finally, it has become clear to me why in 3 weeks i am moving out of this place.
this weekend, a number of my friends from all over the country have graciously accepted my offer of packing in exchange for disgusting amounts of alcohol. and this is an actual piece of an email that i found myself sending:

"...when you turn off the interstate onto Hwy XXX, call tara, have her jump online and tell me youre that far. that way i can freak out... err, prepare. put pants on and such. at this point youre here. you'll hear screams coming from my place. that is ok. just some minor torturing. tuesday nite will consist of packing, and kids, and loud noises and frantic mommies and quiet swearing. maybe some loud swearing. mainly just swearing of all kinds. then we get up wednesday and more frantic. more crazy. less swearing. and rush the kids away and leave for michigan, at that point, you will prolly already regret knowing me, but alas i will start to calm down. then drinking. binge drinking if necessary. so bring a funnel and a rainsuit. there will be heavy drinking. you have been warned. drive safe. watch for ducks."

i almost feel like less of a person for using alcohol as a tool. almost.

and to sum up the past week, i do believe it was my sister who said it best:

"seriously - we're like the 'cant poop' sisters"

wow, looks like someone has been neglecting thier writings.
[points to self]

next stop, michigan. for many reasons.
-money money money. come buy my shit. really.
-tara, i miss you like hell.
-nick, your ass is mine.
-frank, been long enough. lets do this already!
-and the reason that everyone knows about, but no one wants to talk about. yes i will be looking at jobs, and schools and places to live. yes it might be a reality. yes, you must accept it.

this is a much anticipated [gasp] vacation for me. there will be some work involved yes, but mostly, i miss my girl. more than i could ever put into words. more than i could ever tell her really. we have that relationship where we scratch the surface and tell each other, especially with much liqour involved. but we dont really say it much, we just know. regardless of men, or money, or time or distance. i dont need to have any other reason for the validity of my move.
its my choice. and i choose her.

happy mudders day to me. (in both senses of the word)

and since this is a day to cherish and give praise to what wonderful women we are, it only seems right to also acknowledge what assholes men are. not every man. just every man ive ever had. upfront, i take full responsibility for having chosen these men. however if i would have known he was a selfish, heartless bastard before the wedding, it may have altered history a bit. and by altered, i mean, improved. ok, so lets review. constant adultry. CHECK. relentlessly demeaning. CHECK. financial disaster. CHECK. irresponsible. CHECK CHECK. in conclusion, TOTAL WASTE OF FUCKING TIME. and really darling exhusband of mine, its mothers day for god sakes. can you try and turn down the nasty just a little just.this.once. because morally and logically you are a fool. how dare you point your underage-girls-pussy-stank fingers at me. i take care of both of my kids, alone. and theres only one of me. and im willing to bet it takes the both of you 10 minutes to figure out which end of the baby the diaper goes on. now thats fucking teamwork. how much money i do or dont make is none of youre concern. my children eat, even if i cant. my children have clothes on their backs, even if not namebrand. and my children have a roof over their head, even if its not a palace like the one your whore has. i mean, if i took off all my clothes all day and gave head on the side, i could be rich too. but id rather be poor with dignity. thanks anyways fuckwad. no, youd rather let your very pregant wife work 2 jobs while you sit at home and give fuck lessons to a bunch of girls who cant make up their minds about which prom dress will look best on the floor next to your wifes dresser. oh wait, thats right, you had a great job. but since that meant youd have to pay the child support youve decided not to pay, you opted to no longer be employed there. grow some balls, stick up for yourself. they are your kids. im not asking anyone else to take care of them. its not their job. its ours. you included. when it gets tough, or they dont 'fit into your schedule', then do what every other parent does. you fucking improvise. make it work. period. you ran out of 'get out of jail free' cards a longass time ago. im tired of being the only involved parent. tired of having to sort through your mess and clean up after you. no more giving up and saying 'i quit'. 'i quit' means 'i wont cause im a pussy'. and if you wont, well then get the hell out of the way. quite frankly, having you around it like having an easy-bake oven. its cute, and its fun to use, but it just doesnt get the job done.

well ive spent the better part of the morning lecturing my stomach on the reasons to NOT throw up. not necessarily cause i feel i need to do so, but more because my obsessive compulsive side has taken over. i am unfortunately a creature of habit. and as fate would have it, i have this habit of spending mothers day with the flu. not just the cough-cough-my-throat-tickles flu. more along the lines of holy-shit-i-think-my-spleen-just-passed-through-my-lips type of flu. the motherload flu. how fucking appropriate. and me being the frantic worrier that i am, is just sure this year will bring the same good tidings. im not quite sure where this all came from either. i mean, i know my father is obsessive compulsive to a fault. and my sister got the short stick of this too. but they are a little more 'normal' about it i guess. locking the door a set number of times, washing their hands, and so on. and whatever you do, dont brush your teeth anywhere where they might KNOW youre doing so. in fact, just pretend you dont have any teeth at all. but somehow all the obscurities in my mentality are a bit more off. everything is about numbers. i wont do certain things unless the clock is on an interval of 5. i refuse to hang up my clothes in the closet because it will absolutely drive me crazy if they are not in order. by color, sleeve lenghth, material. i wont even be at home, and ill SENSE theres something out of order, and it will piss me off until i give up and leave the clothes in baskets. dvds are organized by type, then by color of the case. everything is about color, or number. let me clarify something quick. i am DEATHLY.AFRAID.OF.PUKING. no lie. i would rather go through a dozen labors and a massive head trauma then to throw up. and when i was 3, i puked. when i was 6, i puked. notice a pattern? i spent my entire eighth year of life begging the gods to not let me turn 9. 9, i did NOT puke. holy hell. it didnt come again til 16. puked. 21, puked. shit. now my calculations are off. it could come at any time! arghhhhhh! so now im left with a world that revolves around numbers, and patterns and habit. and there is no pattern, no sequence. fock. i have to hang on with a mighty grasp to the only things i am quite certain of... that i will never eat doritos again, that ive always hated math anyways and that mothers day is the devil.

i would be last person on earth to say that i have all the answers about relationships. because, clearly, i dont. but i am human, and lets face it, im me, so i do have my own opinions on everyone elses. and lately, a dear friend of mine has been the thought on everyones mind. so naturally, its my turn to state my _opinion_. first of all, i love her dearly. i dont tell her often enough, and i do even less im afraid that shows it. and everyone seems to have a problem with her boyfriend. and everyone, including myself, just wants her to be happy. of course we think shes not. how can she be. but that is ultimately up to her to decide. our own idealistic makings for happiness arent necessarily hers. because we couldnt be happy in those circumstances, doesnt mean she cant be. she should be entitled to that. if he is what makes her happy, truly happy, then my god, i could ask nothing else for her. but sadly, i think he falls short. yes, i think hes with her for the 'trophy' appeal. yes, i think hes arrogant. yes, i think he says things that he has NO business saying. yes, i think he knowingly trys to buy her love. yes, i think hes smarter than the average bear. but i dont think she is given enough credit. i think she knows it too. and here is why i dont say much regarding it. first, i think shes okay with it. i think shes ok with being well taken care of. i think she loves having someone that can provide her with a lifetime of gifts and belongings. i think that the things that money can buy is what keeps her there. shes not shallow. or greedy. but shes comfortable. and without him, i think shed feel lost. and i think shes terrified of feeling lost. now that brings me to the second thing. i worry that shes not ok with it, but doesnt think she can do any better. which is where we step in. cause if shes not ok, and just feels like this is her last attempt at a successful life, then its our job to show her things shes blind to. this girl is beautiful, and amazing, and genuine to the core. we think shes selling herself short by being with a man we know does not make her happy. but regardless, what we think of him, or their lives together, im not her. she has to do what is best for her. im not involved for me. i dont need to sway her to see things my way. i just want her to know, that above all, we love her enough to know how much more she really deserves.

somedays, i sit back and i look at my boys, and admire their innocense. life is so simple in the eyes of a child. all problems have an easy solution. to a 3 year old, there are no limitations. no boundries. they live in a world without the harsh cruelties of reality. that is, of course, until tara gets involved...

"mom, i am gonna marry daddy today"

"bubby, dont you want to marry a girl instead?"

"oh yea, youre right. then im gonna marry grama jo instead"

"you need to marry a girl thats not in our family hon"

"ohhhh. i think im gonna marry tara jean"

"i think shed like that, why dont you call her and tell her that"

[my sweet moose calls and pours his heart out]

"mom, i am gonna marry tara jean today"

"oh yea? is that what she told you?"

"yea. and we have to go get her in michigan. but first i have to get her a ring. so i have to go make money. im going to go work at mcdonalds all day long..."

mcdonalds huh! thats my boy. the overachiever. it had to be one of the cutest things ive ever heard in my life. but sadly, as i sat and listened, i saw this very same scenario play out again 15 years from now. yeeeeaaaah. im so screwed.

hot damn.

ive been in an exceptionally wonderful mood tonite. not sure why either really. was stressed beyond belief most of the evening. Congratulations! 41 threats were detected! goodie. gimme more, please. cause 5 dozen a day just isnt enough for this girl. still not figured out. just when i think i have it under control another www.BigBoner.blahblah popup rears its ugly erection-happy head. i also had to endure back-to-back runs of Message in a Bottle on Tnn. my god. i was hoping that my tv would just roll over and die after being subjected to it the first time. of course not. way to go champ. its just wrong. wrong wrong wrong in so many ways. kevin costner, i should learn not to expect you not to suckass. you did do waterworld afterall. nuff said.

ahh yes. good day. finally. was beginning to feel like i was some tortured soul dressed all in black, reading poetry in a smokey coffee shop. yikes. someone please slap me first.

jon, you need to move the hell to wisconsin already. ill put you in my pocket. i even promise not to dopple your ganger. much.

as an update...
tnn is still on. or tbs. some crappy b rate channel at best. regardless. im sitting here typing away and i just about fall over backwards when i hear the voice come from the tv behind me. his voice. michael madsen. its called 'baby snatcher'. how lame. yet so badass enough to have him in it. hes even doing the eyebrow and lip thing i love so much. i think ill skip breakfast now i believe. that was enough tasty goodness for the day. i fear a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch would taint the madsen flavor. [slobber]

on that note: MORE HUMOR LESS DRAMA

squishy evil goo.

by far the cutest thing anyones ever called me.
kinda funny how one simple thing can make or break someone elses entire day. thank you.

but mostly... heres to you nick!

ive always thought i was at my best when it was deep into the hours of the nite. when everyone is sleeping, the world goes quiet. i can finally breathe. the demands of the daily routine have dulled to a low roar. breathe. just stop. try to breathe. heres my chance. chance to unwind, reflect. its my time. all for me. somehow ive lost my grasp on it. i spend hour after hour chasing the dark away with a bottle of jack daniels. dont let yourself feel. i try relentlessly to escape myself. to get out of my own skin. anything to not feel so alone. eventually, the mudding gets monotonous, and the bottle goes dry. im left with a drunk, sobbing shadow of my former self. look at yourself, youre a mess. its not like i dont see whats happening, what im becoming. i see it. i recognize it. but im lost without it. i cant handle me. the me that has to pretend to be strong. the me that has to maintain a constant smile to fool the world. the me that is constantly crippled with sadness. get a grip girl, youre losing it. the past haunts me. the future terrifies me. i remember having goals. dreams even. ive spent my whole life aspiring to be something greater. something bigger. and i imagine that one day i will. and the irony of it all is that it will, most likely, begin with a moment of clarity found within the deep hours of the nite...