My mom...

OK, when I started blogging this was meant to be a place where I could vent. A place that I could joke around and allow my silliness to run free. With that said, let me fill you in on a recent change in my life.

My mom is no longer physically here. She was only 54 years old and I feel she was cheated out of many great years. I feel cheated. But maybe more years wouldn't have been good for her. Enough analyzing. Bottom line, it hurts. Sometimes alot.

Most of the time I'm ok. Like the first week after she'd died. Oh I was solid as a rock on the outside but internally, I was a wreck. I lost alot of weight. I think I'm smaller than I've been. I'm still recovering. I'm still wearing a size 0 in everything. Pretty soon I'll be wearing a size 18-24 months..and buttoning my shirts at the crotch.

How can I find humor in all this? Fuckin easy. Let me tell you about the funeral...

Life is funny. Just sit back and watch people sometimes. My family is hilarious. When we all walked into the church, I realized that all of the adult women were wearing fur coats. Which was sort of odd because it was mid-April....

Most of us are wearing shades. Me, my sisters, and our brother wore all white. My grandmother led the way down the aisle to the casket in her big sunday hat and full length fur looking like Queen Bee. She even had a little pimp walk with two of my uncles on each side of her holding her up. I wish I'd gotten a picture.

Why do people take pictures at funerals? And I absolutely despise when people take pictures of the dead person in the casket. What's the point? That's not a Kodak moment! Imagine buying a new picture frame and the stock photo behind the glass is a dead lady lying in a casket. And wow, what a surprise when you open up that new wallet and there's a CSI homicide photo inside...

People do ridiculous things. Like when I caught the holy ghost at the funeral and my pants starting slipping off. Mind you I had on white pants so naturally, I was wearing a thong...

Hi, Mom!

Life after Death

Baby! Bay-bay!

Another thing about death and dying...People grieve in different ways. But there's a something about the way my family has always handled death that I find kinda funny.

Like, why do we all have to get together for a party after the funeral? What are we celebrating here?! Let's bring out the casket photos and pass 'em around!! Default! Default! (a little Myspace humor folks)

I'm one sick individual.

Speaking of Myspace, why is it that when someone dies we put R.I.P. Soandso above our picture? Who on your friends list doesn't know that you just experienced a loss? If someone finds out about your mom passing by viewing your Myspace page, f#$# them up. They deserve to be beaten senseless. Ignorant pricks.

But back to you (or was I talking about myself?) No. Back to you. Because I've learned my lesson - maybe you haven't. Stop posting RIP. It's too somber. And how can you have R.I.P Dad on your page with Buy U A Drink playing in the background? Ignorant pricks...

Bathroom Break

Ever notice how people in public restrooms get real shy about looking in the mirror when someone else is around. You walk into the bathroom and you can tell that they were just staring in the mirror.

But now that you've walked in they all of sudden want to wash their hands. And here's how you really know they're guilty. You go into the stall and they hang around until your toilet flushes.

Now they want to leave.

As soon as they leave you find yourself looking in the mirror...until someone else walks in.

It's one big cycle.

Another thing that urks me is when someone looks at me funny when I use the handicapped stall. I'm sorry but I like the extra room it provides. And I don't know a single employee who's in a wheelchair!!

Maybe they're trying to prepare themselves in case someone ends up losing use of their legs or gets paralyzed in some freak accident. How pessimistic...


What I don't understand is why do they have a handicap accessible bathroom but there aren't any ramps outside of the building? If they can't get in how the hell are they gonna get to the bathroom?

Small Talk

During a conversation, have you ever noticed the other person "mouthing" the words as you speak to them?

That is the weirdest thing.

And I used to do it. Alot. To prevent this from happening, I've formed a habit of keeping my mouth shut when someone speaks to me.

I notice a lot of people on t.v. doing it during interviews. It looks embarrassing.

When people do that to me I cannot finish what I'm saying. I have to take a brief moment to collect myself because it makes you want to laugh. I almost want to say, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking ?"

But, I have really become accustomed to keeping my mouth closed when someone is talking to me. People constantly have to remind me to smile. I guess I look as if I'm in a bad mood or something.

Whatever.

I used to talk alot when I was a kid though. Whenever my sisters had company I would take it upon myself to entertain them. I remember reading books to them and thinking certain parts were hilarious but I guess teenagers weren't really into Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Once I got so talkative I taught one of the guests how to break into our house. The next day the door was all boarded up. Was it something I said?

Never frown, you never know who's falling in love with your smile...

Almost a year later and looks who's back on the blog! Yeah, it's been damn near a year since my last post but let's just pretend as though that pause never happened, ok?

It's not as if your life has stopped. Mine sure hasn't. There's so much to tell!!!

I am happy right now. Happy to be writing again. Happy that I am able to get online more often and HAPPY to know for damn sure that I control every aspect of my life and that the world is truly mine.

Alright. I know this sounds corny but I have to say it. I know I'm intelligent enough (Oooh it would be so embarrasing to misspell the word intelligent...and even more embarassing to misspell embarassing...or mispell misspell.)

But I digress...

As I was saying, I know I'm intelligent enough to do whatever it is I want to do in life. Yes, I'm one of those twenty-somethings that still don't know what that is....

I'll figure it out.

But, before I go let me share a quick story about what happened to me today at work.

My job is sponsoring a weight watchers program and lots of people were in attendance today. And they hold this event where? The cafeteria of course! Why are they torturing these people? Half of them are facing the vending machine which is filled with cookies, chips, candy, etc. And they have the nerve to say things like, "Pickles have zero points. Eat as much of them as you'd like...." Meanwhile the fat lady with battleship grey sweatpants is gazing at the vending machine like it's a f@#$ing oasis.

But, I did something that was borderline cruel. I walk into the middle of this weight watchers session and interupt to use the machine. I stand there with my dollar, taking my precious time while I figure out what would best satiate my appetite for destruction.

I make my choice. Oh wait, I don't really want the Sunchips, I'd rather have a KitKat...or a BabeRuth. I can feel them watching me. I start to get a little nervous actually. So in my moment of indecision I hastily choose the Grandma chocolate chip cookies.

Oh shit.

As the pack of cookies drop to the floor of the machine with a thud! I realize there is complete silence. I should have picked the Sunchips.

But, it was too late. And to make matters worse, I can't eat these cookies without warming them up in the microwave first.

The walk to the microwave seemed to take forever. I could still feel them watching me. Only now, I could also sense a tsk tsk here and there, a few people shaking their heads in disgust, and worse of all, sighs of longing. It was a sad journey to that microwave.

When I finally reached my destination, I hurriedly tried to open the pack of cookies. I've never had this much trouble trying to open a snack! The crumpling of the wrapper sounded like thunder in that room! In a desperate attempt to bring this all to an end, I throw the half-opened pack into the microwave and push 20 seconds.

In less than 5 seconds, the bag starts to burn and melt. JUSTICE! I could almost hear a silent cry of vindication spread throughout the room.

But, it's not over til' the fat lady grabs my half baked bag of cookies and runs for the door.

I refused to let them win. I would not let them see me walk out in defeat. I quickly snatched the microwave door open and rushed my cookies to safety.

I pretended as if nothing had just happened. I simply picked up my cookies, wrapped them in a napkin, and got a cup for my milk.

My cookies were not as warm as I would have liked but who the hell cares. I won.