Once upon a time, I was in a video store with my then boyfriend trying to pick out a movie to watch. I picked up John Carpenter's Vampires, and proceeded to tell the boy about the coolest scene in the movie, where a guy uses his hot-from-being-fired gun to cauterize a wound he received. Said boyfriend looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "You're not like other girls, Betty."
Name::Braindead Betty From::Indy, Indiana, United States
I know I told you about how Jay got me Guitar Hero II for our anniversary, (or, as Bean calls it, Bitar Hewo) but I didn't mention his established history as the world's best gift-giver. He's everything that (stereotypically) women wish men were when it comes to gift giving. He's thoughtful, extravagant, creative, blah, blah, blah. And ladies (or guys), if you're sitting there cussing me right now, stop. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be the worst gift giver in the family? It sucks, and every gift-giving holiday I stress out hardcore over what to get Jay. It's not that gifts are that important, especially when you're as poor as we are, but I like to show that I put some thought into it.
I think I may have finally acheived the pinnacle of gift-giving success this year for Father's Day. I bought Jay an introductory flying lesson. He opened the certificate, dropped his jaw and said, "You're shitting me!" I've never seen him react like that. I can't wait to see how he likes it when he actually goes. And I'm going to be such a big dork, taking his picture with the plane and all that. Hope he doesn't get embarassed!
I'm officially 6 month pregnant. We know we're having a girl. We cannot decide on a name to save our lives. Bean has a nice, traditional Welsh name. I was hoping to continue that tradition with my other children. (Well, not necassarily Welsh, but Irish/Scottish/Celtish or thereabouts). I personally have a nice Irish name myself. (Or Scandinavian, depending on who you ask.) I have reservations about going too ethnic with the name, however.
For example, one of my favorite name choices is Siobhan. Pronounced Shuhvahn. How many elementary school teachers do you think are going to get that one right on the first try? Also, Ula, which has the very pretty meaning of "sea jewel" will not escape unnoticed by the neighborhood bully.
The slightly unusual name does have it's upside as well. Last week, Jay and I got tickets to go to the Pacers vs. Mavs game. Dirk Nowitzki is not only an extraordinary ball player (and a bit of a cutie), he's also fun to announce. I had Jay threatening to stab me in the eye with a nacho if I kept giving a Dirk Nowitzki-only play-by-play. I don't know why he was complaining; I could've done it for Pacer's guard, Sarunas Jasikevicius, instead.
Jay finally got a job, but the first thing he has to do is go out of town for a week. He left this morning, and will be back Wednesday night. This will be the first time we've been apart more than 24 hours since we got together. I'm of a few different minds about this. Of course I'm going to miss him. Of course I'll miss the security of having a man in the house (though I do have two big dogs and a .12 gauge, so that's not so much of an issue), but I'm also terrified. I'm terrified that I'm going to love it.
I mean, think about it. The whole house, all to myself, for a whole week! Well, except for the rugrat, of course. No having to deal with dirty man socks laying wherever he decides to throw them, no toilet seat left up, no middle-of-the-night-right-when-I'm-in-the-middle-of-an-awesome-dream groping, no nagging, cooking exactly what I want for dinner...It sounds kind of heavenly, to tell you the truth.
I know it's good for a relationship for each person to have their own personal time, and Jay & I try to abide by that. We have our respective girls and boys nights out. I game every Monday, every Wednesday he has band practice, etc., etc. Our personal time has just never extended for this long, and hasn't included time in the house, really, before.
Anyone care to place any bets about how long it'll be until I get a whiny post about how I miss him so much up?
I'm back to feeling like a human at least, even if I'm not 100% better yet today. I hate being sick. Jay hates it when I'm sick, too. I like to be babied when I'm sick, while he's one of those "go out in the woods and die by yourself" kind of guys. We both treat each other the way we would like to be treated when we're sick, so it doesn't work out very well. At least he's good at taking care of the rest of the household when I'm sick, so I really shouldn't complain because he's not waiting on me hand and foot.
Like I said, I'm still not 100% back to normal, so I'd like to direct you all to Punk in Suburbia for a well-timed and well-written rant.
Recently, I bought one of those do-it-at-home yoga DVD's. I figure that I should start doing something to get in better shape. I'm getting to that age where my metabolism is starting to slow, I can't stay up as late, my hangovers start getting worse. Besides, I figure it's got to be cheaper to lose weight rather than buy all new clothes, which is what I'll have to do if my figure continues at its current pace.
Anyway, I popped the DVD in last night after Bean was in bed, thinking that this would be my best chance to have a little peace. I made it through the routine okay, and I could tell that once I've worked at it for a while, it really will help my flexibility. At the end of the routine, it has you lay on the floor, close your eyes, concentrate on your breathing, & close out the outside world. Pretend I'm asleep? I rock at this! So, I'm laying there, feeling my chest expand and collapse with my breathing, and I must have done too good a job. All of a sudden, I feel Jay kicking my foot. He asks me, very concerned, "Are you dead?"
I open my eyes and glare at him. He's not helping me close out the outside world at all. Apparently, he really was worried about me. He said I was "out here doing this new thing that I've never done before, just laying there not doing anything." I must say, I'm so touched that if I die in the living room, he'll be concerned enough to kick my foot and make sure I'm really dead. Overcome with grief, I'm sure.
Jay is my husband. He can be a total jerk, like when he told his little brother the way to get rid of a hard on was to punch it as hard as you can, but he can be the sweetest guy ever, like when he rushes to kiss a boo-boo on our little girl. He's in a punk rock band called Pipe Bomb. He's a total blue collar guy. He's worked in construction for years. There's nothing that he wouldn't do for his family. He's the only guy I've found that can consistently put up with my shit, so I think I'm gonna' keep him.
Bean is our daughter. I refer to her as Bean because she never walks when she can hop. She's like a little jumping bean. I could go on & on about her, but it'd just be the same things every moms say about their kids. Suffice it to say that she's reasonably cute, smart & funny, and we'll just move on.
Sicko is my best friend, simply because she's just as big of a dork as I am. We have a blast every time we get together. 9 times out of 10 we end up having conversations about penises. (Penii?) Regardless, "Dance like noone is watching" could easily be her life motto.
And then there's the band. Left to right it's Eeyore, Jughead, Trippy & Jay. Eeyore suffers from a lot of mental problems. Depression, anxiety disorder, etc. He's also a junkie, which I'm sure doesn't help the problem at all. He's an effing genius when it comes to the bass, though. I've never seen anyone as talented as him. Jughead is, simply put, an idiot. He can't multiply 2 and 100 in his head. Seriously. Trippy's just your average guy, wife, two kids, 9-5.
These are the names you will more than likely see crop up most often in the course of the blog. I'll add other people as the need arises.
