A Gamers Love Affair

Chalks affair
Originally uploaded by .Amir

I'll have to tread lightly here. You never know who might be reading and I don't want to get anyone into trouble. I'm totally lying by the way. You see, I fell in love online. No, it's not what you think. It truly was a torrid love affair. I was married and my relationship was on it's way out the door. What I mean by that is the documents were downloaded, filled out, signed, stamped, delivered and pending. I was broken hearted and devastated, but I never let anyone see. I never let anyone in or see the truth behind the...I would say smile, but I don't smile much. Facade?

Friends and family asked me, sometimes demanded an explanation from me, but I didn't have one. I couldn't think of one. I knew in my heart why my relationship was over, but I couldn't utter it. Not really. I created my Live account earlier that year and I made so many good friends. I leaned on them though they didn't know it. Eventually a few of us got to know each other better. Gaming everyday, chatting online and in forums... a few of us even exchanged phone numbers. Slowly but surely I became really close to someone. We shared everything. Every dirty little secret, every complaint, every like and dislike. We didn't know it then, but we were falling in love.

I thought about what it would be like. We both admitted to having dreams about one another. It would bother me that in my dreams I struggled to see his face. I might catch him out of the corner of my eye. When and if I caught up to him my head would hurt and my eyes would blur as if I was trying to look at something I could never see, trying to look at something I could never have...should never have.

It wasn't long before we met, he didn't live far from me and if it hadn't been for my impending divorce I never would have had the courage to do what I did. I met him at his place and when we laid eyes on each other never once felt that awkwardness that you do when you meet someone new. Things felt easy and uncomplicated. I knew him heart and soul and he knew mine. We were together that night...just one night.

No one in my life had ever made me feel that way. So complete and at peace with myself. I felt that I had found a soul mate. How can you find a soul mate when you've just ended your marriage with the only soul mate you thought you'd ever have? But the feeling was mutual and we held each other tight falling asleep in each others arms. The next morning we parted ways, but before I did he professed his love and his utter devotion to me. He told me he wanted this to be the last time he ever let me go because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, if I would have him. I was so choked up I couldn't speak, for a second he thought I didn't feel the same way and his face dropped. I kissed him and shared my tears with his.

A year later we were in Mexico in our home. It was a beautiful home made from sun-dried earthen clay as were the rest of the homes in that area. We didn't have much furniture but the little furniture that decorated the house was beautiful, heavy and darkly lacquered. I was standing by an open window hearing the sounds. There was a fiesta, it was Dia De Los Muertos and people lined the streets drinking, smoking, eating and celebrating the dead. I walked over to the living room to find my love and stepped on a toy. It was a babies toy. I just stared at it as if I had no idea where it came from. I looked to the right and saw an empty baby walker and my heart slowly filled with pain. He saw me standing there and held me from behind, close and tight. He whispered to me that everything would be alright because he loved me so much and his love was strong enough for the two of us. I just stood there. I felt nothing. There was a deep void in my heart and I didn't know how to fill it.

He kissed my neck and walked away. I turned to him wanting to say something, but he walked out the door. After a moment I went after him. I didn't want to be alone. He wasn't far from me. Only a few houses and I walked briskly to catch up. I wanted to forget everything. I wanted him to take me into his arms whisper how much he loved me again. We were walking down a dirt path and it was dark out. You could hear music echoing everywhere.

He came upon a clearing and faced a couple of men. I'd never seen them before and this made me stop short. I stood there in the shadows watching and as I stood there black ants began crawling around my feet. Before you knew it they were all over my legs, my feet were bare as I was only wearing sandals. I brushed them away frantically and jumped to get away. Just then he turned to me and smiled, but as I got closer my head began to hurt and my eyes began to blur. Everything was getting brighter. There was a fire pit surrounded by a few of the native people and they all smiled at me, but their smiles were too bright. The fire began bouncing around everywhere and became brighter and brighter. The light hurt my eyes and made them water so that when I tried to look at his beautiful face I struggled to see it. Yet I couldn't and in my frustration I tried to hold it close to my own so that I might see him truly. The harder I tried the brighter things became until his skin became transparent.

Actually it was luminescent...the light wasn't coming from the fire, it was coming from him. It was literally emanating from within him. I stopped trying to see him and let him kiss me, but before he did I heard him whisper, "Maharet...Maha. What are you doing? Are you asleep...silly poppet. Wake up my love. I'm here. I'll always be here for you, with you. Don't cry baby, it's okay. I'm here."

I heard whimpering and a gun shot. When I opened my eyes I saw his character right in the middle of my screen, as though he could see me through the television radiating in my dark living room. He bobbed up and down in the familiar way then threw a grenade at my feet hoping to wake me up. "What happened?" I said half laughing.

"Are you drooling? Cause I think you're drooling dude. You were sleeping like a baby." he said as he looking down at my dead body.

"Oh my god, how embarrassing. I've never done that before." wiping the drool that had collected at the corner of my mouth. "GOD...I WAS drooling. How the fuck did you know?"

"I know you like the back of my ass baby." he said gracefully tea bagging my face.

"Duuuude, I had the weirdest fucking dream! HOLY..." and proceeded to tell him.

When I was finished we were both quiet for a moment. He broke the silence by saying, "I'm sorry Maha. I do love you, you know that, but...I never expected things to be this way you know?"

"I know." I said, not expecting an explanation.

"We were finished, It was over. It really was, but there's no way. Not when she drops a bomb like that on me." his voice began to shake.

"I know. I don't need you to tell me. I know." and taking a deep breath said, "You have a family to take care of soon and you don't need to worry about me I'll be fine."

He paused for a moment taking it all in and said, "God I love you so much. I wish it was you. I look at her every night and I close my eyes wishing to god it could be you carrying my baby. Sometimes I wonder if she's lying. If she said it because I asked her for a divorce you know?"

"If that were true you wouldn't still be with her. I know you...you know in your heart she's not lying. You know." my voice quivered as I emphasized those last two words and I began to cry silently.

We stayed quiet for a minute and sniffed at exactly the same time. Suddenly we broke out laughing and crying and laughing again. We played all night well into the wee morning hours. It was the last time we ever played together. Sometimes I still think it was all a dream.

Was he just a dream?

The Perfect Dashboard

Xbox 360 Dashboard 1
Originally uploaded by Steven J Weir

Is there any feature you would like to add to your 360 dashboard?

Personally I can't stand the Xbox 360 Dashboard. I get the feeling this post is going to belong in the Misreviewed section of my pages, but since it's a topic I'll keep it under the Miscellanists blog.

So the Dashboard was created to stay on top of all the new content available from Xbox Live and give us users a great interface with which to load games, access downloaded games and otherwise give people without a PC a lot of things not readily available to them.

That's great, but I need better navigation and search features. Right now I feel like a monkey picking my brains every time I open up the Dashboard. Like someone thinks I'm too stupid to figure out where everything might be. Maybe it's just me.

I don't jump on it as much as I used to either. I used to be all over the new content and downloading anything that was free, but you know... Not all that interested anymore. All they do is feed us a load of garbage. Everything that's worth anything has a cost and you know what? If you want me to pay a subscription fee then you'd better give me better content for free (and I don't mean advertisements either. Have you ever heard of downloading an advert???). I'm not saying that these things don't cost money. I understand that everyone has the right to make some cash, but seriously you're going to make me pay for a video clip? A 4 minute music clip that I could get on the Internet in two seconds and won't take away 10 of my life, sometimes more, downloading?

No thanks, I'd rather not. Also, I'm not sure about this, but how can I get pictures from my video camera to my pc...or at least store the pic's on my xbox? Anyone have a clue about that one because Rigid took the most adorable pic's of Grendel on his box and I need them...NOW. .... .... I'm okay.... I think I need food. lol

I really suck ass at this topic thing, but here are some suggestions I saw on the Gamespot Forums Dashboard Ideas thread:

"...I would like to see a bandwidth speed check so I know exactly what network speed my XBOX is getting." (obviously no one cares what your bandwidth speed check thingy is buddy.... wtf is th...oh.... never mind. actually, yeah no, that idea still sucks booboo.)

....yeah, that was the only one. HAHAHAHA!

Well, since that thread didn't work out how about the Spring Dashboard Update Ideas thread:

"to make it when you scroll over a persons name on your friend's list, it show with what they are doing in the game. " (Yeah! I love being nosy, plus a feature that you can see what they're playing and IF you have the game so people stop sending stupid invites to games I don't have because they're too fucking lazy to look at the "compare games" list.... wow... I didn't know I was so angry about this, thanks cookster! (that's you cookie me luv) I get lazy too though. lol)

"fix the caching issues when choosing a new profile icon." (wtf? I don't get it.)

"I wish they would let you delete gamerscore points that you don't want. For example, I only have 10 points for Dead or Alive 4, and I don't want that on there. But that most likely will never happen. Ummm, 3 way chat possibly? " (meh... I can live with it, but I also get it)

"Multiple Person Private Chat, for up to 4" (now this i could live with)

"Disable Dashboard ads/shortcuts" (disable those mother f'n ads of give me free access! Down with Existenz!!!! Look it up...it's a movie.)

"Web Browser
Full HTML support, and preferrably Flash as well" (You see!! I'm not the only crazy person thinking this! I'm not that original.... see!!!! Gimme what I want!)

woohooo....i'm kind of liking this topic thing. GOD I'm so lazy lately. woot! ~ teh mighteh maha...h

Getting Creative With Names

My XBOX360 Gamertag
Originally uploaded by lisamac

If you had to change your gamertag for any reason, what would you choose?

I have to admit, I didn't really think about it much at all when I created my Xbox Live gamertag back in the day. I've always used the name Maharet. It's difficult for me to remember stupid little things like user id's, passwords and telephone numbers.

Still, in the last few months I've been giving it a lot of thought and I might be ready to change my online identity as a whole. OOOhhh....ominous sounding no? Yes well, leave it to me to make something as simple as changing ones name so fucking enormously complicated.

Truth of the matter is that I'm a little sentimental about the name. Even though Rigid couldn't remember my name when he tried to add my gamertag he said it made an impact on him. He told me it stood out from other gamertags online back then. I liked his name as well. I didn't know what the hell it meant and even when he tried to explain it to me I still didn't understand, but I think it went well with his personality. He truly is rather rigid you know...and I'm talking about his personality nothing more.

Today I'm still Maharet on Live, but here and there you'll see my name pop up as Maharet Raider. I'd never change my gamertag to Maharet Raider, but I've been thinking about Leeloo.
If I do change my gamertag I'll want to do it with Rigid...I think this is a jump we'll have to take together. I think that would make the transition a whole lot easier for the two of us. We could say goodbye to Rigid and Maharet and hello to...something.

Maybe we'll take a poll one day but for now, what do you guys think of these:

I think this one's a bit pussified, but cute:
Arthur & Guinevere:The legendary King Arthur and his queen are at the center of a huge corpus of medieval and post-medieval literature.

I don't think Rigid would appreciate Lancelot. He was thinking more along the lines of Monkeyball Ferret or...something like that:
Lancelot & Guinevere...that's better because her heart belonged to Lancelot.

I think he wanted to name Grendell Clovis so that would work. That and my friends could nickname me Clitilda AHAHAHAHA! *snort *:
Clovis & Clotilda: Clovis defeated the last Roman ruler in Gaul and conquered various Germanic peoples in what is today France. Clotilda ultimately convinced Clovis to convert to Catholicism though he remained sympathetic to Arian Christianity.

Cause me and the Hooha are bad ass...No wait. The Spanish Inquisition, shit, was that a failure? I sucked in history.:
Ferdinand & Isabella: The "Catholic Monarchs" of Spain united Castile and Aragon when they married. Together, they overcame civil war, completed the reconquista by defeating the last Moorish holdout of Granada, and sponsored the voyages of Columbus. They also expelled the Jews and began the Spanish Inquisition.

Does this one remind you of anybody? Does it?:
Etienne de Castel & Christine de Pizan: The time Christine had with her husband was a mere ten years. His death left her in financial straits, and she turned to writing to support herself. Her works included love ballads dedicated to the late Etienne.

Hysterical:
Gareth & Lynette: In the Arthurian tale of Gareth & Lynette, first told by Malory, Gareth proves himself to be chivalrous, even though Lynette heaps scorn upon him.

This one's good because I expect no less from Rigid, though I don't like the idea of being called Philippa:
Geoffrey & Philippa Chaucer: He is considered the quintessential medieval English poet. She was his devoted wife for more than twenty years. While they were wed Geoffrey Chaucer led a busy, successful life in service to the king. After her death, he endured a solitary existence and wrote his most notable works, including Troilus and Criseyde and The Canterbury Tales.

Holy shit...if this isn't perfect I don't know what is. It's like my life has already been lived:
"Henry Plantaganet & Eleanor of Aquitaine: At the age of 30, the bold, beautiful Eleanor of Aquitaine was divorced from her husband, the meek and mild King Louis VII of France, and married the brash young 18-year-old Henry Plantaganet, future king of England. The two would have a tempestuous marriage,...."

Rigid would never go for this, but I do like Nimue. I've thought of it before:
Merlin & Nimue: Arthur's most trusted advisor may have been a wizard, but Merlin was also a man, susceptible to the charms of women. Nimue (a.k.a.Vivien, Nineve or Niniane) was so charming she was able to ensorcel Merlin and trap him in a cave, where he was unable to help Arthur in his time of darkest trouble.

Aw, now this is romantic:
Robert Guiscard & Sichelgaita: Sichelgaita (or Sikelgaita) was a Lombard princess who married Guiscard, a Norman warlord, and proceeded to accompany him on many campaigns. Anna Comnena wrote of Sichelgaita: "When dressed in full armor, the woman was a fearsome sight." When Robert died during the siege of Cephalonia, Sichelgaita was right by his side.

This is great because I always imagine Rigid is someone else when were... Just kidding!:
Uther & Igraine: Arthur's father Uther was king, and he coveted the wife of the Duke of Cornwall, Igraine. So Merlin cast a spell on Uther to make him look like Cornwall, and while the real duke was out fighting, he slipped in to have his way with the virtuous lady. The result? Cornwall died in battle, and Arthur was born nine months later.

Five Years Ago Today

I woke up today and found that it was September 11. I saw the president on television and I saw the shots of the twin towers getting hit. I forgot it was September and it made me sad to remember the day again. I was groggily coming in to work, much like today only I was actually on time. Everything was exactly the same as usual. Get out of my car and grumble over to the set of elevators in the parking lot that will take me to another set of elevators I need to take to get to my floor. Those elevators had been recently fitted with a nifty little screen that showed the latest news. I suppose it was designed to give people something better to look at than their own feet as they try to avoid pointless and uncomfortable conversations with strangers, but I was too groggy to care as I hopped in with two other people. They were jabbering on about something and talking in really excited voices. All I caught was plane… terrorist… unbelievable… attack… building. The words swam around in my head disconnected and disjointed as I looked up at the tiny screen to see a plane hit a building. Neat special effects… I yawned.

The two gentlemen got off on the 23 floor before me and I waited for my floor. The words kept swimming, swimming around and around until they started connecting…something was connecting as I stumbled out of the elevator. I started to wake up a little as I mulled over the words I heard. I passed one office and stopped when I saw the screen. A plane smacked into a building … ‘Holy shit.’, I thought. I passed by another office… A plane smacked into a building, ‘Oh fuck…’ I turned the corner to get to my desk and there it was again, the image of a plane crashing into a building in New York. I said, “What the fuck’s going on? Are we under attack or was that an accident? How could that happen? What’s going on?” The girl who sat next to me was completely flushed. “The World Trade Center was hit.” She said. I sat down said, “Shit” and got back up to find a television. Everyone was speculating that it was an attack and I had to agree. I couldn’t watch the burning building anymore so I sat back down to my desk and started to work. The fact that the World Trade Center was hit that our own people were in the building directly facing the World Trade Center sent shivers down my spine. We were being hit, the financial industry is being targeted…are we next?

I sat there quietly trying to do my work and talking with the others about what was happening speculating that they’ll probably let us go home. The girl next to me was growing more and more restless. She was scared and started to wonder if there were any planes in the sky headed straight for our building. I thought she was insane and wished she’d leave already. If the financial industry was being targeted chances are they’d go for Downtown, but we are next to the Federal Building in Westwood so you never know. The second plane hit. My neighbor jumped up, did a couple of circles, burst into tears and informed us that she was going home. The rest of us stayed and awaited further news. I had been on the phone with my husband, my now ex-husband. I don’t remember how many times the words shit and fuck escaped our mouths. After the second plane hit we knew we were under attack. I sat at my desk without emotion or fear. It was probably shock. We lost contact with our New York office. The Market was shut down. No one was trading. Eventually an announcement came informing us that we should go home to be with our families. I was among the last to leave the building. I stayed at my husbands building in Beverly Hills until he was told to go home as well.

The next day we came in The Market was still down and we still had no contact with our friends in New York but some people were calling on their cell phones and the stories started pouring in. I heard one girl tell a friend that she was outside for a cigarette and as she was walking back inside her friend caught her arm and dragged her outside. They ran for their lives as people came crashing down around them from the burning building. It was horrifying. Our building in front of the Twin Towers was caved in when the towers fell. Our base of operations was in New York and we were at a complete standstill. Somehow they picked up the pieces and moved to a new location… eventually … slowly things got back to normal.

I remember how angry I felt. So angry that I wanted revenge. Someone should pay for this. Someone would pay for this. I remember feeling proud of the way our president handled things in the coming days. How they tried to keep us calm and assured us that something would be done. All the information they spoon fed us made the entire country unite against the evil bastards that dared to think they could touch us. We invaded Afghanistan in search for the elusive Bin Ladin. We felt vindicated…hopeful…bloodthirsty. We never found him of course and the next thing you know were invading Iraq. You could hear a collective, “Huh?” uttered through the lips of every single person throughout the nation. It hit me like a ton of bricks…Oil. Stupid morons, were sitting here thinking were being avenged and our government is working that angle so we can secure the Oil. I felt like such an idiot. When I started to hear it in the news I knew I was right and then I was angry all over again because I knew what that meant. If oil prices rise I’m taking the bus to work. I don’t know anything about politics and I don’t usually care very much. I’m just a regular person trying to live my regular job to keep my regular life… regular. That day changed our nation. Whether for the best or for the worst is up to debate, but no matter the outcome I stand by my country. I love my life. My regular, ordinary and uneventful life and I’d like to make sure we keep it that way so if it means terrorizing those that terrorize us so be it. I just hope something good comes of it. I just hope we figure out when enough is enough sooner rather than later.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

This is going to be very difficult for me to write about, but it’s weighing so heavily on me that I can’t seem to function normally. Depression has a very heavy streak in my family and I’m not immune so when it hits me I get it pretty hard. I can’t think straight, I don’t clean my house because I’m too busy sleeping, I don’t write and I don’t even want to play video games. I try to, but I just don’t enjoy it. If I play it’s usually to satisfy someone else and well, I prefer to satisfy myself thank you. I feel weighed down and stomped on. My entire back is aching and my shoulders are hurting really badly…as though something is sitting on them. My stomach is churning and turning as though I’m expecting something horrible to happen, but I don’t know what it is. Let me tell you, we’re either going to have a really big earthquake or I’m just freakin’ nuts and I need to relax. Could be cigarette withdrawals, but all that really does is exacerbate current conditions of anxiety and depression which basically still means I’m nuts only all on my own.

So, pretty boring I know, but there’s a method to my madness. My life revolves around my husband. My love for him is so fierce and if you’ve ever felt anything like this you’ll know exactly how I feel. I could stand in front of a bus for him. I’d stick my head in a Tigers mouth if it meant it would save his life. Yet I feel that I’ve done nothing but put him in danger and I don’t seem to be coping well with that. When we fell in love it sort of hit us like a truck. I had been separated from my husband (yes, he still lived with me) and was well on my way to divorce by the time Rigid and I met. The rest of that first year was spent traveling back and forth between England and the US. We visited family in Mexico several times as well, which made the transition between my ex-husband and my husband-to-be very easy. My family readily accepted him into my life. Lucky for me he wasn’t the first white man to marry into the family though he was the first Englishman. Rigid’s quirky sense of humor and charismatic attitude really helped him integrate easily with my family so when it came time to let everyone know that I had another wedding in the works it came as no surprise and he was met with open arms and huge smiles.

Of course, everyone asked the dreaded question, “So are you moving over there or is he moving over here?” It was so early in the relationship though that we weren’t quite ready to make that decision so those inquiries were usually met with a cool, “Oh, he’s probably moving here, but it’s still early.” My family understood if I decided to move to England. There’s a bit of an adventurer in all of us, but Rigid didn’t want me to relocate and leave my family. His family consists of himself, his mother and her dog. He’s got family, but they became estranged after his Grandfathers death. His Grandmothers death a few years back sealed the coffin on the estrangement between his mother and the rest of the family. Rigid likes my family, he loves my family and couldn’t bear the though of taking me away from them. He simply figured it would be easier for him to stay here. His mother was against it from the start though she knew there really wasn’t anything she could do about it. He’s a grown man after all and the authorities at the airport wouldn’t be able to hold him. She threatened him on several of his trips to stop him from flying to the States. Said she would make up a story that he beat her and they would take him to jail. Said she could have her friends (of questionable background) break his legs in two. On one occasion she even went as far as hiding his passport just before his flight here.

She put us through the ringer, but I think that just reinforced his adamant desire to flee the country and find a new life with me. Okay, so he didn’t flee... It just sounded more dramatic. Well, I being the constant voice of reason (if you can believe that) told him that obviously his mother would be devastated if he left her. After all she’s all he’s got and we should be understanding about it. My family will understand and they’ll always be here for me. If I have to move to England then that’s what we’ll do. So the most important thing will be to figure out where we’ll be staying. That’s when she went slightly bonkers. She didn’t want me in the country at all. See, some days she’d pretend that she liked me and that she understood what we wanted and other days she was just evil incarnate. Sound Bi-polar? Yeah, so that said after his 2nd to last trip back to the US he was back in England and working. He gave her every penny he made and wasn’t able to save any money for his next trip thus far. Each time he flew it cost around $400-$600 US Dlls and it was killing us. Not to mention the fact that he was still owed money by his mother because she made him miss a flight. She was not nice…not nice at all.

Because of her we spent our first Christmas as a couple desperately apart. Not only was he in another country far far away from me, she also decided that we shouldn’t have any communications with each other in at all. She took all the Internet connections in the house and hid them like the rat that she is. He wasn’t able to use his Xbox or his PC to communicate with me. There was absolutely nothing she could do about our phones though, but this cost us dearly in phone bills. This behavior continued for weeks. He tried to tell her I’d move there, but she wouldn’t hear it. He tried to tell her that he’d pay extra money monthly if that was her concern (keep in mind he was already giving her all his money and she actually owed him $600 for a plane ticket), but she didn’t care. I’m sure she was trying to teach him a lesson… The only problem was that he wasn’t 12 and I wasn’t either.

Just after New Years Eve she let up and re-connected everything. He told her again that he’d pay her extra for the DSL, but she wouldn’t hear it. I know it was about control. She’d get exactly what she wanted out of him each and every time if she controlled our communication. And she did, that one time. The next time she did it again just two weeks later so we gave her an ultimatum. Either give him the connections or a plane ticket is being purchased the following day. I know what you’re thinking, “Phff. It’s her house. She can do what she wants!” Yeah, she can but the only reason Rigid was there was to help her pay her mortgage, bills and help “fix up” the house that was left to them when his Grandmother passed away. It’s pretty much all they have left of her and he was supposed to help his mom with her mortgage and HER mounting bills. Either that or she’d lose the house and become a destitute homeless wench. Mind you, she wasn’t working half the time!!! THAT’S why we had decided that he stay and I would eventually move once the divorce was through, but she fucked up royally. She threatened to throw me out into the street if I ever went there, threatened to have people do away with me, said that if we ever had children together that he’d better not take them to see her because she’d kill them all…just idiotic things like that so when she took the Internet connections away I had just about had enough of her nonsense. Did I mention she threw him out on his last trip?

I sat here on my desk at work and had to find him a place to stay while he wandered around in the streets at night just 2 days before his trip. So to say I’m bitter towards her is a HUGE understatement. In fact it’s such an understatement I can’t even think of a good enough statement that would allow you to encompass how truly bitter I am towards her. Removing our only form of communication once again was the last straw! With this sort of behavior I knew our relationship didn’t stand a chance. She backed us into a wall and I did the only thing I could do at the time. I got him out of that house. She was absolutely insane and she was hurting him. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally and there was no way I could stand for it. Obviously when given the ultimatum she didn’t plan on giving in so the ticket was purchased and plans were made. I hoped that one-week would be enough for him to gather his things. We then prepared for the emotional explosion that was to come. Just as we expected she threw him out into the street again along with what little belongings he had. It was January and bitter cold in Black Pool. We also didn’t have much money, but we had to figure something out. What we did at this point is a little foggy, but she spent his last day in England telling him that he’d better not ever come back home. That he’ll never have a place to stay with her and that she’ll kill me if she ever sees me.

She called me over and over again just to tell me what a whore I was and what was I thinking. That I was ruining his life and any chance he had at a military career just for a fuck. On one occasion she called just to tell me that she was going to save money to buy a plane ticket so she could come knock on my door and kill me where I stood. I told her I’d buy her the ticket whenever she was ready. She hung up on me. I was being nice. I believe he spoke to her once more before he left. He let her know that she wouldn’t have to worry, that she’d never see him again. She tried to be nice to him, but he let her know that the threats she made to me simply crossed the line and she’ll never earn his respect again. She tried to make him understand why she was so upset, but he wouldn’t hear it either. They shut each other out like that all the time. He gets it from her. What a surprise.

We felt such a relief when he was back home. We’d been apart for over 4 months then and we couldn’t have been happier. This was the plan: My divorce paperwork should get there before the end of the end of the month (Jan.). This would leave us free to get married before his 3-month visa expired. We could do a quickie wedding and get all the paperwork together to submit to the INS and then all we’ll have to do is wait for his work permit, travel permit and voile semi-legal status here we come! Can you imagine our horror when what we got in the mail wasn’t my divorce paperwork, but a document that said we had to RESUBMIT our paperwork because my ex-husband wrote the dates down wrong??? Can you imagine our HORROR??? What the fuck were we going to do now? There was no way those documents were going to be ready in time. It could take MONTHS. To say we were shitting our pants is a bit of an exaggeration…no wait it wasn’t an exaggeration at all because there’s still a huge log in my pants about that. I went on a silent rampage and I have no idea what I told my ex-husband. I was so beside myself I couldn’t even deal with it. I couldn’t even talk about it! Rigid and Pumpo had to go and fix the mistakes on their own and all I could do was stew in my own juices. What the hell were we going to do now?

I started to look up anything and everything immigration. I prepared myself with all the documents I’d have to file once we got married. I told him that there was a good chance he’d have to go back home before we got married, but he told me that he had no home to go back to remember? A friend then, but no his friends had children and would be unable to take him in. I didn’t quite understand that, but I wasn’t going to argue either. So we counted down the days and he tried to prepare to face the world as an Illegal Alien. Okay, so that’s dramatic he’s not actually illegal he’s only just “overstayed” his visit, but there is a big fat fine associated with that and if he leaves the country he’ll be banned for 10 yrs. That’s all, but still…we felt awfully illegal. Mostly we felt terribly ashamed that things just didn’t work out the way we planned. Still we struggled on and counted down the days until my eventual divorce and dealt with the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to work for a while. Don’t misunderstand me, we knew he HAD to work and from the beginning I’ve seen a world that my culture has very close ties to, but one which I’ve never quite understood. My family is from Mexico, but my grandmother was born in American waters on a boat and my grandfather worked hard to get his sons and daughters into the country legally. Either that or he let them fend for themselves and they worked it out…legally.

Until Rigid came along I didn’t really know how truly easy it was so get a Social Security card and Fake ID. My younger sister is savvier in the ways of the underground and she took us to one of the seediest parts of Los Angeles: the Alameda Swamp Meet. By the end of the day I knew exactly what type of individual to look for if I ever needed a Social Security Card, ID or any other form of documentation. This is what you do. It’s a very complicated and dangerous procedure so please don’t try this at home or at your local swap meet. You just walk out of the parking lot with your entire family in tow, kids and all, stand on the curb whispering to one another, maybe buy a giant mayo/parmesan cheese covered corn on the cob (What I was hungry!), push your little sister out in front of you and wait until some really brown dude walks by and whispers, “Seguros.” Then let your little sister do all the talking. Okay so that was MUY ILLEGAL, but we didn’t think we’d be able to survive the next few months any other way. It didn’t do us any good anyhow because he never used the damn things…OKAY so he used them a couple of times but we were too freaked out to follow through!!! I told him he should at least save them as a souvenir, but he didn’t think it was funny and burned the evidence. Eventually we just tightened our belts and made do with my earnings.

The next few months were torture as we waited for the divorce to come through. Before you knew it he “overstayed” his visit and we knew we were screwed.

Image: http://worldunfurled.com/img/plane.jpg

The Truth Behind Online Love

I just read an article about Online/Offline love. Those people make me sick. They're much too happy and you know it's all a lie. I'M NOT BITTER! I'm just saying...things aren't always what they seem to be. You meet in a videogame, not a bar or grocery store. You don't meet waiting in some post office line or fall in love with a co-worker. No, you have to fall in love with a fellow video gamer. A buddy you run around in a virtual reality type setting killing, smashing & fragging each other or others. You know it's love because you just can't play with anyone else. You just don't enjoy it. Then one day you realize your in love.

Maybe you've had your heart broken before (twice even) and decide that it's time for you to take a real chance on love. Maybe your tired of getting old by yourself. Sure your surrounded by people, but...somethings missing. Maybe you want a family and want to be with someone who does too. Maybe your just ready for the biggest life change ever and you've just got to move on. MAYBE YOUR JUST FUCKING STUPID!!! Why? Because you fell in love IN A VIDEOGAME that's why! So then you meet and everything is wonderful, and then he goes away comes back then goes away again. You do this over and over until you just can't take it anymore. Until your just about ready to implode and then...you get married. It's wonderful, don't get me wrong, but things just aren't settling; just not clicking.

Thing is that that's not even where the fighting began is it? No, the fighting began way back in your video gaming days. Those same type of arguments that haven't changed one bit. That's wrong, they have changed...topic, focus even but the intensity has remained. You always feel like your being attacked, but that burning flame doesn't die. It won't burn out. What a stupid cliche that is, but it rings true. Yeah, I'm talking about my relationship it's true, but I'm sick to death of hearing about the wonderfull little online relationships like the ones in this story:Online gamers find offline love. It's all bullshit. Nothing but a bunch of smoke and mirrors. LIES I TELL YOU.

Sure things are all peachy in the beginning, but when it comes right down to it things are exactly the same. There is no fairytale. You struggle to pay your bills, you struggle to get along...you struggle to live. It's easier of course when you don't have to leave your country to make things work. Moving to another state isn't as hard as moving halfway around the world. The truth is that as much as I hate to admit it the United States is the worst immigration wise. It would have been easier to move to England, but that means I would have had to leave a steady job with benefits to live with someones mother while they got their shit together outside of the army. Either that or I'd be living in some baracks somewhere and my husband would have to leave me 9 months out of the year or more.

Point is that being in a relationship is hard. Damn hard. It's hard enough just trying to make things work, but you throw in moving to another country, getting residency for your loved one and finding work just so you can put food on the table. It's no easy task. If anyone should know it's my husband.

The Trinity of Death

The Morrigan, my Morrigan, got her name from the Celtic Goddess of War; The keeper of Death. Morrigan ran away a couple of months ago. Actually she more than likely simply rolled out of a window by accident. By the time I actually got around to write about it she had been gone for nearly two weeks. To say I was distraught...well, it's a bit of an understatement. I have a knack for keeping my true feelings hidden. If I could hide my deep desire to have children for so many years I could hide anything. It hasn't been easy though and It's gotten harder and harder the more time goes by. I don't know why, maybe I'm getting old. Just after I was able two write about the incident she came home. Both Morrigan & Salem came home and I was happy again.

She continued her bad behavior urinating around the house as did Salem, but I kept things as clean and neat as humanly possible, used Pet Stain Oxiclean around every corner and gave both of them lots of love and attention. Suddenly instead of urinating all over the house she started eating absolutely everything in site. Rigid asked me why I thought she would be doing that and I told him she was either pregnant or was starved out in the street so that when she came back she started to overeat to compensate. If that makes sense at all... Kitty psychology or so I thought. Within a few weeks she gained so much weight. Don't get me wrong we suspected she could be pregnant, but the way she put weight on was strange. I actually thought there might be something else wrong with her.

About a month and a half after she'd come home we started to worry more and I thought we should see a vet, but she seemed happy. Fat, but happy. I figured she was just getting some really bad habits. It got to the point where she was eating Salems food. When Salem started to lose weight we freaked and started feeding Salem on the side to try to keep her weight up. Morrigan had turned into a little pigly wiggly and I was not happy. I started restricting her diet. Fed them twice a day and only about a cup each time. Of course she still ate Salems food so she was still getting more than she needed. I even started trying to get her to excercise more. Nothing worked. We were frustrated and angry and didn't know what to do anymore.

The Morrigan needed attention so she meowed and meowed, but we ignored her pleas. That's what she gets for being a naughty kitty eating her sisters food. I felt guilty, but justified. I checked her belly so many times and went into my memory banks of all the pregnant cats I've seen in my life time and never do I remember a cat carrying so high and wide. It looked like someone stuffed her like a turkey....like she'd eaten a large bird and it sat in her belly sideways like in the cartoons. You'd think the nipples would have tipped me off at some point. We looked at them and messed with them when we rubbed her belly...even squished them just in case. No milk...very puzzling indeed.

Her neediness grew worse and worse with each passing day. Where ever I went she went. It was so bad that I was afraid to ever step back without looking because I had stepped on her tail so many times before. I got so angry at her at 0ne point for getting underfoot that I even went to far as to step on her tail on purpose to teach her a lesson and get her out of my way once and for all. It wasn't hard, but I hurt her feelings because she knew I'd done it on purpose. Have you ever seen a cat look at you that way? It's not fun and that was the day she was being particularly needy. She wouldn't leave our side, not even to let us eat. She knows to stay away when food is on the table, but she was being very naughty and meowing for attention while we ate.

Rigid cast her aside like a rag doll after having scolded her so many times before. I was horrified and warned him not to treat her that way again. She's only an animal after all and doesn't understand why she shouldn't be there. Plus the enormous weight of her girth could snap her legs in two! If I had been thinking at all I would have kept the water bottle at my side as I've had to do the last few weeks. I got sick of coming home to a disheveled house night after night because Morrigan decided she wanted to stretch out on everything throwing all my knickknacks on the floor. The water bottle did the trick. She can't even see it in my hand because she'll run for her very life. Later that evening we were on the couch watching television. I was watching "So You Think You Can Dance" and forcing Rigid to watch with me to spend quality time together. WHAT? There was nothing else on! *ahem*

Morrigan decides it's okay to be pushy and whiny again because there's no human food around. Unfortunately the cat decided she wanted to lay with me, but it was hot and I didn't feel like having fur on my leg. That and I was very annoyed with her for being so needy and whiny and constantly getting underfoot nearly tripping me half a dozen times this weeks. I was sick of it! I shoved her off me. She'd meow/purred and come back for more so I pushed her and told Rigid to keep her next to him. He tried, but she wanted me so I got off the couch, grabbed a giant pillow from another chair, shoved her aside again then plopped down on the couch with the pillow between she and I.

I realized that I would actually be getting hotter this way, but I didn't care. It wasn't about the heat anymore, this cat had annoyed the living shit out of me and I wanted her head! Rigid tried to make her feel better by giving her love and petting her while we continued to watch TV. I think he even called me mean and asked her to forgive me. I gave him a obstinate glare and he chuckled at himself. I was enjoying watching people prancing on TV...I like watching other people cry. It makes me feel good. Not in a perverse sort of way but in a way that makes me feel like I'm not the only idiot out there with feelings. In a way that makes me feel good about peoples triumphs and choices but before I even had a chance to get into the show Rigid became concerned with a noise she made.

I thought he had farted, but it was Morrigan. It didn't smell it was just a noise I had never heard the cat make. He started yelling that she was having babies and I told him he was crazy, but I was concerned so I removed the pillow and started petting her belly. Her nipples were massive and that's when I got worried. My brain started to go blank on me. I was sure it was over 3 months since she'd gotten out. That's much too long. Gestation is about 2 months right? Yeah. I petted her and checked her nipples, squished them...Nothing. I figured he was over reacting and she's probably starting to make funny fat noises like some animals I've known. Definitely decided to take her to the Vet on Monday. About 10 min after that Rigid jumped off the couch and started screaming that she was having contractions. That she was having babies. He wasn't making any sense to me so I gave him a piece of my mind as I continued to pet and coo Morrigan.

He'd startled her and she was meowing. Suddenly I saw it. She was just lying there and then this wave exploded through her furry little body from her chest just above her stomach down to her toes. I jumped up screaming "Oh my god!" over and over again and instantly broke into hysterical tears. Just like that all the awful things we did, all the neglect came rushing back to me stabbing me in the neck....Not the heart. The neck…kind of like those awful movies you’ve seen of prison house shankings; that's why I felt I couldn't breath. Rigid tried to calm me down, but his version of calm is a little skewed. "Maharet! Shut the fuck up, your freaking Morrigan out. Calm the fuck down. Get a hold of yourself your only making things worse."

He was right of course so I went to the open part of the living room and sat with Morrigan while I tried to think more clearly. Unfortunately the contractions were a little distracting and I was filled with grief all over again so that I was just sitting there trying to pet her trying not to spit all over her while I tried to tell Rigid what to do. Get on the internet, find me information, call my sister. He tried the Internet, but halfway through Morrigan decided she didn't want him away from us and got up in the middle of a contraction. He brought me the phone and brought her back and tried to find me my sister’s number. Everything flew out of my brain so I couldn't think which is weird for me because I'm always very much in control. Icy control...that's what I'm known for. It was my cat though and I melted. Every awful thing, every bit of neglect jabbing away at my skull like a hot poker melting away every last bit of control I ever had.

I was beyond a wreck...and I couldn’t get a hold of my sister. Thank god because I would have freaked her out. Rigid decided to call Pumpo and told him what was going on. When he spoke to me the first words that came out of the earpiece was "First of all CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Okay?", it was hard, but I tried and I listened and just talking about all the stuff we needed to expect really helped me get through this. When I told him why I felt the way I did he helped me understand that there's nothing I could do about it and that he knows our actions didn't put her into labor... That it sounded like she was right on time and that stepping on her tail isn't going to make her lose her babies. I eventually got off the phone and hung it up. By the time I got back to her she had already given birth to her first kitten....It happened right under my nose. She had all three kittens just fine and they all survived the night. I took the next day off to get some rest and a few more hours of sleep. I was worried that the kittens didn't seem to be suckling properly so I took her to the Vet. She also hadn't expelled the other two placentas and I was very worried about her health.

The Dr was a bit of a prick at first, but he was nice enough once we got in there. He told me there was nothing to worry about and that I most likely will never actually see the kittens feed then he gave her a shot in case she hadn't expelled the placentas. Said it would help her milk production as well. I believed him when he said I needed to stop fussing over her and that the kittens would be fine. The next day I got home and found two dead under the computer. Ants crawled all over their tiny bodies and I was horrified and disgusted. It's not the first time I've seen dead cats or kittens, but I think it was the first time they were mine. I realized the third kitten was missing and I figured someone ate it. I was bereaved and I didn't know who to call or what to do. I tried to look for the kitten, but I couldn't find it. I finally heard a tiny meow and found her behind my TV. He seemed strong enough, but also didn’t seem to be feeding properly. I walked to the store two very long blocks away and blistered my foot in the process. I got back to the apt huffing and puffing (I’m a slacker…I do nothing.) and tried to feed the kitten with a children’s toy bottle. He tried a little, but he didn’t like the milk. After Rigid got home he tried some more of his tough love and yelled at me to get up so we could take the kitten to the hospital. I could barely lift my head off the floor. I just got done trying to feed a kitten that didn’t want to feed and Morrigan kept getting in the way. I just didn’t know what to do anymore.

I weakly told him to fuck off because I didn’t even have the strength to tell him what a dick he was being to me and to cut it the fuck out. To be fair though he did care for the dead kittens. He washed all the horrible ants of their bodies, put them away in a little box then buried them in the yard. He even made a little cross for the grave. I thought that a very bizarre thing to do, but I was more concerned with the last kitten. I tried to convince myself that he was fighting tooth and nail; that it wasn’t dying and that I was just being overly dramatic. I even spoke to another friend who told me her kittens slept all the time when they were just born and not to worry. But he died the next day. I knew they were going to die. I knew they were all going to die because all those little things that threw me into hysterics were real. They weren’t imagined. Had we known she was pregnant things would have been different I know, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m trying not to blame myself or my husband for this. I’m trying not to see my cat flying through the air and hit the floor over and over again. I’m trying not to hate him because it’s not his fault.

Last night was the first night she let me sleep without pawing at my door and meowing. Maybe it was the vinegar? I thought it might be, but no…She was lying right outside my door waiting for me to wake up and when I did we both went to the computer without thinking. She let out a strangled little purr and I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around and got in the shower. It’ll take us a little while to recover from this, but we’ll be fine. We know Morrigan is too old at this point to really have healthy kittens so we most likely will go through with our decision to have her spayed. I think it’s the right thing to do. Still according to my calculations she went into labor a little early…maybe. Anywhere between 57 and 68 days…or is that normal. It’s varied.

So I named the kitties after they all died… I haven’t actually seen the little grave Rigid made for them. Maybe I’ll get out there and visit The Morrigan Trinity of Life & Death: Macha (Raven), Badb (The Crow) & Nemain (Battle Fury) Or according to Rigid: Mr. Black, Mr. Grey and Mr. Orange.

My Anus Doth Protest

I had a fabulous weekend. Forget about the fact that I tried to kill my husband with flailing and ineffectual whacks across his chest and arms when he pissed me off on Sunday. We had a fabulous weekend. What? We did. We saw over the hedge on Saturday and it was great. I loved that movie and laughed my buttocks off. We spent the evening indoors sniffing each others butts the rest of the time. Okay, so we sat in separate rooms playing video games. I bought a used copy of Hitman 2 and he’s still going nowhere in Morrowind. Oh he finished the main quest already, days ago in fact, but he’s still advancing his character. It’s a never-ending game and I fear I may never re-gain access to my husband while he continues. The next morning he took me out for breakfast at our favorite Mexican restaurant. I even took a picture of Rigid’s food so you can get a glimpse of what it’s like to be and Englishman eating Mexican. (See MaMoBlog) It’s a wonderful combination actually and quite strange to watch. Especially when your whiter than white Englishman can eat spicier food than you…a woman born of very Mexican parentage in America.

All this hoopla about the World Cup has me really excited. I blame Klunkk, Phorexia, Djanae and the countless other members who have inspired me to rally behind my favorite countries in support. We sat at the Mexican restaurant laughing, talking, eating and watching the game. I didn’t know who was playing. I believe it may have been Argentina. I was thrilled to know at least one team and I loved it. I began asking Rigid all sorts of questions, which he answered with ease and a certain an air of indifference. No matter I’ll usually just shrug it off and ignore it, still we had a really nice time. We decided to go home after that instead of anywhere else and I anticipated catching another football game if I was lucky. When we got home it was Mexico vs Iran, a most exciting combination of teams for me… because you know… I’m Mexican. Rigid and I sat close together while watching the game, Mexican food. Content is a good word for this. Very content, which is why the next series of events are so shocking and disturbing.

Rigid decided he’d check the bank account to see how much, or rather, how little money we had. I continued watching the game and screamed when Mexico scored. I must say that I was left rather deflated regarding the American announcers reactions. It’s was like… “Score…”, so very anticlimactic. I prefer the “Goooooooooooooooal, goal, goal, goal, goooooooooooooooal” that the Latin stations belt out. It makes it so much more fun…course, I’m not exactly the greatest bi-lingual here. In fact I downright suck ass at Spanish. Sad I know. This makes my decision to watch the American stations very easy for me despite their less than enthused announcers. Keep in mind though, I still have to concentrate because I don’t know what’s going on half the time. So after the goal I’m trying to hear the announcers and Rigid is trying to explain how Iran’s team left themselves wide open and then it happened. Rigid noticed something was wrong in the account. “We’re short Maharet.” But was met with the blank and concentrated stare of someone who acknowledges you, but doesn’t listen. “No were not Rigid.”, I answer back.

“Yes, Maharet, the bank is wrong I just added everything up and were short $13.00.”

“So your bitching about $13.00? Who gives a shit?”, still concentrating on the announcers and the game. I’m really loving my big screen TV at that moment too. My heart swells with pride as the footballers run across my screen from end to end.

“I give a shit, Maharet, the bank has fucked us again. I’ve been right about this before and they’re fucking us!!!”, shaking a hand at the computer. He poked at the screen as though this feeble action is going to make me understand how much the bank if fucking us.

Never taking my eyes off the glowing screen, “Rigid, you’re pissing me off. The bank isn’t wrong dear. You are. If your missing $13.00 check if there’s a charge for $13.00 on the screen. I guarantee you missed it.”

Staring at the screen with an unnatural look of incredulity he did his calculations again… This time with a handy calculator, “No… It’s wrong. We’re short and… Fuck, they charged the fee! They charged the $30.00 fee you said they weren’t going charge Maharet? What the fuck?”

As he continued to poke the computer screen I calmly replied, “RIGID, calm down honey. Stop being ridiculous they credited the account the same day.” Unfortunately he didn’t understand and couldn’t understand why the bank would credit the account first and then charge the fee afterwards. No matter how many times I tried to explain it he could not understand that I called for a credit on a fee that would be erroneously charged BEFORE it was actually charged and that they credited the account BEFORE I was charged because I CALLED BEFORE THE FEE WAS FUCKING CHARGED!!!!! Yeah, weird sentence, but you are being given a tiny glimpse into the insanity that ensued.

I explained it 20 different ways, HELL I would have explained it in Chinese if I thought it would have helped. I got up and looked and showed him that we were not charged previously. Showed him the credit, showed him the charge, showed him the credit, showed him the charge, showed him the credit, showed him the charge, I’m not in any way exaggerating, showed him the credit, showed him the charge, showed him the credit, showed him the charge, he never took his eyes of my finger as I showed him the credit, showed him the charge and I asked him if he understood me so when he said, “No Maharet! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!! Why would they credit and THEN charge? That means were short money! They’re fucking us! The account is short!” I fucking LOST my MOTHER FUCKING mind… again. I started shaking and crying and really more than anything felt a fear that either I was losing my mind or my husband had lost his somewhere along the way dating back to the day he was put in a coma by a speeding driver at the tender age of 10, or maybe the day he was bashed over the head with an ashtray at 17, had his jaw broken by 15 trampling Rugby players at 19 or the several bottles that were broken to bits over his head on various occasions at the bars he’d worked.

“How, please tell me and help me understand… how can you not understand that? What’s the matter with you? Are you okay? You’re scaring me. Are you fucking with me, or something? What’s WRONG with you?”, I stood bent over him pleading with him, trying to understand what was blocking his mind. How could I help him at this point, what could I do? I was shaking through my tears though and couldn’t think anymore because a different type of fear entered my brain. ‘My husband is NOT normal. There’s something wrong with him.’, this thought snaked it’s way through my brain and coiled itself around my heart crushing the life out of it. My chest tightened and I could scarcely breath. I was at a complete loss so I tried to remember what my counselor told me, the woman I’d only been to see twice. “So, it sounds like you’re the problem solver in the relationship. Yeah, that’s a heavy responsibility. It must be very frustrating to you when he doesn’t seem to HEAR you.”, she said.

I moved him out of the way and told him to watch me. I quickly, shakily tallied the numbers up. I was off only by a few cents but basically came up with the same numbers as the computer. He still told me I was wrong, that he’s been proved right before that the bank has messed up, but I begged to differ. That has never actually happened and I don’t know how he came up with that. So I did it again and this time pulled him close to me so he could see me adding the numbers. As I sat there inputting the numbers on the calculator, tears streaming down my face, I made sure he saw each number versus the statement on the computer. Let him watch carefully as I added the total balance and subtracted that from our ending balance on the last statement. His reaction shocked me beyond words or emotion. “Oh, I’m sorry Hooha. You were right. I was wrong.”, and he proceeded to kiss me on the forehead. That tightness around my chest that had been slowly building up, the tears that had been coming down my face, that snake that coiled itself around my heart they all came rushing out of me at once and in one, quite fatal moment, I made a very bad choice. I let it take over me and when I felt that kiss on my forehead I rebelled against it with every fiber of my being. Suddenly I hated him and all the love I felt turned black. I pushed him off me…hard.

As I screamed he stumbled backwards and nearly lost his balance. I can’t remember what he said. He slammed something down on the coffee table, I threw my calculator at him while screaming incoherently. In response he grabbed a large candle in the living room and threw it at the door to our bedroom and of course to further exacerbate the situation I got up, screamed like a banshee and started flailing my arms around like a windmill with fists. He grabbed me, which is always a mistake, called me crazy, which is always a mistake, then let me go when I started screaming even more….which is always a mistake. I’m sure you get the idea that he could do no right at this point. This frustrated him so much that he made the decision to leave me once and for all. He let me go. Told me he couldn’t deal with me anymore, that I needed help and that he was leaving me. My heart sank because I knew he was right. ‘I’M not normal’, I thought.

I chased after him, yelling at him and he kept going to the bedroom and got down to business. What’s the first thing you pack when you’re finally determined leave you wife once and for all. Your socks of course. That’s the first thing I would think of. Yes, I’m being sarcastic. Socks, right… So he took every sock he had in his sock drawer and threw them onto the bed. He started to come around the bed again, but there was no room to get around me. I blocked his way still screaming and smacking him on the arms. The act of doing something like that is awful and unthinkable especially when done in anger, but I wasn’t actually doing anything to him. It was beyond ineffectual, as I had no strength left in my body. I never did. ‘He should leave you. Your fucking crazy.’, so I walked away after I told him to leave me, after I told him he was right. “Pack your bags and get the fuck out of my house. Your right, I’m fucking crazy.”, at which I stomped to the living room, threw myself on my custom made comfy couch and wailed out whatever tears were left. I knew the neighbors must be able to hear me, but I didn’t care. I wailed like I’d lost a lover. Wait, I had lost a lover and I mourned before he had even stepped one foot out of my house. I knew he’d leave me this time for certain and the pain and agony I felt was more than I could bear. I felt my heart ripping out of my chest and I cried, I sobbed, I choked with sorrow.

He came to me just then. Knelt by the couch and held me. He kissed my face through my hands and wiped my brow and told me how sorry he was and that he didn’t want to lose me. That he would do anything to keep us together. Anything. I shook my head in protest and the strangled words that came out of my mouth were barely recognizable, but I knew what I said, “No, your right. You should leave me. I don’t deserve to be with you. With anybody.” He didn’t understand a word I said yet he knew exactly what I was saying. I’ve said it on more than one occasion. So has he. I let him hold me though. I really needed it. A short while later we sat together on the couch composed, and feeling normal; we continued to watch the game. It had all happened so fast we’d hardly missed a thing. Eventually the game was over and Mexico won. I never even missed a single goal. We were happy again. Perfectly happy.

I can’t remember what we did to fill the time between then and Chinatown. Maybe we sat and talked. Maybe I apologized over and over again. Maybe…he did the same. We decided Chinatown, though, because it would be a welcome distraction and Chinese sounded like a great idea. I grabbed my camera on the way out and left that ugliness behind us; we looked forward to an afternoon filled with our favorite Chinese cuisines. I could already envision the sights and smells of Chinatown.

The first thing we did was head over to a tiny restaurant down one of the side roads. On that I know not many people would frequent due to it’s decrepit state. I warned Rigid that this wouldn’t be your usual fancy restaurant that we may in fact be lucky if it’s got more than a ‘C’ rating. He said his stomach could handle anything. We were in luck. It was a ‘B’. the restaurant was bustling with Hindi’s, Pakistanis, Los Angelinos and Asians of all sorts. You might even see a sprinkling of white folk here and there, but I guarantee Rigid was the only Englishman there. The scents assaulted our nostrils and our tummies started rumbling. I told him to watch the staff in the hopes that they would simply ignore us and when they did I knew I’d come to the right place. An old friend of mine told me this little secret. A restaurant that serves good food will always meet customers with a cold and unfriendly attitude. They don’t need to have great service because their food is exceptionally tasty.

We stood respectfully waiting and once I was satisfied that we had waited long enough went straight to the back of the room and told a waiter where I’d be sitting. He said thank you and gave me two dirty menus. Rigid and I took our time deciding on our dishes and this time it was my turn to tell him what the service would be like and how we would eat our dinners. (Last time we fought he took me to eat Indian food!) A waiter brought us piping hot Chinese tea. We took as long as we needed and when we were ready I closed my menu. Rigid followed suit. Not long after a waiter came to take down our orders. We were really looking forward to this. The diner wasn’t spectacular, and you could see it was run down; it was perfect. We probably waited 20-30 minutes before we saw the waiter again, but one by one the dishes were laid on the table. House Special Chow Fun (that’s a three ingredients rice noodle dish), Shrimp Fried Frice, BBQ Pork Ribs & Bean Sprout Duck. Okay, there were like 3 pieced of duck in the bean sprout dish, but it was so good. We scarfed down our food, slurped down our noodles and attacked our ribs with glee. Rigid had also ordered a nice Chinese beer. Life was grand. When we were finished we went for a walk around the street to enjoy the cornucopia of Chinese wares. Our bellies were so full of food we never thought we’d walk it off, but we did. I took plenty of pictures along the way though I had to battle against Rigid’s hand the entire time. I could scarcely take one picture after another because he wouldn’t let me go for more than two seconds at a time. In fact he was so far up my ass I thought he’d start humping me right then and there. No wait… he did. AND grabbed my ass all over Chinatown in front of all those old….Chinese people. It was silly, but we had such a really great time.

We went home spent and still full. Eventually I went to my room to play some more Hitman 2 while he played Morrowind in the living room. The night wore on and we decided to spend time together and watch the series premier of The 4400. By this time we were hungry again of course and decided to have the left over Chinese food we had left in the trunk of the car while traipsing around town. No, we took it out of the car when we got home, but we did forget to refrigerate it. We didn’t care; after all Chinese food is great cold right? ONLY if refrigerated because the next day we both woke up with a pretty good case of the shitters. Will I do it again? Hells yes!! The diarrhea was worth it though my anus doth protest.

Above Picture Translation: The Diarrhea is very dangerous. Give your child insulin orally.

StreetWars

This is insane! People running around the city with waterguns as assasins. Sounds like a great idea to me. A dangerous idea but great.

At the moment they'll be holding en event in London. The Los Angeles even has already taken place, but I'm hopeing they'll be back again this year. If not we'll have to wait until next year. I'm definatly going to want to participate in this I just don't know how I'll egt in if they're only accepting 125 people per tournament. They'll accept bribes, but what would make for a good bribe? Money is not an option....

Check it out!

StreetWars: A 3 week long, 24/7, watergun assassination tournament - NYC, Vancouver, Vienna, San Francisco

Pink Ephelants on Parade

There are no inhibitions when your drinking and this is something that for the first time in my life scared the living shit out of me this Sunday. It started off innocently enough. Pumpo and his girl invited us over for a BBQ with her Italian family. This was so much fun. We had a few dishes I’d never tried before and it was really good. Cat’s families were really nice and, although I was extremely nervous hanging out with them at first, they made Rigid and I feel very welcome. They are after all my ex-husbands new family and you never know how people will react and this is always something I’m very aware of. Cat’s dad also brought some of his homemade wine for us to try and we polished off a bottle during our early dinner.

Little by little as the lazy day waned on the family started to slowly pile out and our friends slowly piled in. Eventually the sun went down and people were eating all over again. I, on the other hand, was not…no I was busing myself with Uncle Lilo’s infamous super duper strong-kick-your-mother-fucking ass wine and eventually stepped up to my Jack and Coke but I’d been drinking since around 3 pm and still didn’t have much of a buzz. This is only because I was seriously nursing that wine. I’ve heard stories about people who are brave enough to drink it and I have respect damn it. Rigid was only drinking beer and earlier had a couple glasses of wine. Nothing major, but for some reason the later it got the more insane he became. He started goading people on into drinking vodka shots and here’s the stupid thing. I opened my big fat mouth and told everyone I still wasn’t drunk because I was full from our earlier meal still and suddenly a vodka shot appeared before me. A shot poured by my husband in fact. Well slap me in the ass and call my mommy. I drank that shot after Rigid and friends gulped down theirs. The faces they all made gave me the willies. I wasn’t looking forward to that bitter dry taste in my mouth. The kind that makes you want to spew your drink all over the floor. I drank it of course and showed no signs of its effect on my face, which of course got a nice borage of testosterone filled praises.

Feeling quite full of myself I began to look for the hair on my chest, which was met by another shot and several loud cheers. Still I was pretending to be demure and refused to take a full shot each time… That is until I started not to taste the vodka, which really doesn’t take quite long at all. Before I knew it Rigid was pouring shot after shot to all of us. I’m sure I poured a few for myself as well and in the end probably had about 4-6 shots. Rigid is sure he had at least 6 shots and we’ve no idea how many everyone else had. So let’s do a count. I had approximately 6-8 glasses of Uncle Lilo’s infamous super duper strong-kick-your-mother-fucking ass wine, about 4-6 vodka shots and at the very least 4 Jack and Cokes between 3pm and midnight. A long time ago that really wouldn’t have been very much, but things are a little different now. Now things moan and groan that could have taken much more abuse. Now my belly rumbles with the mixture of wine, vodka and whiskey. Now I know better than to mix drinks for the horrifying fear that I’ll end up embarrassing myself and spewing my guts up all over myself, my friends and their belongings so I try my best to be very careful and very rarely get drunk… Like UBER drunk.

You’d think a strong healthy 25 year old wouldn’t quite have that problem, but I always did have a knack for going the distance damn it! Rigid, the poor thing drank so much that when he was ready for bed threw up all over the toilet. But I was there with him the entire time. I gave him plenty of water to drink to aid in the process. A trick I learned after many sick drunkards threw up uncontrollably all over my house. ALL OVER. There was vomit on my bed, in my friend’s hair, behind the toilet, in the sink, on the couch, on the carpet, on my shoes and in my bathtub…. Don’t forget the kitchen. Yes, I’ve had people do it all over my house, but I learned that a nice big glass of water would help you spew your guts out so you get everything pretty much out all at once. It’s painful, but I’ve had to do it and it works. Unfortunately the glass I had on hand was quite small so I had to keep running back and forth from sick Rigid to the kitchen sink. He wasn’t drunk enough not to notice that I was giving him tap water either which didn’t help. So each time I’d come back I had to re-convince him to drink the water. That took up a lot of time. You always want to get a drunk to ingest very large quantities of water even if they’re full. They’re going to spew it all up anyway, better to do it with a little lubrication.

Well, I stayed with him until I was pretty sure there was nothing else lurking around in his tummy and put him to bed. I went back outside and continued drinking with everyone else. I’d even come to check in on him once in a while. I did catch him out of bed once but other than that there were no other incidences… That I could remember. It was at this point that things got very fuzzy for me, but there’s something I could not forget. I was WAY too friendly with Pumpo’s old friend and he was too friendly right back. When I’m drunk everyone is my friend and friends… I’ll usually hang all over. Guys, girls they’re all the same to me. But this was a little different. It wasn’t the usual ‘I’ll just use you as a leaning post ‘cause I’m to drunk to stand on my own’ kind of thing. I think at one point we were practically holding hands, but I didn’t care. All my cares were completely beyond my reach. There was nothing that could possibly bother me anymore. I didn’t care about anything at all. I didn’t care that if my husband came outside and saw me he would be mad at me or that if anything at all happened with this man it would mean the total and complete end of my marriage. I could fucking care less. Although I was glad that Pumpo never really left us alone. In fact no matter what happened or what we were doing he never left us alone for more than a few seconds… I think. Fuzz sucks.

I do however remember Cat telling us that Rigid got up again and barfed all over the bathroom and showed me where. I was appalled and cleaned it up as much as I could. We found a nice big chunk of something on the toilet and a whole mess of chunks all over the door and the carpet just outside her bathroom. I was dying. My poor Rigid hacked out his left lung all over the place. It was like he fucking exploded into the bathroom with projectile vomit but instead of heading into the toilet in a stream burst out of his face as though there had been a giant fan in front of him redirecting his vomit everywhere but there. I was wracked with guilt. There I was farting around when he needed me. I never even knew because I hadn’t checked in on him again in a while. Well I cleaned up the door and checked in on him again. Made sure he was nice and tucked away and gave him a kiss on the forehead and for some stupid reason went back outside while Pumpo cleaned the carpet. This time Cat didn’t leave us alone though. Eventually we were all hanging around outside until Pumpo put Cat to bed and we were finally alone.

Nothing happened of course. We were just outside looking at the stars arm in arm on the back steps. I could have sworn I saw two falling stars at exactly the same time just, but it could be that my eyes crossed at just that moment. We must have looked like a lumpy mass too… Like fat lumpy Siamese twins. Pumpo was back out in a jiffy though and we were all chatting away for what seemed like hours. Eventually I laid down on the cold concrete step and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew the guys were waking me up and laughing at me. Apparently I snore when I’m drunk. They held me up and I clumsily tried to put one drunken foot in front of the other. My knees didn’t seem to be doing their job though so I’m very glad they were there to hold me up. The last big embarrassing moment was when Pumpo tried to lie me down on the sofa bed. I put my hand down on the mattress to support myself and my hand went straight through to the floor and I went head first into his crotch. Thank GOD he has such quick reflexes because he jumped back so fast my head nearly hit the floor. He caught me before I did, but by then I was so embarrassed I just crawled under the covers.

Things get really fuzzy at this point, but for some reason I remember running into Cat in the bathroom. Why I wasn’t wearing any pants is beyond me so I ran back to the bathroom and hoped that No one could see my undies in the dark, put my pants back on and hid under the covers until I knocked out. The next day I woke up to find Rigid watching me while I slept. I smiled at him like I do every morning when suddenly all those bits and pieces screamed their way back into my still drunk skull. The words “Oh my god.” came out of my mouth quite frequently. I told him everything of course and I fully expected him to have words with John and probably threaten to leave me, but he didn’t which made me feel even worse. When Pumpo woke up I asked him if he realized how drunk I was and asked him why he didn’t pull me aside to tell me I was being inappropriate. He said yeah, he knew I was really drunk but that I seemed to still be in control. Said John tried to get fresh a couple of times, but that I’d sock him if he got too close. I cannot for the life of me remember that, but I was so happy I nearly cried right then and there. Still I could tell by his behavior with me that morning that he wasn’t too happy with me. Pumpo yelled at me a couple of times and really hurt my feelings, but I know I deserved it.

He made us all a really great breakfast. It’s really funny to see a grown man in an apron in the kitchen making your breakfast after a night of binge drinking. It’s almost surreal. The food was so good though and the coffee and juice really hit the spot, but I was so hung over I really needed some painkillers. After a while John took Rigid and I out for lunch and there was absolutely no tension for which I was very glad. In fact Rigid seemed completely at ease and they chatted about anything and everything back and forth. We had such a good time. Probably one of the best holidays I’ve had in a long time, but I was glad to be going home. I started to talk about it with Rigid again and broke down into tears. I really am disgusted with my behavior and it really freaked me out that I could be that way. You see I’ve never actually had to worry about anything like that before. In my past nothing ever happened that Pumpo and I didn’t want to happen. There were no inhibitions to worry about ever. Of ‘course we were always careful and never did anything if without one another’s consent, but my life is so much different from all of that now. It’s just me and Rigid… nothing and no one else. Maybe the fact that I really do have something to fear really scared the crap out of me when I didn’t have any fear whatsoever. It simply did not exist and in the morning when it all came flooding back it really left me unsettled. I love my husband so much that I can feel my heart about to burst when I see him each and every time. I love him so much that when he hurts me or makes me angry I want to tear my hair out to show him how much he’s truly hurting me. I want to make myself bleed so he can see the physical effect he’s having on me. I can’t imagine doing something that would compromise my marriage so I don’t quite understand my behavior.

I think what’s made it worse for me is that he blames himself for it. I don’t understand that. I don’t know what to call it. I’m completely baffled. I can tell you that if the tables were turned I wouldn’t feel quite the same. I wouldn’t blame myself for someone else’s misbehavior. I prefer to take full responsibility for my actions and expect the same from someone else especially my partner. Still I feel really good about myself in having told him right away and how we handled it afterwards. Now we know… I’m a fucking slut and must be watched at all times or not drink so much. Wait, we already knew I was a slut. I just have to work on the not drinking so much because it seems that I could go from slut to whore in an instant.

Big Fat Dork

My Husband is suffering from a 'damned if you do and damned if you don't so why bother' philosophy. How the fuck are we supposed to move forward this way? If you go into a situation with the idea that no matter what you do it won't be the right thing TOO do then why the hell be in a relationship in the first place? I'm sick of the fighting. Let me tell you something. If I actually took the time to write down EVERYTHING I would have written a book by now. In fact... I just may yet do that. I mean what are you supposed to do when your wife is suffering from depression? Read a book? Learn all you can about the subject? Why? What for when all it seems to be is a self indulgence right? He hasn't figured it out yet... I didn't want to tell him. He calls it my scary time and he still doesn't know I'm already there. I'd laugh if I weren't so pissed off right now. I feel fragmented... A side effect of the scary hormones.

Today was pretty much no different from any other day. I mean I'm pretty much still getting over the fight we had the other day about setting up my computer back at home (which I did myself the next day by the way). I think the crying was getting on his last nerve. I really wish I could record him. I mean I'm a freakin' mess, which goes without saying, but his reaction to me is just hilarious in retrospect. Can you imagine a 6'4" 220 lb man completely incapable of reasoning confronted with an unreasonably hormonal female? What's a poor boy to do but yell and scream at her until she stops crying! Insult her intelligence and maturity level until she stops crying! Relentlessly ask her over and over again WHY SHE WON'T STOP CRYING until she stops crying to damn near smack you in the face!!! Well I got over that, sort of, and so we'll move on to today's argument.

I'm bitchy. It's the 11th of May. This means that 10 to 14 days from now I'll be back to normal again, but why does it feel like I haven't really had a break? Depression. And this time it's taking me down every single day hormonal or not. So what do you do with a depressed AND bitchy female? Piss her off every minute of the day with stupid questions like, "Can you write down on a post it to remember to tape John Doe on Fridays?" while I'm at work... 'cause there are post it's at work you know. Or, "Can you remember to do my laundry because I have no underwear Hooha?" when I JUST walked into the house after work. HE HAS A CELL PHONE... why can't he set a reminder on his phone to tape his program? He's got plenty of underwear to wear... ANYWAY WHY CAN'T HE DO HIS OWN LAUNDRY? Okay, so maybe that's fucked up, but I'M BITCHY. I want to be left alone. That and does he think this house gets clean by itself? What pisses me off is that I know he does that because he doesn't want to have to do it himself. Did I ever mention that he's just as lazy as me? If I don't constantly pick up after ourselves and bitch at him to pick up after himself we'll be knee deep in shit in a single day. I'm not joking.

Then because he works 10, 12, 14, 15 hrs a day on any given day he thinks he can get away with not picking up the house at all. In fact he thinks it's okay to leave a stinking pile of CAT SHIT sitting next to the trashcan on the floor in a plastic bag for, let's see, about 4 FUCKING DAYS. Oh yes, I counted. The day he did the litter box I told him to make sure he took it out and not throw it in the trash can like he'll usually do. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why when I'd come home after work my house stank like someone’s asshole. So I went out and bought myself all sorts of cleaning products, carpet deodorizers, a GIANT Airwick battery powered automatic air freshener and the Oxyclean Pet Stain Remover. Keep in mind that I'm allergic to all this shit. That and another gigantic litter box and this fancy schmancy new litter called CitraMaxFresh. It claims that it's 100% natural, you'll never have to scoop your box again, it's good for up to one month and your guaranteed to have less tracking. I've tried so many different litters it's not even funny, but I have to say that this litter has proven to be the best. It smells funky, but orangey... plus like dirt. It's strange. When we bought it Rigid was like, "Look honey, it says 'No scooping necessary'. We'll never have to scoop the poop out! That's great!” I was like, "Your out of your fucking mind. Of COURSE we have to scoop the poop out you dork!"

So, despite his wishful thinking he still has to scoop. We share that responsibility, but I have to be honest. He shares it more than me... and I'm grateful but is it possible not to leave the poo in the trashcan? When I finally caught him doing that I went ape shit. No wonder I was feeling so sick in the house! No wonder it stank so bad. Makes me want to vomit just thinking about it. Well he promised he'd take it out from then on. He was doing well up until 4 days ago. I had to remind him today that there's been a pile of shit lying next to the trashcan since the last time he cleaned the box. I actually hadn't noticed it cause it didn't smell in the house. That litter actually does work. It dries the poo faster so it doesn't stink and has bits of dried orange peels and other crap. It's like potpourri litter!

Basically the minute he gets home I'm already complaining about something he's done wrong. Despite the ups and downs of the day though I was in a fairly good mood so I let it slide. I gave him that, "Uh huh...you better throw that poo away mister." kind of look and then we went out for a few groceries. It wasn't long before we got into a fight on the way to the store. I can't even remember what it was about anymore. All I know is I told him to be quiet... he must have been shitting in his pants, but he actually shut up. So we went shopping...all bitchy like. There I was grabbing some meat and sandwich stuff. That was all we needed for the next few days but he wanted toothpaste. Oh my god! What an ass!!! We can barely rub two nickels together right now and only have enough money for a few days worth of food. There's enough toothpaste to last a couple more days and though I know we really need some I still freak the hell out when he throws toothpaste into the shopping cart. I'm not sure if we'll have enough money, but we need toothpaste. I know he's right yet I find myself arguing with him about it. As if I actually intended not to buy the toothpaste. WHY? I don't know, but I grabbed a packet of pork meat and shoved it in his stomach to take back so I could buy the toothpaste. WHYYYYYYYY???

I don't know why. I was furious though. My face got all hot and my body started to tremble. My heart was racing and suddenly I really wanted a god damned cigarette! I haven't smoked for 5 days. I ignore this impulse of course. I'll smoke when I damn well please is what I say! So we go home and when we get there I go straight to bed. I don't help with the groceries by splitting the meat into packets for the freezer so I won't have a giant frozen brick of chicken to defrost. I don't put his laundry into the wash. I don't even make dinner. Straight to bed because I feel like I might just about kill him then and there if I so much as turn and look at him. I know that's not his fault. I KNOW that's all about me being bitchy, hormonal, depressed. But I don't care! I know I need to be left alone and I'll get over myself eventually. I'm of course starving, but refusing to talk to Rigid at this point and proceed to completely shut him out. This is so frustrating to him that he simply doesn't know what to do with himself so he mutters and mumbles all sorts of things while he's getting his own laundry together. He asks me what I want for dinner, he does this in the hopes that I'll get up and make it of course, and proceeds to mumble, "Fine, don't eat then see if I care." out the door because I've ignored him again. I nearly laughed, but my face was buried in the pillow and I think I was about to swallow my tongue out of sheer anger so... I didn't.

I woke up about 2 hours later and ravenous. I felt better though. I felt lighter and like the mood swing had passed. I just needed a little nap. Rigid was just getting into bed though and I asked him what he made for dinner. I thought he was coming in to spend time with me, but no. He was going to sleep. He said he couldn’t make dinner see... because he was doing the laundry.

Cue the music for you favorite horror flick here. Psycho works well for me.

"You couldn't make dinner because you were doing laundry?????" I ask. "You're telling me you couldn't make dinner because you were doing laundry????" I repeat as if I didn't ask the first time. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He proceeds to explain that he did the laundry and fell asleep on the couch because he works so hard and was tired. That he had to make himself two WHOLE sandwiches, brush his teeth then come to bed at 10 pm even though he usually won't go to bed until 11 pm!!! WTFF? I got up called him a fucking moron on the way out of the bedroom, cooked a piece of meat, threw it in a tortilla then washed it down with a little Coke. I couldn't even taste the food. I was pissed off at myself for calling him names. I hate that. He doesn't do that to me... as often.

After I ate I sat there pissed off as hell and trying to figure out how I could get him to understand why I was upset THIS time around. I went back into the bedroom and started off by telling him that I'm depressed. I did already have this conversation with him last week, but I figured it couldn't hurt to refresh his memory. He apologized. Why is he apologizing because I'm depressed? It's starting to become an automatic response to anything he does now... this is annoying me greatly, but I ignore it. I begin to tell him that although it was a good idea to leave me alone and let me chill for a while he still should have been considerate enough to take the time to put the groceries away properly, make something to eat and at the very least not leave a mess in the living room for me to pick up the next day. At least show me some consideration. Let me know that you care about me and that you’re actually trying to do something to cheer me up a little. Show me that you’re not just ignoring me and hoping I'll just get over whatever it is that's wrong with me.

He apologized. Several times. He got up and picked up the mess in the living room and we continued our discussion there. Well, that's never really a good thing either. Sometimes I really do wonder why I'm trying so hard because all I got from him was he's damned if he does and he's damned if he doesn't. I asked him why he couldn't have the forethought to cook something to eat to try to cheer me up, put the food away properly... pick up your mess or clean the dishes in the sink. I mean there was like two glasses and a plate that's all, but I would have noticed. He apologized again and said he was sorry that he works so many hours and couldn't have had the forethought to be more considerate because he was so tired. That's right. Be sarcastic with the queen of sarcasm you dumb ass!

Again we continued out discussion and sometimes he actually made a little sense – like when I called him immature in regards to never having had a girlfriend for longer than a year as though THAT’S why were having so many problems now. He wasn’t with anyone long enough to be broken in. He had a good come back for that. Apparently seeing his friend get cheated on while away in the military was enough of a deterrent to stay away from women, other than to fuck of course, throughout his 5 year military career. So when he finally gave in and got a girlfriend (his first ever) he felt validated in his argument to me that he’s not actually immature because he was proven right in the end see. She cheated while he was away so, THAT’S why he’s never had a girlfriend. THAT’S why all he did was have sex and get drunk since he was 16… and before then as well. He was afraid of being cheated on. He was taking preemptive steps towards preventing a broken heart…*cough* bullshit!

It’s BULLSHIT! Don’t fall for it. First of all he started having sex very early on. This makes him a slut in my book. Being the severe slut that he was he hopped around from girl to girl, always using a condom of course, because he never wanted to be tied down. He never wanted a girlfriend and was happiest on his own. Not to mention the fact that his career in the military was sporadic at best. Yes, he went to Afghanistan and to Iraq, but the tours where for a few months at a time not years. And although I can certainly understand why he wouldn’t honestly want a girlfriend while he was in the military what stopped him from having one while he wasn’t in? There was a good long time in between tours which left him at home working as a bouncer in Blackpool.

None of that really matters. It’s not his fault that he’s landed with a looney depressed girl and doesn’t know how to be caring enough to handle it. Not many people do, but it baffles me that basic common sense eludes him so. I woke up this morning hoping that I could get through my day without another fight. I’ve had about 3 ½ hrs of sleep now. I wrote most of this last night around 1 am. There I am yanking a pair of cold semi wet pants off the door they were hanging on to dry when I noticed something. The load he did yesterday only had his clothes in it. None of mine except the pants and only because they were already in the washer. I knew in my gut when I woke up that I’d find that to be the case, but I hoped I’d be wrong. I wasn’t and I was disappointed. Pettiness against someone suffering from depression seems a little overkill doesn’t it? Then to deny said pettiness is just obnoxious of you isn’t it? Like to deny that you were trying to be petty at all is going to make me see that your not one of the biggest buttholes I’ve ever known. Friggin’ Dork!

Above image borrowed from the Wacky Packages Wesbite