A fallen squirrel.

[Bambooki]

Theology for today.

I'm monstrously clogged and congested. I've been declared a Federal Disaster Area by the governor of West Virginia. They put a quarantine sign on my door.

I think the stress of the knee and Pop's death and the general resulting depression weakened my immune system enough for a bug to sneak by my body's defenses. My father, who has been sick less than five times in my life, is in bad shape. He's got bronchitis and an eye infection. Mom says he's been quiet lately. I think his system was weak, too. He's dealing with his father's death well, but I'm it's agonizing in a way that I'm not able to understand yet.

Death is such a strange thing. It's such a universal equalizer. It's such an enigmatic concept. It's a common thread among all peoples.

I don't think I'm afraid of death. I've spent a long time wondering and pondering about my views on death. I don't necessarily agree that if someone has not accepted Jesus Christ on the day they die that they won't go to Heaven. I don't think a being that created us and is so wonderful and intelligent would let us suffer that way. I think good people move on to a better world. I think those who are lacking in God's eyes are sent back for another try. I like Hindiusm, and the concept of rebirth, the cycle of Samsara. I like to think that we're given endless tries until we finally get it right, and that our next life is a reflection of how we lived this one. I also don't believe in Hell or an ultimate evil. Granted, the concept of the devil terrifies me, which is why I'll never, ever see The Exorcist. But on a spiritual level, it just doesn't make sense. If we're so loved by God, why would he doom us away to a place where no second chances are to be had? I don't necessarily like the Biblical framework laid out by the church.

My biology teacher in high school was a devout atheist. He had a sign up on his wall that said, "The Bible is a book. It's a good book. But it's not the only book." I like that quote, though I'm no atheist. I also liked the movie "Dogma"; specifically I liked the part where Chris Rock's character Rufus says that no religion has gotten it right yet. They're all in the right general area, but none have hit the nail on the divine head, so to speak. I think that's probably pretty accurate.

In college philosophy I learned of the Clockmaker or Watchmaker theory, which came about during the Age of Reason. The concept of Deism states that after the world's creation, God stepped back and let his perfect "watch" just run without interference. I believe that there is a beautiful afterlife, and that we're welcomed home by our family and loved ones who've already died before us, and I believe that the supreme being is waiting for us, too. But here on this earth, I think He stays out of it. I think we're a clock, ticking away on our own, and that's how I justify His letting bad things happen to good people. We've run amuck as a species and are trashing our world. He's standing back and watching, hoping we'll get it right, but He doesn't intervene.

Of course Newton and Locke came along and supposedly disproved the whole damn thing, but I'm not conerned with philosophers so much as the idea just appeals to me in a rudimentary form. It makes sense, and I've learned to cling to that which makes sense to me and comforts me.

End of philosophical chatter.

No. of deer on the way to work: 14
No. cough drops consumed: 3
Peanut butter sandwich I had for lunch: stale
Accomplishments: learned to export data from the database to a mail merge
Today's ugly factor: 6
Burning sensation: when I pee
Pills taken: Ortho Tri Cyclen, Prozac, Claritin-D, Macrobid, Pyridium
The canary's radio station today: 97.3, Wheel FM, Lite Rock
Episodes of 24 to catch up on before next week: 16
Reminder to self: buy stamps

 

[Bambooki]

God, what is it with you people and 3-ways? (Please pretend you can hear the completely non-judgemental, smiley tone in my voice.)

I don't get it. I don't care who it is - I'm not sharing The Fer with anybody. I don't think he'd share me, with a man or a woman. I think I can understand the allure of a threesome when none of the three individuals are committed or seriously involved. Random sex isn't always a bad thing. And as long as you're having fun and no one's getting hurt, I see nothing wrong with it. I suppose that being the jealous, possessive girl that I am, I can't imagine those feelings not entering the equation.

I also know, without a doubt, that a) I don't want to be with another man, and b) I have no trace of bixsexuality within me whatsoever. Don't get me wrong - I think the naked female form is one of the most beautiful things in nature. Naked women are beautiful. As long as they're not doing something vulgar or dirty, I'm happy to check out female nudity. It's art. But so help me, I'm just not attracted to them.

I've realized: I'm generic. I'm not interesting. I'm about as typical an American as you can get. I'm a WASP, the child of generations of WASPs who've lived in this small suburban town, I got a good education, I have a dog and a cat and an SUV. I go to church and I fish and I have dinner with my parents on weekends. I date one man exclusively (another WASP) and am heterosexual without question. I don't drink and I don't smoke and I listen to classical music while I'm at work. I have houseplants and goldfish. I have porch furniture. I eat meat. I have a bedspread from Walmart.

What is intruiging about me? Nada! I'm suddenly disappointed...maybe I should have a threesome.

Then again, maybe the phrase "typical American" isn't applicable to any of us. Maybe there is no such thing. Maybe I'm not typical at all. Just boring.

In a completely unrelated note, I think I'm going to throw up. I think I'm calling someone to pick me up. I can't drive myself home on windy roads feeling like this. Ugh. Maybe I took the wrong combination of pills and decongestants this morning. Yuck. I'm going to go sit by the toilet for a while.

 

[Bambooki]

I tire of You
and Your crappy attitude
spilt out on my desk
when I get here.
Your bad temper, and poor choices

are why You deserve Your unloving life.
I’m not sorry to see
that things fall apart.
I’m not sorry
I’m not Your wife.

You make me slick.
I am better than You
and if I were God I’d have
washed my hands after creating
You and wish I didn’t have
my conscience.

Your words peel an acid
taste up from my throat every morning

and I think
the time may
come when
things you thought
you were, are
only what you want
us to read.

 

[Bambooki]

I lay in the same spot in my bed from 9:30pm Monday night until 11:30am Tuesday morning. I am sick. Dog sick. The cold, despite the work of antibiotics, has migrated south to my throat, and I lay like a pile of useless goo yesterday. I watched the History Channel nonstop, and learned all about Pompeii and the Colliseum and the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Did you know that ancient Romans hung phallus wind chimes from their ceilings? Lots of little penises, tinkling in the breeze. It was a sign of good luck and fertility.

Then I watched "That's My Baby" on animal planet. A sea otter named Homer was pregnant with her third pup, having lost the first two. And I got all involved in Homer's pregnancy, and then her third pup was stillborn, too. I was so upset. She just swam around her pool holding the dead pup. What the hell kind of show is that? I don't want to see the unhappy endings. I cried. Fortunately the second episode was about the successful birth of a baby elephant at the Pittsburgh Zoo which I saw in person a few months ago.

Anyway, I'm at work today but I feel atrocious. This weekend I have to be well because The Fer is taking his certification dive four hours south, in Mount Storm, WV, and I'm going along for fun, and to have a weekend in the mountains. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, thankfully, which is rare for November in West Virginia. Fortunately this lake is heated by a power plant, which makes it a popular winter certification dive locale.

I haven't had a lot to say lately, which is why I haven't been updating as frequently. Not much has happened, save for an incident Saturday night. My father's dog is a lab/shepherd mix, and is very sweet, but he's taken to killing anything that enters his yard. The shepherd in him makes him very territorial. So Saturday night a cat came into the yard, and the dog got him and started mauling the hell out of him. So my brother ran down to break up the fight and tried to get the dog off the cat. Then my dad came running down and kicked the dog off the cat, and the dog flew up in the air and my father did too. The cat was on the ground panting and bleeding and not moving, so Dad and The Boy got him into the car and were driving down the driveway when our new neighbor appeared and stood in front of the car. My dad rolled down the window and the guy got up in my father's face and said, "I don't care what happened to the cat, but if I ever see you hurt your dog again I'm going to kick your ass." So my dad doesn't take well to anyone up in his face and got out of the car and told this man that what happened to his dog on his own property was my dad's business and not the business of this neighbor. And he threatened my dad again, and then The Boy jumped out of the car and said, "If you lay a hand on my father I'm going to kick your ass, mother fucker." So the neighbor threatened The Boy, too. Meanwhile, the cat was bleeding all over the car, so Dad and The Boy jumped back in the car to get it up to the vet. Meanwhile, the neighbor told my mother to expect a visit from the police and the ASPCA. We never got one, and the cat is in traction up at the vet. Actually, I believe he's scheduled to come home today. The cat is a 10-year-old, un-neutered stray, and we have no idea what to do with him. I simply cannot take another animal, especially one that has been hunting in the wild for his whole life. My bun and the canary would be eaten. And Mom can't take him because the dog would hurt him. In addition, the vet said that even if they neuter him, he's almost guaranteed to spray in the house. So how do you find a home for a cat that sprays? I suggested he be a barn cat, and that my mother find a home for him at one of the local stables where he can still do ferrel-cat things but have a warm place to sleep. A last resort is a no-kill shelter, but it breaks my heart to have to take any animal to a shelter. He'll be a hard animal to find a home for. Please PM me if you have any suggestions.

On top of everything else, I have a urinary tract infection. I hate them. I'm very prone to them. I have medicine from my doctor on-hand. I just can't shake this one. It makes for long nights.

 

[Bambooki]

Ode to the Boy Wearing the Penis Costume in the Student Union at Lunch Today

Mr. Penis Boy
with your flesh-colored head
and long shaft body
what would your mother say
what would your father say
shake their heads or clap
you on the back in fervent
reverence, long live our
son the scholar.

Will you grow out of it
this gruesome phase
of juvenile manhood
into something
more juvenile
more manly
just the same
as your counterparts
our boyfriends, husbands
exes and forget-me's chucked
in the back of my closet so
I don't forget but
don't have to see;

Will you wear your penis head
costume when nobody laughs
Will you care in five years
that you were judged today
as you sat on that
old blue couch outside
of Subway and hid behind
faceless pink felt
sewn up by somebody's
mom, because it's Halloween;

I turned my head
you accomplished that
I cracked a smile
but wouldn't think you more
than a kid in a penis costume
or a shell of someone
who might have been
worth knowing
but not for me.

 

[Bambooki]

My gourami died.

 

[Bambooki]

Yes, Burns, this was Lucky. May he rest in peace. I'm always bummed when one of my fish crew dies. Actually, he was one of three gouramis we originally acquired. Unfortunately, we put them in a tank with two sharks (not shark sharks, tropical fish sharks) and one of the two sharks became violent. I found the other two gouramis (Dusty and Ned), along with my beloved Beta, Luigi, mangled by one of the sharks (who was actually a catfish but was so named because of the dorsal fin). Actually, all I found of Luigi was his face, resting in the gravel. I sequestered the catfish/shark and it later died of unknown causes. Little jerk deserved it. It ate a total of five other fish, including the rainbow shark, Cornelius, The Fer's baby. Anyway, Lucky was the survior and was moved to the clown loach/gold barb tank, where he lived happily until Tuesday, when he succumbed to what I believe was swim bladder disease. We're still tropical fish novices, so we're learning as we go. The other tank has become a peace tank, with no aggressive inhabitants. Guppies, danios, longnose loaches, neons, glow-lites, skirt tetras...no sharks.

I really dig fish. They're so much fun and it's amazing how they suddenly develop personalities when you starting spending time watching them. My painted skirt tetras are very territorial and chase off any fish that comes in each of their respective areas. Each of the three has claimed a plant and guards it with their lives. Meanwhile, I have 9 female guppies and one male. Guppies are the rabbits of the fish world. Prolific breeders. That male guppy is having the time of his life. I think he's actually overwhelmed. He swims from female to female, fanning his orange tail and showing off, but then another female swims by and he goes after her. He's on overload. I expect him to die of exhaustion. These guppies are the product of four original guppies I had last spring. One by one, the gups began to vanish. Literally, they disappeared from the tank. No fish on the floor, no fish eaten by the cat, no fish anywhere. Just gone. The last fish, a female, I found on the floor of the tank, her abdomen burst open. There were ten tiny gups who'd been born, and with no adults around to eat them, survived to adulthood. I'm wondering now if guppies who are brother and sister will actually reproduce. The other fish would eat the fry as soon as they were born, but it's an interesting little experiment within the confines of the tank.

Enough from the fish nerd.

Did anyone see the aurora last night? It was supposed to be peak activity, all the way to Florida and Southern California. It was a clear night, and The Fer and I went up on top of a hill away from the lights. There was a definite glow in the northern sky, but the red beam my father had seen earlier was gone and our celestial viewing was limited to that funky glow. A few summers ago at our lake house we saw it very clearly, though it was nothing like the photos from extreme northern latitudes. It was more of a glow which from time to time produced what looked like a slowly moving spotlight of different hues. Very very neat. Last night wasn't so eventful, but it was worth a try, anyway.

Still sick. I don't think these antibiotics are doing jack squat.

 

[Bambooki]

I've never had a cold regroup like this before. It went from sinuses to throat to chest and today it's back in my sinuses. I almost don't believe it, because I didn't think that could happen, especially on antibiotics. I don't think they're working. He's got me on Trimox, which sounds like some sort of tool for styling yak fur, to me. Perhaps my body or this strain of germ is resistant. Either way, I'm worse today than I've been in a while, stuffiness-wise. Good thing I'm not the one doing the diving.

Also good thing the temperature this weekend is going to be in the seventies. Even up in the mountains. This year, for some reason, the lake, which was 75 degrees when Dad and I had our cert dive, has dipped into the sixties. It's inhuman and I'm glad I'm not the one 45 feet down in the cold murky muck. Diving in the caribbean and the Galapagos spoiled me. Cold water dives don't interest me. Neither does diving in limited visibility. Can it be that I'm a scuba snob? Am I biased against bass and towards blue tangs? What's wrong with diving with bass, anyway? The Fer will love it, regardless. He's a bass fisherman at heart. And a catfisherman. I guess that makes me a catfisherwoman. I don't take them off the hook, though. Not without gloves. I bait my own hook, and I've even bitten the tails off live shrimp to put them on the hook. I don't care for the slimy catfish, though. (I've got to be a girl somehow, right?)

This weekend will be the first time that I've stayed in a hotel since July 6, my knee injury. It will also be the first time I've showered in a tub-shower. (Mine is a stall and I gravitate towards stall showers now.) Maybe I'll take a bath. Maybe I'll bring my dive booties along and wear them for traction in the bathroom. I know the odds are astronomical of it happening again, and I tend not to be superstitious, but.....

Yeah. Baths. That's the way to go. And booties.

Well, I'm off to the mountains.

 

[Bambooki]

Seventy-five degrees in November. You just can't beat that. Add in perfect blue skies and it's about as close to perfection as you're going to get. At least in my neck of the woods.

The Fer is now a certified scuba diver. Passed with flying colors, and even got to feed a few catfish down at 50 feet. I was shore boss, since I wasn't diving due to my continuing-despite-antibiotics sinus infection. Shore boss basically entails recording each divers weight (as in weight around their waist), starting and ending PSI (air pressure), and their time-in and time-out of the water. And that's not easy when every diver is in an identical black hood and a mask which obscures facial features. I was happy to participate though. I deemed myself "the shore nazi". The water, normally 75 degrees, was only 60 because one of the heaters on the power plant was broken. I wasn't sorry to be missing 60-degree water and 10 feet or less of visibility. But I had forgotten how much fun it is to hang around with a bunch of scuba jerks for a weekend. Perverted jokes were traded and German beer was imbibed. And the hotel had a stall shower! Knees are intact.

Of course The Fer and I went to see Blackwater Falls and Canaan Valley State Parks. My family's been taking me there my entire life. It's a happy place. They raised me to be a nature nut. I'm thankful that The Fer is one, too.

The Fer and I are planning our dive trip in the spring to Bonaire. How I'll ever be patient that long is beyond me. But if we save it for March or April, when the weather still sucks up here, we'll definitely appreciate the dose of Caribbean sunshine and hot weather. For now, we scrimp.

 

[Bambooki]

My mind came up with the following dream early this morning. It felt like the longest dream in the world but I’m sure it was only a matter of minutes, at the most. It’s so weird how long they seem and how short they are. Sometimes only seconds.

My parents and The Fer and I were in my folks’ Land Cruiser driving along a ridge top, driving in the country. Reminiscent of the drive The Fer and I took this weekend. Ahead of the car, the sky was turning black and menacing, and winds were picking up and lifting clouds into the things you see on The Weather Channel before a tornado hits. The sky behind us was light and clear, but my father continued to drive towards the storm. It began to get wild and dangerous, with hail and rain and limbs and debris flying everywhere around the car. As we reached the top of a hill, we saw that a funnel cloud had dropped down about a mile ahead of us and was coming for us. I screamed at my father to stop the car and turn it around, and my mom screamed the same thing. But he wouldn’t turn around. He would pass driveways and wide places in the road and wouldn’t stop the car; he just kept barreling towards that tornado. We screamed and screamed at him and then the winds got so loud that we couldn’t hear ourselves shriek. And then it hit us and the car was tossed around and we had the hell beaten out of us, and then the thing was gone. And my father said, “See, I knew we could get through it.”

We drove home along the ridge in silence, and I was boiling. And beaten up. And finally I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore and started screaming at him. “You dumb fuck! What’s the matter with you? We told you to turn around! Why didn’t you turn around? Why did you put us all in danger like that? You stupid mother fucker!” And on and on I went, screaming at my father. (To whom, in real life, I’ve never once raised my voice or given lip because he terrifies me.)

When we got home, I told him that I was moving back to Florida and that he was not to contact me. In the following few days I planned an elopement with The Fer, and my parents found me in my wedding dress leaving for the ceremony, and asked if they could please come see their daughter get married. And I told my father he wasn’t invited and that I didn’t want him in my life. And then it jumped to a few years in the future and I had two little kids, still babies or toddlers, and he wanted to see them so badly because he’d never seen his grandchildren and he called me and called me begging to see them. I told him that I would never let him see his grandbabies as long as he was alive and that he wasn’t part of my life and I didn’t know him. And every time he tried to contact me I reminded him what a stupid fuck he was for risking our lives by driving straight into a tornado.
-----------------------------------

What the hell is that? Clearly I’ve got some repressed anger towards my father pent up inside. And watching “Storm Stories” before bed—and episode about tornado chasers who get a little too close—added the weather element. But the part where I’m so vindictive towards my father upsets me, even though sitting here in my office I can still feel how enraged I was at him for not listening to us about the storm. It’s something he would do, too. Not actually drive into a tornado, but he doesn't listen to his family even when we know what we’re talking about. He wouldn’t listen to me if his life depended on it. Everything I say is subject to cross-examination and doubted because I am “just a kid”. I think the dream really speaks to how I feel about my credibility in my father's eyes. When will he take me seriously? How long to I have to live before he'll believe the things I tell him, or take my opinions for what they're worth?

Now I’m angry.

 

[Bambooki]

My poor mom has AOL instant messenger on her computer, put there by me when I still lived at home. (Shows you how old her machine is.) They finally got high speed internet, and somehow when she starts the computer AIM pops up because some idiot (probably me) set it to pop up on Windows start-up. So now my screen name is up all the time. And she's working on Quicken and doing the books for my dad's office, and who should IM her but Louis Vuitton. He keeps sending IMs, thinking that I'm on the receiving end. Now I told this jerk back in August to stop calling me. He was uncaring about my knee and I realized that being his friend isn't worth the abuse he gives me. I proved I was a big person by supporting him even though he's a measly cheating worm with no friends. He threw it back in my face by insulting me when I was at my lowest point. I washed my hands of him and he hasn't called or emailed in months. Now suddenly he's back. My mom has plans to get on AIM (if the poor woman can figure it out) and tell him that it's Bambooki's mom, and not Bambooki (thereby humiliating him nicely), but should I do it myself? Should I tell him to fuck off? Or should I not even grace his requests with a response? I think he deserves nothing. Not a bone. I want this chapter of my life closed for good. I think even bothering to speak to him again would open it and I don't need that. The Fer doesn't need that, either.

The Fer once said that if he ever met Louis Vuitton, he'd "staple his dick to a dock". I'm thinking he was serious, too.

 

[Bambooki]

This morning as I reached the crest of a hill between two houses, a little gray dog ran right in front of me. I left 10 feet of rubber on that road. He just looked at me with that blank doggy look on his face. I see him run across the road, in front of cars, at least two or three times a month. This morning my Pathfinder almost ended his life. I could kill his owners. How irresponsible can you be? This is the only road around, and it leads from the college to the town. It's highly traveled. And they let him out at 8am and 4pm when traffic is at its heaviest. How can they risk his life like that? Put your dog on a leash or a trolley! Keep him in the house! Build a fence! Get an Invisible Fence! Do something, for the love of God. Do I have to be the one to murder him? I have no patience for irresponsible pet owners.

In this country you should have to pass a test before you're allowed to adopt an animal. It's up to us to keep them safe, and these people are doing a shitty job of it. If I can get their name and number, they're getting a call from me. Or perhaps I'll just scoop him up myself one day and take him to someone who actually cares about his welfare. If you're too lazy or too poor to build your dog an adequate containment system, you don't deserve your dog. I also have no patience for people who get a dog and then just leave it outside chained up 24/7.

I'm getting all fired up about this. Sometimes I wish I weren't an animal lover. Then, seeing these kinds of situations wouldn't make my heart hurt so badly. I'm already saving money to send to local animal shelters for the holidays. They always have a tree at the mall with lots of dog pictures and you can sponsor a dog for $25. Last year I sponsored four.

Doesn't it say something about me that I sponsor homeless animals before I sponsor children? Does that make me a bad person? Why do I feel worse for abused animals? What the hell is wrong with me?
---------------------------
EDITed to add that The Fer is convinced that he's got Decompression Sickness because he ascended a little too quickly from his last dive, at only 30 feet or so. A number of fellow divers have reassured him that he's not got the bends, but he's been reading about the symptoms online and is developing psycho-somatic symptoms. His left ring finger hurts so he's convinced he's got it.....oy. And I thought I was paranoid...

 

[Bambooki]

African Violet blossoms are starting to wilt. Wonder if I'm killing them...

Car at dealership. Missing stereo button will cost $300 to fix. $2100 for a new stereo. The original dealership in Pittsburgh said that they'd pay for a new button, but I'm not shelling out $300 of my own cash right before the holidays in hopes that they a) send me a check right after I send them the bill, and b) even pay that much for a stupid button. It's the "back" button, which takes you to the previous CD track. I think I can live without it. Also have to shell out $40 to fix my rear wiper, and $100 to have a new key made and all three reprogrammed. They used my spare in my remote starter. I can't be without a spare key. That's just foolish.

It's raining. It's 43 degrees. Winter in West Virginia. Blech.

Saw the doctor yesterday. New pills: Cipro. For both the lingering cold and the raging urinary tract infection. Thinks I should see a urologist. Having too many of these. Concerned.

Physical therapy is getting downright abusive. I'm in wicked shape, but it hurts. They're concerned about the lack of knee progress. I am, too.

Saw video of coworker's baby being delivered via c-section. Yikes. Wonder if his wife knows he brought that to work....

 

[Bambooki]

Fer just called dealership. Apparently when a man is on the phone they're a lot more willing to go out of their way to find a replacement button, rather than sending out the whole stereo and sending me the bill.

I hate that. I don't want their charity button given because my man made a phone call. It's like having your parents get you out of detention.

Shutup and be grateful for the button, I know, I know.

 

[Bambooki]

I spent $40 at Pet Supplies Plus buying wonderful surprises for Dobergirl. I bought her a new $30 bag of Iams Large Breed and an extra-large bag of beef rawhides (sterilized or pasteurized or bacteria-free before anyone worries). When I got home to my sweet little baby, I found her sitting on the kitchen floor.

Amidst a giant pile of garbage.

My sweet little baby voiced her discontent at being left alone for an evening by tearing open a garbage bag and throwing the contents around the kitchen.

The contents included approximately 1,000 styrofoam peanuts.

Good fucking night.

 

[Bambooki]

I got a mild ass-chewing this morning from BossMan at 10 minutes after eight. Apparently yesterday I went over his head and straight to BossLady#1 about something, and neither was happy that I did that. I was trying to be helpful and do some preliminary work on a request from the president. Apparently I screwed up. I heard all about it this morning. It makes me so angry, because I really did think I was being helpful. This job is so mediocre. SO mediocre.

Last night my dad and I bickered about my credit. Another example of how he doesn't listen to me. I have a bill from Alltell which is in dispute. (In Mexico someone stole my phone and racked up huge charges. Alltell didn't turn off the phone when I asked them to, so I shouldn't be responsible for those charges.) My dad has been fighting the company for two years, and they've been very unprofessional. Now they've finally sent the bill to a collection agency. I want to just pay the stupid thing so they don't scar my credit. He told me that nobody is going to deny me credit just because of an unpaid $200 cell phone bill. I disagreed, and reminded him that my ex had to buy me my second cell phone and that my dad had to co-sign my car loan. Dad said that was because I had no employment history. He just brushed the whole thing off. Yet I highly doubt he'd let one tiny speck of dust appear on his credit report. He'd never allow for any such thing to happen. Yet he's perfectly willing to let it happen to me.

I didn't pursue it last night because they were taking us out to Red Lobster, but this morning I've gotten all fired up about it. He doesn't treat me like an adult. Maybe I haven't been one for very long but I still am. I'd kill for just a little bit of credibility in his eyes. On something other than shopping. (His favorite rib.)

It's Friday, so I should chill out. BossMan has departed for the day. I'm angry and hurt and irritated, with a lot of people. I intend to sit here and mope and wish I were someone and someplace else for a day.

PS: No button was found. At least they tried.
Also, wearing a purple angora rabbit-hair sweater today and I'm an itchy mess. So to console myself I've taken 7 rolls of Smartees out of the office candy jar.

 

[Bambooki]

I am officially requesting a divine sex change. God, make me a man. Just do it. Switch me over. The Fer will learn to live with it. My mom can handle it. I don't want to be a woman anymore. Make this urninary tract infection go away!

I'm in the midst of a bad one right now. The UTI that wouldn't die. I haven't done anything even remotely sexual to bring it on this time, and yet it persists. The Cipro I was prescribed is commonly known to kill almost every type of urinary bacteria. Maybe he didn't give me enough. The other alternative is Bactrim, which I'm allergic to. So I went down there after making a bank run for the office this morning and peed in a cup. The first thing I noticed upon close inspection was the blood and pus. (Sorry. I know that was revolting.) The doctor wants to send this specimen off to a lab, and getting the results back will take two days. In the meantime, he prescribed me Pyridium, which is an analgesic, but not a cure. He also told me it's time to see a urologist. The problem is that there are only two in this town and it takes months to get in to see either one. (This town has been one of the first in the entire country whose doctors have responded to the malpractice insurance crisis by walking out. We currently have no neurologist and no cardiologist here. So if you have a stroke or heart attack, you're dead by the time you're life-flighted to Pittsburgh or Morgantown.)

I got a giant bottle of Dasani (shameless plug) and am nursing it. There's nothing else to be done.

Why is the female system so flawed? How did people live back before the days of antibiotics? I'm in hell. I'd rather have the stomach flu than this. It just won't go away. How am I supposed to have a normal life (let alone a normal sex life) if I get a UTI every time I turn around? It's enough to make me consider celibacy.

 

[Bambooki]

It’s snowing! Woohoo!

Okay, so this sucks. Last night was 60-some degrees and balmy. Unusual for November around here. Well, that shit came to an end around midnight. Gusts up to 60mph, lightning, driving rain…it was nuts. Or so I was told by The Ferball. I never make it past 10:30pm. My body is literally unable to function after that time. It turns off. I don’t try to fight it any longer.

This morning was bitter. And as I got to the top of the first hill on the way to work, there it was. Snow. In all its glory. And now as I look out the window, it’s atrocious. The stuff is literally blowing sideways. The porch door blew open a minute ago. This is hell.

And yet I love it. Despite my gripes and groans and desire to live back in Florida, I can’t help but love the sight of it blowing around. A few moments ago I put on my new wool coat (black, ankle length, button-down, faux black fur around the cuffs and collar; I look really really cute in it) and went over to get lunch. As I walked back students were bustling around and the sidewalks were for the most part deserted. I wasn’t cold, expect for my ears and face, and I smiled and almost laughed. My father raised me to be a snow junkie. I love the stuff. I think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. (Along with fifty other things in nature.) I love to be out in it. I love to jump in it and ski through it and go out in the absolute quiet of a heavy snowfall, when the noises of the city are muffled, and stand with my face to the sky and feel it land on my cheeks and eyelashes. I love the stillness. The first heavy nighttime snowfall is one of my most favorite things about being alive. Every year on that first snowy night my dad and I bundle up and go for a walk through the neighborhood and listen to the utter silence.

It’s one of my happy places.

Of course, this year I'll probably slip and fall and dislocate something else.

 

[Bambooki]

Okay, so I'm absolutely sick for loving snow. Clearly there's something wrong with me. I don't love winter. The snow is what I like. The cold sucks and the rain and gray skies and brown hills suck. I just like the fluffy white stuff.

So. I got an email from Roja Grande, my college roommate. (Big girl, red hair, you get the idea.) She was the one who always shoved her boyfriend in my face when I was depressed, and who got married and is living "the perfect life." She emailed to tell me that my ferret died. I got the ferret as a sophomore, and then The Ex made me give her to Roja Grande after I graduated because he didn't like her. I hate him for doing that. Anyway, that was a bummer, but then in the email she said, "So are you still dating The Fer? Someone new? Any rings yet?"

Maybe I'm being oversensitive, but isn't that obnoxious? All that girl cares about in life is getting married and having babies! God forbid I have a career and a life outside of the world of domesticity. Just because her one and only goal was to be a wife and mother doesn't mean mine is. And it irks me that this is the first question that pops out of her mouth. So fucking what if I have a ring or am married or am a single woman with a career, living my life for me. (Not that I am....I wish I had a career. This job blows but I'm on a different tangent right now so nevermind!) She's just so 1950's and in-my-face about it and I hate that. I emailed her and told her there were wedding plans tentatively in the works and she said, "Isn't love amazing when you finally find the right person?" Ugh! Gag! Shut up about it. There are bigger things in life than marriage, already!

Why do we all have to be Little Susy Housewife? Why can't we get respect for being us and not someone's wife? This is some kind of weird, reverse-feminism on her part and I want to slap her. She asked for my number and I couldn't very well not give it to her, so now we'll have to rehash the whole damn thing on the phone.

And then she threw in the part about how children are their next step but they're not sure when, yet.

Throw some more sand in my face, why dontcha? I'm not reproducing yet? Oh my God! Call a psychiatrist! There's something wrong with Bambooki! She's not married and she's not a mother by age 24! Obviously, there's something amiss here.

I don't get it. I thought there was a progressive movement towards feminism that idealized the woman who lead her life for herself and focused on her life and job and friends, on not on the age-old tradition of leaving your father's house for your husband's. I may have plans for marriage in the works but that doesn't mean that they're what I live and breathe and die for each day. I like my life the way it is and when I'm ready to change it, I will.

I know, you're thinking, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Well, bite me.

 

[Bambooki]

Forgot to mention that I had another weird dream about my dad last night. I dreamt that I came to my parents' house and went up to my old room and there were birds everywhere. In cages. Parrots, actually. He told me he'd gotten some new pets. I went into my closet and found fourteen other cages stacked up on top of each other, and in each cage was a rare and endangered species of parrot. I came to find out after questioning him that my father was involved in the illegal parrot trade and was smuggling birds into the country with the help of some greasy Cubans. We got into a giant fight about it. That's the third dream in one week in which I've gotten into a fight with my father about his supposed criminal activity. I wonder what that means, because my dad is the epitome of honesty. If he found twenty bucks on the street he'd go all over town asking people if it belonged to them. I can't for the life of me figure out what my psyche is trying to tell me about my relationship with my father.