I've discovered an allergy

First let me say that I am sorry for being MIA. Leave it to me to start a blog and then disappear (Ninjas do that you know, they're good at the fast coming and going) with no explanation.

However, there IS an explanation, and I've somewhat outdone myself in terms of excuses if you ask me. (And why, why doesn't anyone ever ask me my opinion of how I have done at these sorts of things?)

During the last 4 months I have been adjusting to, and treating a shocking and very unexpected allergy that has developed which has led to constant sleep, puking, gabillions of trips to the bathroom, and mood swings which make it both unsafe and better for everyone if I didn't write document my thoughts and feelings.

The doctors are calling it "Pregnancy" and have given me prognosis of 9 months to look forward to the symptoms before being miraculously cured through a quite painful but certainly successful procedure that someone so honestly nick named "Labor and delivery". (Delivery of what at this point I am not sure, I would like to think a tiny little ninja baby but I'm starting to get the feeling this is more of a rogue spawn with some sort of sadist tendancies.)

As I have officially been put on something called "Bedrest" (Which by the way is neither restful, nor relaxing and is actually a fuck of a lot of work) I hope to have more time to blog and a lot more to complain about.


In the meantime my days consist of really bad televisions and a slew of appointments with various specialists and other degree holders who claim to be 'treating me' while actually torturing me and collecting my bodily fluids for God only knows what.

So I have officially started answering the question "Any known allergies" with "This Baby".

No one is ever as amused as I am.

A smile is worth a thousand words..

Most people who know me would say that I am nice (albeit it could be because they fear me due to my crazyness, because I pay them to, or because they have known me long enough to know I really do love all things fluffy, cute, small, or breathing). They would also say that I care very little of what others think. (Just ask Mr. Ninja, who only just tonight at Kroger asked me to please stop 'cooling' myself over the meat section because people around us didn't know we had just finished 2 1/2 miles and were comparing me to the fat woman who was hanging out at the shrimp cooler while chatting on her cell phone.)

However- there is a certain amount of resentment that comes with what I can only describe as forced niceness due to political correctness, or the fear of someone thinking I am a complete douche solely based on my facial expressions, thereby causing me to compile the following list, (which despite my best effort I was unable to give neither a short or simple title to).

So, I give you:
The top ten scenarios that make me feel obligated to smile, which almost immediately make me want to kick someone.

1. Ugly babies, for fear of appearing to be a bitch.
2. Black and white couples, for fear of appearing racist.
3. Fat people, for fear of being judgemental.
4. Disabled, crippled, or handicap people, for fear of appearing insenstive.
5. Old people, for fear of appearing disrespectful.
6. Poor people, for fear of appearing snobby.
7. Overly attractive girls, for fearing of appearing jealous.
9. Overly attractive men, for fear of appearing insecure.
10.Crazy people, for fear of appearing to be their next victim.


Besides the feeling of incredible lameness that follows these unnatural smiles (Not because I wouldn't smile at these people, but because I feel obligated to smile at these people so as not to offend them) the following occurs..


When the normal folks walk by and offer me a smile I am just too smiled out to even bother, hoping they will understand... And then I spend the rest of the night wondering why the fuck they smiled at me in the first place and which of the above 10 they lumped me in with.

Why there is at least one person happy I am not a ninja, yet.

Mr. Ninja is an amazing man.

The key word to that sentence really being man. This of course means through complete fault of his own, but very often without any intention at all, he says or does things which if I were already a Ninja probably would have been met with great pains of unimaginable kind. But because I am not a ninja (yet) I find other ways to seek revenge, ways which I accredit to being a woman, and a passive aggressive expert.

I have fine tuned my skills to be the envy of all slightly annoyed women everywhere. Focusing and training in the art of "YoucantproveIdidthatonpurpose doe".

Examples include: Stealing the good pillows, hiding his toothbrush, shaving my legs with the razor he uses on his face, drinking the last of the diet coke before leaving the house, hiding the toilet paper supply when I go to work, losing the batteries to various remotes and controllers in the house, losing the remotes and controllers themselves, and I'm not ashamed to admit that sometimes- I kick him. (When I'm really mad I even wait till he's awake to do it.)

What you ask would make someone do these things?


The Reasons I want to stab love Mr. Ninja


1. While walking through the mall Mr. Ninja lovingly and encouragingly informs me that should I lose a little more weight I may soon be able to start buying clothes at Lane Bryant.

(For those of you who don't know that is a plus sized woman's store- of which I have NEVER been big enough to shop at. Mr. Ninja swears he has no idea, but sometimes I wonder if he's getting back at me for pointing out that he must have recently improved his diet and calcium intake- judging by the impressively thick and fast growing hair springing up in his ears..)

2. In noticing and commenting on other women in my presence I am extremely lucky to have such a considerate man. Mr. Ninja has only two situations with women in which he finds it necessary, or perhaps helpful- to share his opinion of other women with me. I suspect it is because he is afraid that without his verablization I may otherwise not notice the following:

A. Her boobs are bigger than yours.
B. Her butt is smaller than yours.

(Please note these are not interchangeable. He will forgo all commentary if the above mentioned are opposite and I have the bigger breasts, or the smaller butt. He also pays absolutely zero attention whatsoever to women who are my equal to my size in either area.)


3. Mr. Ninja gives me credit where none is due. He thinks I can do the impossible, and will defy common sense and geography to try to atribute powerful things to me. For instance- no matter where we are, what we are doing or who else is around- if there is a foul odor Mr. Ninja immediately turns to me and says "Did you do that?" or "Is that you?".

(This has happened outside of chicken farms, next to homeless people, while changing poopy baby diapers, every single time we drive over road kill, if there is a skunk within a 20 mile radius, and my favorite- when we both know full well it was HIM- he will still make a point of asking me out loud (Especially if there are others around) if it was me.

**You would think I was exaggerating here, so I find it necessary to tell you that once after doing a quick enter/exit of the mens room Walmart in which there was some sort of bad odor, Mr Ninja scrunches up his face in disgust, nearly pukes in his mouth, walks the 30 or so feet to where I am standing near a check out- and asks if it was me.....)

4. Mr. Ninja wants to make sure I sleep comfortably. I am reminded of this every night when I climb into bed, close my eyes, and almost fall asleep. This is when Mr. Ninja decides it's time to make sure I can sleep comfortably. (Time is irrelevant, I've tested it- 8, 9, 10 at night- 3 in the morning, it doesn't matter.) He does this by turning on the light, telling me I have to get up out of the bed immediately, throwing all of the blankets and pillows on to the floor and 'fixing the sheet'.

(Please note that 'fixing the sheet' ONLY works if your wife/girlfriend is physically in the bed, eyes closed, almost asleep. So like Mr. Ninja you must ignore ALL requests to 'fix the sheet' before she gets into the bed. Please give her a chance to settle comfortably in the bed and just begin to relax before begining the process or your success is not guranteed. Also note that it is extremely important that you do this on days which she has been especially busy, tired, sick, or stressed.)

5. Mr. Ninja believes that love makes anything better.

Some examples include;

a. Telling me while in the shower together, in a sexually tense set of moments, that he could never shave my thighs because they are kind of lumpy.
but don't worry, he still loves me.

b. Pointing out that the single life was amazing and how much he missed it...
but but but he loves me. (<--- the but but but came I assume when he realized who he was talking to and what he had actually just said)

e. Casually mentioning that had he not been such a douchebag he'd have married his ex-girlfriend and be living a completely differently life, assumingly better...
.. but I should be glad he didn't, cause he loves me.


6. Mr. Ninja never forgets the little things. He may forget every big holiday that comes around, including anniversaries, birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas- but he never ever forgets the little things. Examples?

a. That I have exactly 3 moles that 'wiggle' and are almost reason enough for him to have me put down in 23 states, and the exact location of each, capable of dodging them at light speed.

b. That I casually mentioned that I would massage his feet 3 months ago on a Tuesday but he decided to go out with his friends instead, so I still owe him.

c. Any item during the previous year to which I said "You can buy that when we get the tax return".

d. How long it has been since I made him his favorite meal and the reason he hasn't liked every meal before, or after that one.

e. The names of girls he slept with before me. (He cannot compile a list of said girls because there are too many to name and number, however he can- after meeting a girl and hearing her name- quickly, and without any solicication on my part, tell me if he slept with a girl by that name, how hot/bad/good she was. He then follows up with a polite 'moment of silence' for said girl in which I can only imagine he is paying respect and remembering the action as he gazes with nastolgic towards the unknown.)


It is because of these things, and so so many more that I remind myself daily how lucky I am to not have been driven buckfuck nuts in a crazy house by this man to have him, and am not sure what I would do with the extra money I would save on medicationwithout him.

Now if you'll excuse me I think I'm sitting on his sunglasses, again.

The day I got my ass kicked by a shrimp, literally.

I went to dinner last night with my family at Olive Garden and enjoyed what I thought was an amazing meal, that is until about 20 minutes after finishing it. Even then it took me a few minutes to realize that I was actually going to die from food poisoning, knowledge which hit me as I laid on the bathroom floor of my favorite Old Navy.

Days- maybe months later a worker came in because they were closing, and presumably she wanted to go home. Unfortunate for her I couldnt be bothered with things like pride, or grace, or even common politeness. I simply muttered something about hell, sabotage, and revenge and rolled over. She left. It was probably a very smart thing to do.

As miserable as I was, I was actually learning a very valuable lesson. Much like Superman and his kryptonite, I too have a weakness which can, even in the tiniest of doses, destroy me. Sure, his comes in the form of an element from another planet and mine is the much less mysterious and probably more common type otherwise refered to as; bad seafood, but it's same same same. Just one more bit of proof that Superman and I are indeed peas in a pod.

Soon after leaving Old Navy, (Not by choice) and the luxuries of it's restrooms, I yelled for Mr. Ninja to pull over at the mall, I was in desperate need of a facility, or a loaded gun, and the mall promised to produce one, or both.

An hour later I was once again becoming familiar with the cold tile of a retail store, this time with a little mix-it-up of in the form of a 4 year old giving play by plays on my cell phone (Which she stole and was taking great joy in holding just out of my reach) to whomever it was she called from my address book. "Oh, she can't talk, she's throwing up. No, I can't bring her the phone she's laying down on the floor. No, she says she's not okay, she's dying and hates us all, but especially you."

It all gets hazy from there but I must have gotten a stomach transplant because this morning seems somewhat better. At least to say I'm no longer begging someone to hit me with a bus or cursing my mother for giving birth to me, and I have managed to avoid coming into inappropriate contact with a retail establishment's bathroom floor for at least the last 8 hours.

However..

I may need some sort of twitter intervention because while laying there, with life flashing before my eyes, trying to get all of my estate and final arrangements planned in my head- I actually took the time to #followfriday someone early, just in case I didn't make it.

Me too bud, me too

It's 2:00 AM when I look at the clock in the car- I've been driving for hours but I'm still no closer to wherever it is I'm going, I'm certainly no farther from wherever it is I was before, and if I'm running from something it's still there, somewhere in the dark, waiting.

I can't help but notice him at the stoplight. It's our 10th meeting of the night, the street lights and traffic signals give only a glimpse of the man sitting behind the wheel, but somehow I feel like we are bonding in the darkness amidst the miles we are racking up.

I wonder if the expression on his face and his midnight escapade is one of remembering, or forgetting. I wonder if the songs playing on his radio are as haunting as mine, or if he has tried to turn around and go home as many times as I have- only to realize it's pointless, it's more lonely there than here.

I wonder where it is he'd rather be.
I wonder where it is I'd rather be, too.

I drive for another hour almost before my own epiphany- the tragedy of all of this is that I don't know if I want to remember, or want to forget. And no matter how many circles I drive in, or how many stops at all night gas stations for caffeine, my heart and my head will just not compromise.


It's late, everything is fuzzy and I have nothing to lose so I call. I can't blame it on drunk dialing- but I figure being sleep deprived is close enough.

I need to know. I need to know if right this minute he's somewhere trying to remember, or forget. I need to know if everything meant anything. I need to know if I am crazy or if maybe we are sharing a moment- I need to know..

When he answers I can tell he's been sleeping.

I suddenly remember that I hated that about him. He could sleep no matter what.

I want to scream at him to get the fuck out of my head, that I deserve better. I want him to believe me. I want to convince us both. I want to cry and ask him how he can be sleeping. I want to ask him why it doesn't hurt him too.

But I don't.

I hang up, I drive home, and I lay on the couch.

I remind myself that no matter what it feels like- I will eventually sleep, and the sun will come out, and life will keep going on. I'll remember things I'd like to forget, and forget some things I try so hard to remember.

And on and on and on the days go.

The day Bozo got confused for Superman

Looking back I find it sad that I can recall the exact moment I knew I would out grow him, that my life would go on without him in it, and if I were being honest- that it would be significantly better someday. Eventually I would all but forget him in a vague cloud of people I used to know and recalled from time to time.

We had been shopping for something at the mall, the radio was playing on the drive back to his apartment and I found myself trying to tune out the songs that came and went because the last thing I needed was a musical reminder of a moment like this. No one wants to hear a song three or thirty years later and think of someone they don't love anymore.

It's not that he did anything wrong, it's more that he didn't do anything right. Fickle as it makes me- it just turned out he wasn't who I thought he was, but to be fair- he wasn't who he thought he was either. He was just.. empty. He was this giant black hole of ..himself. He had the potential to be great, which made it almost pathetic when he fell short time and time again, and I was tired of watching him suffer and tired of being sad for him.

He was on some sort of sinking ship and staring out the window that day at nothing and everything all at once -I realized that for a long time he had been using me to stay afloat and he hadn't even noticed that I was starting to sink too. He would have let me drown, he would have let me slip away without a second thought due to apathy and incurable disregard for anything or anyone other than himself.

The years we spent together flashed quickly before my eyes.

I was dancing in the park at midnight, eating ramen noodles from a shared bowl on the couch, watching the barges at the lake, making love in 100 degree weather in the back of his car, standing at a carnival wondering what our children would look like, floating and falling.. in love.

And then... I wasn't.

I was standing on a street corner in a city I hadn't visited for years, waiting to cross a street I used to take to work, when I saw him. At first I wasn't sure it was him, he looked nothing like I remembered, and even worse than I had imagined he would.

He looked lonely. Not the kind of lonely you get when you don't have friends or family, or when you've been sitting in your apartment for days without seeing anyone. No, it was the kind of lonely you get when you've spent your entire life pretending to be someone you are not, living in a world of lies and betrayal, unfaithfulness. It was the look of lonely that could only be worn by someone who had known more than one great love, or at least they had known him, but lost them by doing nothing at all, precisely nothing- except taking them for granted, or taking advantage, just taking..always taking.

He looked sad. Not just depressed, but pathetic, which in itself is could be depressing. He stood there waiting for the light to change, a sign that he could go- though it was obvious he had no idea where he was going, and probably was still unaware of how or why he ended up where he was.

We stood for a few moments, he on his corner, and me on mine. Only a few feet separated us- but we were lifetimes apart. He was a stranger now, and it broke my heart to see him through the eyes of someone who didn't love him, (at least not anymore). He was clumsy, uncertain, and insecure and all of the things that once made him great were gone now, either because I was no longer imagining them, or he was no longer pretending them. Either way I was embarrassed, if he were truly an emperor- I saw now that he had no clothes.

The light changed...and I walked. I had places to go, someone to be.. And as our eyes met and he noticed me for the first time I gave him a small smile- the kind you give out of guilt or pity. The uncomfortable kind that is somehow supposed to make up for the fact that once upon a time you both had the same chance to be happy and you had seized it and ran and lived, and loved, and gone on and on.. and for all the temporary satisfactions they would find in life; a drink, a drug, an affair, a moment or two to get lost in- they would always wake up and want for so much more than they had, or settle for so much more than they could have had.

Thinking back to him while I literally and figuratively went on with my life, it occurred to me;

...Once upon a time I thought behind the mask and costume he wore was a superhero waiting to emerge. Now I saw him as I had been too blind to see him before.

And still,
Of all the people I'll ever forget, I did love him the most.

I'm the same in any language...

For those of you who don't know- I am studying Arabic. It's a surprise for Mr. Ninja. On my list of things he would probably prefer that I do (Right under: Stop storing extra fat like we are bears about to face an ice age, and right above: Stop punching him in his sleep <--- this one is a secret!) is become more 'worldly'.

The world however turns out to be a very large place full of people who don't speak English and aren't nearly as interested in my becoming worldly as I am. The internet on the other hand is full of people who are not above amusing themselves at my expense and can quite easily be talked into all sorts of messes. The most important of these turns out to be teaching Arabic over the computer to someone like me. Someone who apparently thinks shock is comical and prefers her jokes dryer than the hole they test tampons in.. (Note: I was just assuming they test them, it's not as if I've ever had a part time job doing this, or got paid to be a part of some clinical trial, they probably use crash test dummys or something... Note to self: Research this, immediately.)

Anyway, today my tutor (Who is Arabic, obviously) let me pick my own phrases to get the proper pronunciation of this week after having learned all the obligatory "I don't speak your language but I'm going to pretend I do" phrases, and while running off a long list that I had been struggling with, I threw in "Everybody listen up, I've got a bomb!!!!"...


Haha.

Best awkward silence ever.