, so I’m sure I knocked it on something or other then, but yeah, I have no memory of it.

Okay, I promised escapades and a weird dream (but I have two of those now), so here we go.  My ex-husband still owns our old house in addition to his new house which is in the same neighborhood as the old one.  He hasn’t sold it yet because he doesn’t think he can get what he wants for it right now, so it’s sitting there vacant.  I’m sure the neighbors love that, but it’s been established that I’m a sucky neighbor, so I can’t talk.  Anyway, it’s over by two of Munchkin’s best friends.  One day, he was over there playing with one of the guys.  Later that day, Ex went over to check on some things at the house and found a grocery cart in the garage with a bunch of sodas and bags of chips and other assorted junkie foods in it.  He asked Munchkin if he knew anything about the cart.  Munch said no.  Ex said, “I’m going to ask one more time, and if you really don’t know anything, I need to call the police and have them look into this.”  So of course Munch fessed up that he and his friend had gone to the store and bought all the junk and were storing it in the garage for when they were playing in the area.  By the way, the garage has a keypad entry code thing on it, so you can get in without a key or opener as long as you know the code.  So Ex mentions that it’s theft to take a grocery cart off store property which he knows from the experience of one of his own escapades as a kid.  Munch took the cart back, but Ex didn’t make him go into the store and confess.  I would’ve made him do that!  Yep, so I have a wild onion barbequeing, grocery cart stealing teenager.  Lovely!

Weird dream number one:  In New Mexico, I had this dream that Frodo’s head was on a spinning wheel in a pond.  His body was floating nearby.  Sam came by and Frodo kept saying, “Sam, my body.”  So Sam chops Frodo’s head off the wheel and manages to reattach it to Frodo’s body.  Then Frodo was sitting there eating a sandwich with a rather messy stitch job on his neck.  His lips were a weird maroon color and looked kind of Joker-ish.  Needless to say, I’m a Tolkien nerd.  A sick Tolkien nerd.

Weird dream number two:  This one was last night.  I dreamed I was at D’s house, and I walked into the bathroom, you know, to pee.  The toilet was missing.  I said, “D, where’s the toilet?”  He came in and looked, and was all like, “Hunh.  I have no idea where it went,” like it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for the toilet to get up and walk off for a bit.  Then my phone rang and woke me up.  It was D on his way to his concealed handgun license class.  Yes, he is a gun-toting maniac.  But anyway, why would I dream about a missing toilet?  What the heck does that mean?  


I don’t have too much going on this week.  I should be doing laundry, but that is so not fun, so I’m avoiding it by blogging about how I have nothing to do.  Hunh.

So what is going on?  Well, let’s see.  Man-Friend came over last night.  It was lots of fun – we laughed a lot and had dinner (steak – I insisted as I’ve been craving red meat like you wouldn’t believe).  Then we came back here and watched “Survivorman”.  That dude is a riot.  Then we went to, ahem, bed.  We ended up sleeping til like eleven this morning, oops.  It was cold and rainy though, so it was really good sleeping weather.  Unfortunately, since we slept so late, I missed my scheduled session on the ice.  I was going to go to a later one, but I had a conference call this afternoon with my financial guy.

Or make that, I was supposed to be having a conference call.  He cancelled by email because he had a migraine.  I was sitting here waiting for the phone to ring at three and was checking my email when I saw it.  So now I’m like, well, what to do?  I need to go to Target (we have a condom emergency.  There’s only one left.  This is very very very bad), and Munchkin has a band concert tonight.  The issue is that my car is in the shop having maintenance done and should be ready any minute now.  I don’t want to be at Target when I get that phone call, so I’m waiting, lalalalala.  If nothing else, I can go after the concert.  Seriously, is my life not the most exciting thing ever???

J’s birthday is tomorrow, so I also need to pick up something for him.  I have no idea what to get him, so I’ll probably lame out and grab a gift card.  I suck!

Oh, I know what I could do that’s not laundry!  The power went out last night, so all my clocks need to be reset.  There’s some fun.  Good goobies, I need to get a job or something. 

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!

Radical Mama and Avitable have both done this Elf thingee, so I decided to do it too.  At 10:44 on a Friday night.  That’s sad.  I used my Wee Me face for it because I don’t have any pictures of just me.  Is that weird or normal?  Anyway, here I am.

I have the munchkin for the weekend.  He was going to play Oblivion, but Guitar Hero was already in the XBox.  So rather than getting up and switching the games, he’s playing guitar on a regular controller.  He won’t even get up to get the little fake plastic guitar.  I think I might be ashamed right now.

But really, is that what I should be ashamed of?  I’m thinking not.  I’m thinking this is what I should be ashamed of:  my darling child said the words “nut sack” and “wang” today.  Right in front of me.  Actually, and more to the point, to me.  He wasn’t calling me either of those things, rather he was referring to them because the dog was stepping on his junk.  I guess this is what happens to twelve-year-old boys who have mothers with mouths like mine.  But he could’ve just said, “Mom, the dog is on my junk!”  Jeez …

Hey!  He just got up to get the guitar!  It’s a proud moment.

Tomorrow I get to go Christmas shopping for this same kid with my ex-husband and his new wife.  That should be fucking awesome.  I can think of many things I’d rather do than this, but we’ve discovered it’s the best way for us not to duplicate gifts and for stuff to be even money-wise.  Ex is pretty good about adhering to my budget, as far as I know anyway.  He could be going out and spending a bunch more money after I’m gone.  You never know.  The point is, if he’s doing that, it’s not in my face and I don’t have that, “Oh, I can’t keep up with you” thing going on.

I’m totally bummed.  My sister’s having this party in Austin this weekend and I can’t go.  There’s the issue of boarding the dog which I would do, but he just got boarded for Thanksgiving, and I’d feel bad about doing it again so soon.  Also, it’s my weekend with the kid, and since I didn’t have him for Thanksgiving and I didn’t have him last weekend because of Ex’s wedding, I would like to spend some time with him.  The party is sooooo not going to be kid-appropriate.  The invitation was along the lines of “2007 sucked … let’s get drunk!”

It’s okay though.  She and her husband will be here the weekend after, so I’ll see them then.  We’ll make up for me missing out, but we’ll have to be somewhat well-behaved since I do have the damn Christmas skating show on that Sunday, so I need to not be barfing and stuff like last weekend.  Of course, I do plan on having a drink or two before the show.  I’m sorry, but there is no way in fuck I’m doing “The Island of Misfit Toys” in the fucking Rudolph show without a buzz.  The other adult in the show thought that we should sneak alcohol into the show.  Really, it’s not a bad idea!

My coach introduced me to drinking before skating.  Clarification:  he introduced me to drinking before performing.  When I played hockey, it was kind of expected that you’d have a beer before the game (gaggers – that sucks on your stomach).  This is a little different.  The issue here is more stage-fright than anything else.  So last summer, when we had to do an exhibition, D was like, “Make a drink before the show”.  I was all worried about it, but I did it anyway.  And yes, it totally helped.  If only I had known about it when I was in ballet.  Of course, I was only legal for four of my performance years (I retired from ballet at age 25 if you don’t want to do the math) so it would’ve been an extraordinarily bad idea, but hey, whatever works.  Anyway, so the other day he asked me if I was going to drink before this show, and I said “You know, yeah, I am.”  And J, who is in the show as well decided that was a pretty good idea and he thought he’d drink beforehand too.  We are setting very bad examples.  D has also suggested from time to time that I drink before my lessons.  I get a little spazzy for him sometimes.

All right, I’m off to bed.  I think I want to be well-rested for the group shopping.  No need to be a snarky little bitch because I’m tired or anything.

Yesterday I felt so crappy at the rink that JoAnne said, “Sometimes you just have to give in and admit you’re sick and take the day off.”  Fine, so here I am, at home, in my bathrobe, drinking shitty homemade coffee.  I want my Starbucks.

She’s right though.  I would’ve either accomplished nothing other than proving I can show up, and everyone already knows I can do that, or I would’ve hurt myself.  I kept getting dizzy yesterday, and let me tell you, skating plus dizzy equals oh fuck.  That’s not a good situation.

So what is making me sick?  I don’t know.  In general, I just feel cruddy.  My nose is pretty snotty, but that’s not unusual considering my year-round allergies.  My head has kind-of hurt for three days.  It’s not bad, it’s just there.  Mostly I just feel lethargic and foggy, more like I’m trying to fight something from getting to me than like I actually have something.

Okay, enough complaining.  I’ve figured out my dog’s tricks.  He rings the bell if he really has to go to the bathroom.  He cries at the door if he wants to go play in the mud.  Haha sucka, you’ve been found out!  No more will I respond to the plea for mud-play.

Here’s a question for the universe.  If there are yellow Labs and black Labs, why are there not brown Labs?  Why are they called Chocolate Labs instead?

This weekend, I have to go to a branch meeting for Longaberger consultants.  It’s at my aunt’s house, so I feel like I have to go.  They’ll have food though, and I think we’re all aware that if there’s food, I’m there.  This one guy that I worked with in college used to marvel at my eating skills.  He used to say that we should just line me up under a conveyor belt with my mouth wide open (and I do have a big mouth) and just let the food fall right in.  I think I said something like, “Sweeeeeet.”  Now I marvel at my former eating skills.  I used to eat a lot!  I can’t eat quite as much anymore.  Sad!  I especially can’t eat so much if I ever want to weigh next to nothing like real ice dancers.

On Sunday, Munchkin and I are going to brunch and then to the Trains at North Park.  I tried to find some good pictures to show, but there aren’t any that really do it justice.  It’s amazing.  They have all these miniature Lionel trains set up with the most elaborate scenery.  I just love it.  So we’ll do that and then go on walkabout through the mall.  My other favorite place at North Park is the Mermaid Cafe in Neiman Marcus.  It’s yum and surprisingly reasonably priced.  They don’t have brunch though, so we’ll probably go to Le Peep.  The only problem with Le Peep is that it’s on the opposite side of town from North Park.  Maybe we’ll go to La Madeleine instead.  It’s actually in the mall.  I’ll have to check with the Munchkin though.  He’s obsessed with all things French, but considering he won’t eat anything remotely adventurous, he may not want to try it.

Ooo, the dog just cried at the door.  I’m not falling for it!

So D is leaving town for Thanksgiving on Saturday, leaving me coachless for the two days available for skating next week.  I’ve got J lined up for Monday, but he has school on Tuesday.  I’m thinking of trying to get Brent for Tuesday.  He was on our softball team too, but came late in the season.  He had to retire from skating because he kept breaking his ankle.  Well, sort of.  That’s like half the story.  He thought he was going to go back, but while he was out with his broken ankle, his former partner went out and found a new partner, a Russian guy who will also remain unnamed.  She didn’t even talk to Brent about it.  Bitch.  That’s just fucking wrong.  Anyway, she ran off with the Russian, and the next thing you know, he’s dumping her.  Ah, karma.  They were together for so short of a time that you can’t even google them and get a site with them together.  You get a bunch with her and Brent though.  And this is why we call it “The Days of our Rink”.  Stupid, yes.  But true. 

My ex-husband is a douche.  I had forgotten that little tidbit because we had been getting along so well recently, but he’s up to all his old tricks again.  I can’t rehash it because I’ll get all pissed off again which will lead to more stomach issues and perhaps more zits in even more unmentionable places.  Though now I feel I need to explain.

Okay, so first of all, he’s getting remarried on December 1st.  This is fine – hopefully she will be able to fix a couple of these issues, but if not she’ll just be one more person on my list of people who can kiss my ass.  Whatever.  The problem here is the honeymoon.  I knew they were going on one.  Who doesn’t go on a honeymoon?  Oh right, I didn’t.  I guess that’s what I get for being seven and a half months preggers when I got married.  Anyway, with the wedding fast approaching, the other night I asked Ex if they were going on a honeymoon.  He said yes, they were leaving on the 2nd and coming back the 5th.  Okay, well, what about Munchkin and school and all that?  Oh, it turns out he thought that Munchkin would just stay here and I’d take him into school.  I’d have no problem with that if school started at, say, ten.  But it doesn’t.  It starts at 8:30.  It takes me 45 minutes to get from here to school when there’s no traffic.  At that hour though, I think it would take over an hour.  That’s fucking ridiculous.  So Munchkin is going to stay with his grandparents since it’ll take them five minutes to get to school.  I got pissed because he didn’t even ask me – I had to ask him, and he just assumed.  Don’t get me wrong – I would love to have the Munchkin all the time, but I don’t.  And I can’t ask Munch to alter his schedule to that degree.  He would be a miserable child.  He’s one of those kids that really has to have maximum sleep.  What I really want to know is when Ex was planning on informing me of his plans.  They affect my kid, and they affect me.  So that’s inconsideration number one.

Number two is that he keeps leaving me out of school stuff.  Like progress reports and activities and whatnot.  Somehow that information never makes it to my house.  Then, when Munchkin has another not-great progress report in English, Ex goes and makes a parent-teacher conference appointment without consulting me about it or finding out a good time for me to go.  So what happens is that he tells me at the very last second that there’s a meeting, and it happens to be at a day/time I can’t get to the school.  Thursday at 2 would’ve been fine.  Friday at 2 is not.  Really, how hard is it to say, “Hey, we need to meet with Munchkin’s English teacher.  Her conference time is 2.  What day is good for you?”  Duh!  It’s just so freaking inconsiderate, but it’s just like him.  He did this crap when I was married to him, and it’s like you’re blindfolded all the time and you have no idea where you are and you just keep bumping into shit and falling down.  It sucks so much ass.

Lastly, and this is the big one, he showed up here last night to pick Munchkin up, and he was dee-runk.  I could smell it coming off him from ten feet away.  I told him, and he said I was being ridiculous.  I was like, “Ex, I can smell it from here.  I know you’ve been drinking.”  Drinking is fine, but I’m not putting my kid in a car with someone who is clearly drunk.  He said he’d had two drinks.  That’s what people always say when they’re lying about how much they drank!  Always!!!  That was my mom’s favorite lie.  “I have two drinks a day”.  No, honey, you have two an hour.  All day long.  Anyway, I said I’d prefer to drive Munchkin back to his house myself.  Ex said, “Why don’t you just call the cops and have them arrest me?”  Okay, getting a little dramatic, are we?  He’s like that though – you’re either okay with everything he does and everything is fine, or he’s a big loser and you hate him and you want him in jail.  There’s a middle of the road here, and for me it’s this: You go ahead and run your ass into a ditch, but I’m not putting my kid in a car with you.

So he kept yelling at me in my kitchen about how I was trying to run his and New-Wife’s life regarding their honeymoon and how I was overly-sensitive about drinking because of my mom (guilty) and how that ruined our marriage and how I was just trying to start a fight, blah blah blah.  In myhouse he was yelling at me!  That’s not okay.  Meanwhile, I’m dumb enough to point out a few other issues like that Munchkin needs new shoes, that he wore dress socks with his falling apart sneakers to school because Ex hadn’t done any laundry in so long, how Munchkin needs a haircut, and how I found out Munchkin hasn’t been eating breakfast and it is the most important meal of the day, etc.  Really not the time or place.  Ex is supposed to take care of all the clothing and that kind of stuff since he’s primary custodian and he makes like ten times as much money as I do.  Sometimes I’ll do it and he’ll pay me back, but he doesn’t always pay me back, so sometimes I have to remind him of these simple care-and-feeding-of-your-child rules.  Jeez, I’m not asking for much.  The dude is freaking loaded.  I mean, he just bought a Mercedes GL 550 which is a $77,000 SUV, so I think he can afford to buy his kid a couple of pairs of sneakers.  It’s just not a priority for him.  I think that’s fucking retarded. 

In the end, all I’m asking for is that some pretty simple needs are met, and right now, I don’t think they are.  Hopefully New Wife will make sure the kids (she has one) eat breakfast before school, and that they look nice with decent shoes and haircuts and clean clothes.  Really, is that too much to ask?  I’ve thought about fighting the custody issue, and it’s the same problem as originally.  I don’t have the firepower that Ex has.  He can bury me in lawyering – all they have to do is drag it out, and I run out of money way before he does.  He doesn’t mind pointing that out either – “Go ahead and fight.  I’ll bankrupt you in a month”.  Fucker!  Power-tripping fool.  Gak I hate his sorry ass!  I am so freaking happy I’m not married to him anymore.

I was so upset last night and this morning that I had the grossest stomach problems, and I broke out on my chest.  Awesome, boob zits.  That’s nice.  They’re not really on my boobs, but close enough that the only way anyone is going to see them is if they take my shirt off.  That’s not happening anytime soon, so I guess I should be happy I broke out on my chest rather than my face!

I’m going to lose months of my life to this game.  I have accomplished so little this week because of it.  I, in fact, took Tuesday off from skating to work on “One”.  Oh the shame.  Well, if Guitar Hero is the cross I must bear, then bear it I will.  The munchkin and I have fun playing together – that career co-op is the best thing ever!

K, gotta go practice my Fast Solos now!

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