Tag Archives: friends

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I’ve rejoined the wubbulous world of Facebook.

Over 2 years ago I decided one day that I was sick & tired of people always complaining about the same things, the ridiculous abused children/animals posts, the in-your-face religious memes…just all of it. So I quit. Cold turkey. Which is surprising for me because I have an “addictive” personality & can’t even quit cigarettes cold turkey.

I guess I was just bored & looking for something to do. Usually I’ll play Pet Rescue but when you’re stuck on a level & already in a worried/depressed mood, it isn’t very helpful to take your mind off of things…it’s downright aggravating. It took me a few lots of tries to remember my password but eventually I did. I have to admit, I did miss it somewhat…being connected in some way with people I know & the world in general; I missed seeing the cute/awesome/so true memes; I missed seeing people’s pictures. And I’m already instantaneously re-addicted. It is such a time passer! I feel a little like an idiot liking & commenting on posts & pictures that people probably haven’t thought about it months, but I’m playing catch-up so I guess it’s alright.

Reconnecting with people & extended family has been nice, though. It has made me feel a little less lost, a little less alone (and by alone I mean the 5 of us as a family kind of being on our own, feeling disconnected from family). Of course it sucks when I finally pull myself away & my reality comes back smacking me in the face. And it sucks to see other people’s lives so successful, complete, happy…normal. Not that I begrudge them that, no no no; it just hammers home how upside down my life is right now, which really gets to me if I let it.

I’d like to link my blog to my profile, but lately all I can seem to write about are my troubles (because they’re the main focus right now) & I don’t particularly want all of Facebook knowing all of this. I’m not one of those fakey-fakers who is all “Oh my life is so perfect, I’m so wonderful, ain’t everything great!”; I think there is a difference between purposely portraying something (like an ideal version of your life) & choosing not to actively disclose details. Of the people who have asked “How are you?” I’ve answered them honestly with “Okay” (because technically I am okay…we’re all alive & healthy) & haven’t elaborated with lies or the truth. So, until things work out, I don’t feel comfy linking the two. It’s embarrassing, depressing, unnecessary.

Aside from that, we’re in limbo. Well I don’t guess it’s “we’re” since the kids are unaware of “the housing situation” but all the same…it’s very awkward having an elephant in the room. Despite the fact that all 3 of us are adults & hubs & I are perfectly okay with “adult talks”, it’s hard to know what the right thing to do is…if we should approach him or wait until he approaches us. We have some progress & possible developments in the wings however they require a little time before (hopefully–fingers crossed!) coming full circle. If he’d be willing to work with us & allow us a little more time, I truly feel–with valid reasons–like we’re on the brink of being able to start repairing this mess. Really.

All we need is just a little time.

Meanwhile, take a minute & be grateful for what you do have. If it’s a secure place to lay your head at night…if it’s a best friend to help absorb your troubles…if it’s a fresh taco & glass of homemade lemonade on a hot day…if it’s the ability to go watch fireworks on the 4th…whatever it is, recognize it & be grateful for it.

All of it.

What’s in a name?

I’m such a scatter-brain. I’ve been working on a different post off & on all day (a bitch-fest, as per my usual!) but can’t seem to find my way to the end, so I thought I’d take a break, try a totally different (happier) subject, & use the 40 minutes I have before the rugrats get home.

I’ve noticed lately that A–our youngest & only boy–refers to C & I as “my Dad” or “my Mom” when talking with/to his friends. I find it bittersweet…it’s cute that he’s so ‘mature’ now that he’s the big 6 & doesn’t want to say “mommy” & “daddy” anymore……but it also makes me sad, of course. It’s the same feeling as the other firsts: first day of school, first lost tooth, etc. You automatically want the best for your kids, which in turn means you want them to grow up (not much choice anyway–haha) intelligent & beautiful & to be a good person…but sometimes those little signs of growing up can make ya a lil misty-eyed.

Granted, he still calls me “Mommy” when addressing me/another family member and it’s the same for C and “Daddy”, so I’m glad of that at least. The girls dropped the Y’s a while ago, I knew it would only be a matter of time once A went into school too. Understandable; no one wants to be the “loser” Friend who refers to their parents in a baby-ish way. They still do the Y version at home but I can tell they do it for our benefit. The other night D was telling a story & started to say “Dad” but then stretched it into “Daddy”.

So the question becomes…do you just sit back & let nature take it’s course, let them banish the Y’s for good when they decide to?
Do you put a spotlight on it by telling them it’s okay to drop the Y’s if they want (if you can bring yourself to do it!)?

I’m always fretting over things just like this & it’s partly because I have no one to turn to and ask. My mom is gone & that left a huge hole in my entire life…she was always the one I’d turn to for anything. I don’t talk with my Aunt (Mom’s sister) as much as I used to because I hate being on the phone (can’t hear, too chaotic) & she won’t email with me because she doesn’t like to type (despite the fact that she’s literally on Facebook alllllll day playing games…); anyway…I don’t want to make this post all sad & dreary, I was just clarifying part of why I’m so…indecisive? Unsure of what decision would be best? I like to see as many sides (or opinions) as possible when faced with a decision–no matter how small–because I just like to know the whole of it. You know? I believe some may call that anal….

I don’t remember any sort of conversation with either of my parents about what I called them; I’ve always used “Dad” & “Mom”, and I’m sure probably the Y versions as a baby although I don’t remember it. I also don’t remember my own transition…in ninth grade a passing fad was to call your mom “Mommy” but I didn’t participate long because it felt weird, like I was trying to be something I wasn’t. Sometimes I wish I could’ve used “Mama” off & on (that’s what she called her mom) because I think it’s cutesy & country; and I did occasionally but it never stuck, never became the name.

So…to say something or to not say something…that is the question. I want them to be comfortable, not inadvertently pushed into using a name/names they don’t feel fit anymore simply because they know we like it.

I know, I know………….I’m a basket case. 😉

My Michael Jackson post (years after the fact).


I would imagine it would be the rare person indeed who could claim nowadays to never have at least heard a Michael Jackson song, younger generations not withstanding of course. Almost all of us have had some contact with his genius whether through a movie, the radio, our own personal music collection, television, books/magazines…somewhere along the way we’ve heard or seen the King of Pop. Having recently read the biography about him by J. Randy Taraborrelli I have renewed my (recurring) mini-obsession with MJ. Don’t get me wrong….I’m not a super fan & I don’t claim to know every factoid about him. I just know what I’ve read/seen & have my opinions on it.

Michael’s attitude & actions
I’ve heard & read countless times that Michael was the type of person where if an employee/friend/family member told him “no” or wouldn’t get what he’d requested, they’d simply be “out”. He’d stop associating with them or they’d be fired. People were (apparently, according to the biography I read by Tarraborelli) fearful for their jobs. This is completely understandable & completely believable. Michael was treated-quite literally-like a king; he’d become accustomed to a way of life the majority of us will never live & therefore fail to grasp. He probably hadn’t been told “no” more than 8 times since the age of 5….long, long ago he acquired the luxury of people at his beck & call, staff to cater his whims, “handlers” (for lack of a better group term) to foresee & appease his wants & needs. I can understand the mentality of it all, even if I admittedly can’t fully understand what a life like that must be like (on either side of the fence). People were disposable….and that’s not implying Michael was some hateful, spoiled, crappy person who treated others badly (I’ve heard & read the exact opposite so much I’m beginning to wonder if he had a golden heart)….he was, plain & simple, rich as shit; he was free to do what he wanted; if one person wouldn’t do this or that then fine, this person over here will. That’s what I mean by disposable. There would always be someone, somewhere & he knew it.
The reason I flew off on this tangent is because during my mini-obsession I can’t escape the “what if” plague. What if his family would’ve intervened? After his death, everyones (EVERYONES) excuse is that they knew but couldn’t help MJ because he’d either fire them or kick them out of his life. I think we can all agree that most families will get along as well as have fights, stop speaking, be really mad at each other, all that jazz. However family should & usually does find their way back to each other & make up. I know not all families do that, I realize we don’t live in My Little Ponyville or Smurf-land. But the Jackson’s prior history certainly indicates that if there is a disagreement/fight, after some time passes everyone is welcomed back into the fold, hunky-dory. I can’t help but wonder if family-someone who Michael couldn’t get rid off & would eventually make up with-would have succeeded….if they would’ve just pushed & pushed until he went to rehab, then fought & fought to keep him there Do whatever it took. Michael would’ve been mad & resisted, I’m sure….but maybe-just maybe-he’d still be here today.

Michael, circa 1989

Michael’s appearance
Personally I think the time frame he looked his best was the last couple years of the 80’s. He was just starting his “King-ship” and getting a taste of financial freedom & making his own choices. He had a small amount of plastic surgery & turned out like the photo above. If he would’ve only felt confident enough to stay like that! Instead he had to keep pushing & tweaking, trying to achieve a certain look he had set in his mind. Unfortunately he ended up like this….

Michael's mugshot, date unknown/after the 90's

…which isn’t even the worst photo but definitely one of the creepier ones. I hate that he felt so insecure in himself that he literally turned himself into this. To be on top of the world financially, career-wise, health wise….yet to feel so badly about yourself that you reduce yourself to an unrecognizable shell. It’s sad, very very sad. Unbeknownst to him, by starting the surgery obsession he opened the flood gates for people & the media to start running their mouth. Then he probably felt the need to continue the surgeries, in a futile attempt to be normal again; all it ended up accomplishing was more negativity.

Michael & molestation

Michael Jackson & Jordie Chandler

Where to begin with this Pandora’s box? What is there to say–in support of either side–that hasn’t been said a zillion times before? That being considered, I’ll just stick with my personal opinion as opposed to trying to exonerate (or condemn) MJ. Nothing I say will convince anyone anyway, I don’t think…they’d have to research & read & discover just like I did in order to be convinced. For years I have been undecided as to whether or not all of the abuse allegations against him were true…now, after extensive reading, various sources and a better (aka adult) perspective on life, I can safely say that I don’t believe he molested anyone, anytime. It seems quite obvious to me that the Arvizo’s were after money: plain & simple. The Chandler situation seems to be the same way, although it seems like a bigger betrayal because they were much closer than the Arvizo’s. It would take a whole other post to specify each point so I won’t drag that up here. I think Michael was an easy target because he was lonely, insecure, had a soft spot for children (& animals, as many of us non-serial killer people do), was eccentric & rich…very…very rich. The media & the accusers picked up on these traits (though not in that order) and exploited them as long as they could. Today, Jordie Chandler enjoys his millions while living in a penthouse & apparently having a wonderful time shopping with friends…

Jordie Chandler today; spending his "hard earned" millions with a buddy.

I’m sure the Arvizo’s are also enjoying a largely enhanced lifestyle due to their “hard earned” millions as well. The truth is we will never know the truth. Even if MJ were here today & proclaimed his innocence (like he did before, yes) people wouldn’t believe him. There will always be a divide on this topic because there is no definitive, 100% proof either way. Instances such as this really gnaw at me because I want a firm, fact-backed answer, you know? It all comes down to what you believe & what you don’t believe. I used to lump him in with the majority of the media & society, but after my research I now understand all the different levels of this situation, and of Michael Jackson. I pity the poor man. This may be overdramatic but I truly wish I could rewind time for him & magically fix all the bad in his life….it just seems so unfair, once you absorb all the details (the same details from different sources-that’s what lends credibility to them), that he suffered as he did in so many ways.

Michael, 1988 Bad Tour, London

R.I.P. Michael Jackson.

In concert during the glory days.

The joys of being a drunk 14 year old.

I’ve been inspired by juicy gossip a family mishap to post a blog on underage drinking.  Recently my niece (who blatantly cares nothing for me, or my immediate family, which as a side note is really sad because I truly enjoyed having a niece a few years ago-more family drama except on my husband’s side-and I miss having that in my life) was discovered to have some empty bottles of cheapo vodka hidden in what I’m sure she thought were strategic places in her room.  She also had a shot glass handily wrapped in her “delicates” drawer.

I’m not going to expand on all the different issues involved in this situation;  no, this post is designed more for the selfish reason of recording a few of my own teenage memories for the annals of history, just in case I ever become a smidgen as historically famous as Marie Antoinette (for instance) and the historians will need something to come back to and assist them with piecing together my daily life.  Hey, it could happen.

So my sister was telling me all the juicy details about this mishap (she is her step-mom by the way, so that compounds everything for both of them) & I started thinking later on about when I was this girl’s age (…the edge of seventeen) & actually earlier.  I had collected shot glasses & had them on display around my room.  I had 1 or 2 empty booze bottles just to round out the coolness factor, and a wine bottle with one of those drippy candles in it.  I hadn’t drank the alcoholic contents & I didn’t use the shot glasses.  Literally…decoration.
My room was decorated in this fashion for quite awhile, until I grew out of it. 

See?? I still do display them.

Then I started remembering one of my ballsiest schemes ever.  You have to know that I was not a very rebellious kid…at all.  I’m the first born/oldest so I understood it was my duty to go to school, stay out of trouble, get good grades, be a good example for my younger sister.  But I guess every kid has a little bit of rebel in them, and mine was to concoct a fabulous plan where my friends, boyfriend and I skipped school & stayed home drinking Budweiser all day.  I know, I know but hellfire…I was 14!  This was exciting shit.  So I kicked it off by convincing my mom I was too terribly sick for school.  Win!  She let me stay home, no questions asked because I was such a cunty goody two shoes good kid.  Then I called my friend, who was with her older boyfriend (aka the beer buyer) & I’m fuzzy on the details now but after my mom left for work everyone was supposed to meet at my place.  (I can’t remember if the beer buyer was just going to blatantly park in the driveway or across the street at the little kids school…probably the driveway)

Everyone came & it was time for phase 2 of the great plan-no celebrating yet!  Next we all had to call the school for each other to excuse our absences;  beat the school at their own game…before they could call our parents to see where we were, we’d provide them the answer!  Very common practice for kids missing school.  I don’t remember who did what (beer guy of course didn’t need anyone to call for him; might I just point out how questionable I’m finding this person nowadays looking back, that he so easily went along with a bunch of 14 year olds?!) but I did call & pretend to be my boyfriend’s grandma (his mom wasn’t around; I realize now it would’ve been better to have creepy beer guy be his dad)…the school totally bought it!  We were home free!  Able to lounge in my room, sip our Buds like kings & queens, & relive our success; my bf had brought along his dorky friend who was making us all laugh.  I assured my friends that my trusty canine would bark at the slightest notion of someone pulling in the driveway or opening the front door.

Yes, a whole book bag full. Leather book bag might I add.

So imagine the mild heart pounding heart attack I experienced when there was beating on my locked bedroom door.  Imagine the frozen looks of shock & bewilderment & “What the fucking hell do we do now?!” all over our faces.  Then chaos.  It didn’t sound like my mom but that was the only person it could be, right?  The dorky friend literally jumped into my closet & was peering out from between my clothes;  the rest of us started throwing the beers in a book bag then shoved them in the closet with him & closed the door.  Meanwhile my mom has started bellowing at me to open the G.D. door, so at least it confirmed it wasn’t an ax murderer who liked drunk teenagers.  Eventually I opened the door;  boy was she pissed.  White hot rage would best describe it.  She started threatening to throw creepy beer guy in jail so he hauled ass…I never…ever…saw him again.  My friend was a little sad but she ended up being a lesbian anyway so it probably didn’t matter much.  Then my mom announced to us that she would be taking us to school as we were.  Drunk.

On the way to school she revealed how it had all gone down: when I called as a grandmother, the nosy bitch office lady didn’t think the voice sounded old enough.  So she checked the absentee log & saw where my (real) mom had called in for me.  Apparently the school staff was stalking us because she then claimed she knew we were dating & thought something was fishy so she called my mom at work, filling her in on the whole thing.  Mom snuck home, didn’t shut her car door (she parked right outside my room by the way…I’m such a deaf idiot), & the dog betrayed me by greeting her when she came in, which I hadn’t considered, and therefore staying quiet.  So we get to the school & those ass clowns had called the cops!  To give us fucking breathalyzers.  Just to get us in trouble with the school too.  We all failed & then the Principal informed us that we were suspended in, like, 3 different ways…2 days out, varying days in.  Then for some reason we were told to go tell all of the teachers whose classes we were supposed to be in at the time.  I think that was just for the adults entertainment.  Either way it backfired because it gave us all the opportunity to show our friends that we really were drunk, therefore lending credibility to the rumors that would fly.  I have to admit that being able to brag that I came to school drunk & got a breathalyzer & then suspended did give me a little bit of a bad ass quality.  Then I went back home & probably fought with my mom for awhile before passing out.

So that’s my first real drinking story.  Unfortunately I can’t remember what my parents did to punish me, and my mom isn’t here to help me out.  Back then I never thought it would be a cherished memory…I felt like my life was over.  But I can only smile now, and be glad it’s part of my memory lane.  Do you have any stories from being a teenager??