How To Get A Restraining Order

1. Go to district court.


2. Ask clerk for RO.


3. Insist that you want to get the RO there and not in family court.


4. Leave after being told to wait an hour then get a temp RO at the police station.*


5. Go home; feel defeated; give up.


6. Talk to friend, who insists you go the next day.


7. Go to the district court.


8. Ask same clerk for RO.


9. After searching entire court house, tell clerk that you cannot find the woman's advocate person.


10. Explain that you looked everywhere.


11. Insist that you want to get the RO there and not in family court.


12. Explain that that is where your lawyer told you to go.


13. Fill out paperwork after winning the argument.


14. Give paperwork to clerk, go into court room.


15. Sit. Sit. Sit.


16. Listen to some assault case for an hour.


17. Go up to the bench when called.


18. Explain to judge why you need a RO.


19. Explain that you are fearful despite the fact that he has never been violent.


20. Explain that he is unpredictable and a drug addict.


21. Correct him when the judge jokes that he must be coming to see his son, that is why he is showing up unexpectedly at your house.


22. Just before you start crying, take signed paperwork from the judge.


23. Go home, feel harrassed.


24. Go back 14 days later.


25. After sitting in court for two hours, find out that he wasn't served so you'll have to come back.


26. One week later, go to police because he violated RO.


27. Have the police serve him the RO over the phone.


28. Return to court in one week.


29. Have court tell you that he wasn't served.


30. Go to same clerk and explain that the police served him a week ago.


31. Go to police station after the clerk says that the police do not know what you are talking about.


32. Speak to same police officer that the clerk did, listen to her explain that she told the clerk that he was served.


33. Go back to clerk with paperwork from police.


34. Go back to court.


35. Get one year RO.


36. Write a letter to the chief justice explaining the difficulty you had in getting RO.


37. Read reponse from chief justice basically calling you a liar.
38. Anxiously wait one year until you have to go back to get it renewed.

*Police ROs are only good until court opens the next day at which time you have to return to the court to get a two week one.

Through The Looking Glass

I am laying in a hotel room watching my red sox lose. This is not where I was supposed to be tonight. I was supposed to be camping. But then I wouldn't be able to tell you about this place right now.

I feel like I am in a different world. One in which I was familiar with once in my life, but have become detached from. I am in North Conway, NH. I am in an area of the country where they don't bother paving driveways or parking lots or roads. A place where you can park right downtown for free - not a single meter to be seen. And it is 2 hour parking! For free! And speaking of parking - don't stress about parallel parking. There is no need for that around here.

Cell phone service is pretty spotty. Forget about the Internet (Ive finally got it working after trying for hours). But, its almost a blessing. I don't have to check my voicemail. And when I do, I get all my messages at once. Call back? Sorry, no service!

It is so pretty out here. Ill post pics later. I love mountains. It is so peaceful. I didn't hear a single car alarm at all last night.

As we were driving around, I kept seeing things that reminded me of my childhood. That "Welcome to Conway" sign? I remember pulling over in front of it so that my dad could go into the cooler in the trunk to get us all drinks. That store Joe Jones with the jingle that we used to sing along to. Headlines where my friend bought her first bowl. That chocolate store that I knew had German candy because it was a "Haus."

Its actually been a pretty stressful trip so far. There is some family stuff going on and I was supposed to be camping, but I am not. The people I was supposed to meet couldn't come, so I figured it wouldn't be safe on my own. I was really quite upset. I am lonely at home. Now I am lonely in the middle of the wilderness.

But right now, laying in this hotel room, with my babe, it is perfect.

Dear Girl From High School

Dear Girl From High School,

I accepted your friend request on facebook because I was mildly interested in what you have been up to. You found out you were pregnant and I was very excited for you. I really didn't need to see all of those pictures you took of yourself in the bathroom mirror though.

After you had the baby is what I really want to talk to you about.

I am sure that your baby-daddy is a piece of scum. (Actually I remember disliking him in high school.) But, you really don't need to air your drama on your status updates every. single. day. Seriously. There is really no need to go on. and on. and on. and on about how he is nothing and you are so strong and he is missing out and you rock and your baby doesn't need him.

The other day I did the math. You must have gotten pregnant the same month you started dating this fella. Now, I'm not trying to judge anyone, but, maybe you shouldn't be completely shocked when the relationship doesn't work out. Just saying.

I know that it is difficult to go to court and fight for custody. I have totally been there. But, I don't completely understand why you are so angry about baby-daddy wanting three months a year with her. Do you realize that that is only 25% of her life? That leaves you with 75%. And I believe you said "Over my dead body." A bit dramatic, no? I wish my ex wanted anything to do with our son.

Finally, there is no need to go on. and on. and on. and on about your new beau. Yes, it is great that he is a doctor. And owns a home on the beach. And has a nice car. And owns a boat. Yes, it is nice that he took you sailing around the cape. I really don't need to read every detail on your status updates every day. You only broke up with baby-daddy two months ago. Isn't a bit soon to call this new beau her father?

I'm not trying to judge (really) I just don't want to read about it every. single. day.

Thanks in advance.

Story Time

Let me tell you a story. This story is about a woman. This woman got into a car accident. This car accident was caused by the other driver. This woman was seriously injured. She was in serious pain. She was uninsured.

The way that insurance companies work is her insurance (theoretically) would pay her bills. Then her insurance company would go after the other driver's insurance company for reimbursement. Because she was uninsured, she could not afford the treatments. She went to physical therapy as long as she could, but it is expensive. What she really needed was surgery. Surgery may have alleviated the pain that she will now feel for the rest of her life.

She sued, but lawyers, too, are expensive. The lawyer finally told her to settle. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. The settlement was not enough for the surgery.

Let me tell you another story. This story is about a man and a woman. The man is employed by a hospital. This hospital gives its employees good insurance, as hospitals do. The woman got cancer. The man's insurance covered some of the bills. It did not cover enough. The woman is currently fighting cancer. Both are fighting to keep their house.

Here is another. This story is about a boy. This boy is only 19, but has been away from home for several years now. This boy does not have a job. This boy gets some assistance for health care through the state. This assistance does not cover dental work. This boy has immense pain in his mouth. It is more affordable for this boy to wait until the pain is completely unbearable so he has to go to the emergency department than if he went to the dentist. The assistance will help pay for the emergency visit. This boy must wait until it is a medical emergency before he can get help.

Okay. One more. This is about a woman. This woman had some knee pain. She has insurance and goes to her primary care physician who refers her to a specialist. The specialist says that she needs a MRI. He cannot order one, though, until an xray is done. The specialist knows that the xray will show nothing, but must order it because the insurance company will not pay for the MRI until an xray is done.

The xray is done. The MRI is done. The specialist tells the woman to get a prescription knee brace and go to physical therapy 2 - 3 times a week. This woman cannot afford to go 2 - 3 times a week. She cannot afford to go once a week. This woman goes every other week for six months. One of the underlying problems, they find out, is that this woman has flat feet. With the proper shoe inserts, this can be fixed. Then she would not have to go to the physical therapy. The insurance company does not cover any of the costs of the inserts. The insurance would, however, continue to cover the p.t. indefinitely. They would rather spend hundreds of dollars a month on p.t. than a couple of hundred dollars up front.

I could tell you more stories and I am sure that you could tell me thousands of similar stories. These are the reasons for health insurance reform. These people are the reasons for health insurance reform.

People claim that the quality of their health care will go down. First I ask: Is your care really that good? Second I beg these people to listen to these stories. Listen to the people who are getting screwed by the insurance companies or who are uninsured. Listen to your family, friends, and neighbors. I am sure that each person will hear stories similar to mine. Finally I ask that these people to listen to what these bills in congress are actually saying. Not just what they are told that they say by uninformed sources.

Okay, I am coming down from my soapbox for the night. I just believe in this so passionately. It always saddens me when the people who would benefit from change the most are the same who oppose it. For instance, the poor southern states. These lower class people who were being screwed by the republicans, are also their biggest supporters.

The last story, btw, was mine.

Happy but not Giddy

Writer's Workshop time! Is this week flying or what?? It is brought to us by the lovely Mama Kat.

My prompt choice this week is #3 What are YOU giddy about? (Do I always choose #3? I'm gonna have to check....)

Okay, to start, I don't get giddy. I just don't think it is in my emotional vocabulary. I'm not hating on people who do, I just don't. Anyways... I decided to take some inspiration from Rachel and make a happiness list.

1. The anniversary party is over! We threw a party for my parent's 30th and it was a MAJOR source of stress in my life. And thanks to this

2. My lost appetite has been found! Hello? Appetite? Where are you? Oh! There you are! Behind the party stress!

3. My son likes to use chopsticks!

4. I attended a great seminar today! Normally I don't understand find it boring. But today it was really interesting. It was about detecting Alzheimer's early by shining a laser in some one's eyes. Wicked cool!

5. I am going on vacation next week! I haven't had a week off in too long. We're gonna visit my friend from college that I haven't seen in something like 5 years. We are also going to Story Land! Heck yes. Then we are going camping.. I am sure that will be an adventure.

6. My girlfriend is having a party in a week! I will hopefully have fun and perhaps meet some new people.

7. My ipod has new music! The joys of computer ownership.

8. I love my bloggers! Seriously. I really enjoy reading every one's blogs.

That is all for now. I think eight is a really good number.

*sigh*

Oh, btw, have you played my game yet??

I Hate Driving

Usually I am a master parallel parker. Really. My mom once thought that I must have picked the car up and put it in the space, it was so impressive. (I did not, btw, in case you thought I may have super powers.)

I pulled up to a spot outside of our library and was distracted by something shiny (?) and did a sub par park job. This big ol' box truck parked in front of me. As I was walking by his window he says to me "Don't you have like five feet back there?" Referring, of course, to my car being too far from the one behind it. I stared at him for a few seconds, ran through my options (flip him off, walk away, move the car) and said "I'll move it." He thanked me.

I moved the car back a few feet and was walking across the street and he says to me "You still have space back there?" And I yelled back "It's pretty fucking close."

In retrospect, he may have meant: You still have space to get your car out later? I hope I did not box it into the spot, ma'am.

Not: You still have space to move your goddamn car back? Move the f'ing car before I slam it with my huge truck. Biatch.

I assumed the latter, but perhaps it was the former. One of us was a jerk. I am kinda hoping it was me, that I misunderstood him. I will never know.

Theme: Spontaneity

Here's a fun game. I found it at Mommy is in the Bathroom.

It is called Three Truths and a Lie. Like the name suggests, you write three truths and one lie about yourself, then you, my loyal readers, get to guess which one is false! Sound fun? Lets go!

1. I traded in my perfectly good car one day because I saw one I liked better on TV.

2. We decided to get married on a Thursday and were married that Saturday.

3. I went to Montreal one New Year's Eve without any planning, a hotel, or even a map.

4. I was driving around Denver one day, and saw a sign for Salt Lake City, so we went, not realizing how far it was.

Okay, now it's your turn! GO!

Tuesday Again??

Its Tuesday again! Can you believe it?? How long can I continue with all of this awkwardness? Its actually a bit disturbing that I can continue to think of awkward stories...

Anyways here is this week's story and here is this week's hostess, Tova Darling!

Before I was married, my future ex-husband wanted to have Easter at our apartment. We invited both of our families. It was the first time that they had really met.

His whole family was in the living room. Grandma, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, the works. I walk into the living room and his grandmother pats my stomach and tells me that it looks like I had gained some weight. Then started laughing. I wanted to die. I mumbled something about switching birth control (like that was non-awkward information to share!) and how it made me gain some weight.

Then I ran away.

Reason 376 Why It Sucks To Be A Single Mom

There is no one to shield Ryder from my breakdowns.

Now, I am not saying for one second that it would be better to still be with my ex. Obviously an occasional breakdown on my part is far preferable to being neglected by his father.

With that said, I feel bad for Ryder when I have these attacks. I get anxiety attacks. Yesterday we threw an anniversary party for my parents (more on that later) and I was so stressed. Before the party even began, I was done. D. O. N. E. I could not handle it any more. Ryder took his open water bottle and was going to drop it in the cooler. I told him not to. He did anyways, of course, and I tweaked out. I grabbed the water bottle and threw it and yelled. He was crying because I yelled and because now he didn't have any water. I felt like shit.

Today, we are both exhausted from all of this weekend's excitement. I went out and got some Thai food and put on a movie. We never eat in the living room. Not because it is clean, I just really believe in eating meals at the table. But, I thought we'd just relax in front of the TV today. Well, guess what happened. He spilled sticky sauce all over the place. Then, when I went to get a towel, he took his saucy fingers and turned off my laptop - while some things were downloading. Then he spilt the OJ. Omigod. I started screaming. Actually my throat hurt a bit from it. I put him in his room so that I could calm down. I felt like shit.

Ugg.

I know that there are way worse things that could happen then me yelling and throwing a water bottle or two. I know that if I was still with the ex, then there would be 5000% more yelling and throwing. I know that having someone else here doesn't necessarily mean that he would be sheltered from anything. I know that I am still a good mom. I know all of this, but I still feel shitty about it.

More Love From My Loves

Yay! Fancy Shmancy gave me an award! She rocks! Here's the rules:

“The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared!

First, the recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

Second, the recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.

Third, those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given with this award.

Those 10 bloggers that receive this award should link back to the blog that awarded them “The Honest Scrap’ award.

Here are my self evident truths:

1. I LOVE dictionary.com, I really am not sure if I would be able to write a single blog without it.

2. I am an avid recycler. We always made fun of my mom growing up because she made us recycle everything. Now, I am exactly the same. Scary...

3. I love to knit. I've knitted a bunch of stuffed animals and monsters, maybe I'll share them with you sometime.

4. I am a music snob. Seriously. I know what is good - and you probably don't ;)

5. I have a very hard time believing people when I am wrong and they are right. (See above)

6. I can relate most events in my life to a Spongebob episode. I am not sure if this is because I have watched way too much Spongebob or if it is because Spongebob is so relatable.

7. I am really good at math. I hate math. With a passion. It is truly a wasted talent. I got one math question wrong on my SATs and I was pissed. I found it hard to believe that I only got a 790. (See #5)

8. I left my heart in Denver. I loved it there. *sigh*

9. Have you heard No Sunshine by Death Cab For Cutie? I totally relate. I used to be optimistic, but somewhere that changed. Now I am a die-hard pessimist.

10. I have no plans to further my career. People ask when I am gonna go to school and for what and I just tell them that I have no plans. It is unheard of in my line of work. Everyone goes on to med school, or vet school, or some master or PHD program. Not me, I am content.

Okay, now the ridiculously hard part. Seriously, most of the blogs I read already have this distinguished award. But lets try:

Claire @ Beak Tweets

Ginny @ When the rain just won't seem to go away

Katie @ rooftop melodies

Liz @ Just getting through life

Naomi @ Surviving Single Motherhood

Rachel @ and if it's a hero that you want...

Okay, I know that is only 6. Do I have to give the award back? Can I come back and tag more people later? Does this blog have to stay in my drafts until the proper number is attained?? Can I give it to people who already have it just to satisfy my personal needs?

Well, I am posting it as is. If you have a problem, see #5.

Writer's Workshop: Shitty Neighbors

Welcome to this week's Writer's Workshop hosted by Mama Kat. To play along, just pick one of the prompts, write about it then link back to Mama Kat's blog and sign Mr. Linky. It's easy!

The prompt I chose is: 2. Describe a situation that forced you to confront a neighbor.

Here's some quick background. My parents bought their house 20 years ago from Ann. The next door neighbors (there's only one set, the other side is woods) were good friends with Ann and didn't like that my parents changed some things around the house. So, basically, they were always jerks. When the ball went over the fence into their yard we were always so scared to get it - you know the type. Oh, and the only thing separating the two houses is their driveway.

Jump forward 15 or so years. My parents decide to put in a fence and decide to do it themselves. Of course we all pitch in to help.

Have you ever put in a fence? How about in the rockiest soil ever? You have to dig a hole about six inches deep. It needs to be fairly straight. Anyways, this is not a how-to, my point is that we were all tired, irritated, sore, and pissed off at the damn rocks.

We start putting in the fence piece that abuts the neighbor's driveway. We are on their driveway and we are digging holes, boss, digging holes. The old bag who lives next door comes out screaming. "Get off of my driveway! Get that dirt off of my driveway!" My dad yells something like "Are you serious?" The old bag just keeps screaming about us and the dirt.

My dad says to us "Lets just get this stuff off the driveway. We will do it from the other side." He starts cleaning it up. Unacceptable. They were not trying to leave, we were not in their way, we were not causing any harm to their precious driveway, we were just trying to put in the stupid fence.

I start yelling back at her. "What a bitch! Its just a little bit of dirt! Don't worry, we'll clean it up when we are done. Can you believe this? Stop being such a bitch!"

My dad, as furious as he was, was trying to calm me down and get everything off of the driveway as quick as possible. I seriously wanted to punch her in the face! If my dad wasn't there I just may had.

Gosh, still pisses me off!

Comments Enabled!!

Thanks Fancy for telling me that my comments weren't working.  I was wondering why I wasn't getting any love!

Thanks to bloggerbuster its been fixed.

Awkward Ribbon Game

Are you throwing a baby shower? Let me give you a piece of advice: Do not play the ribbon game.

How to play: Get a roll of ribbon. Pass the roll around to all of the party goers and tell them to cut off a piece of ribbon that will go around the largest part of the mother-to-be's belly. The person who gets the closest wins some gay prize.

I am sure that you see where this is going.

They played this game at my baby shower. They passed the roll around and the ribbon ran out before it left the first table. These people thought my belly was so large that they used all of the ribbon. My belly was large, but, shit.

So, the people who actually got some ribbon started trying to measure it around me. The ribbon was so big, some almost went around twice! Twice! This made me feel real shitty. Like I wasn't feeling like a whale to begin with. Thanks family and friends for making my baby shower totally awkward.

Need more awkwardness for your Tuesday fill? Visit our hostess, Tova Darling, she is totally awkward! :D

The Gift of Fear: Really?

Cover of The Gift of Fear

Someone recommended that I read The Gift of Fear, so I got it from the library.

First of all, it reminds me of the times that I was scared. That's crappy. I don't want to remember the times that I was scared. I know, I know, you learn from the situations, blah, blah, blah. I just don't wanna.

The main topic of the book is trusting your instincts. If you feel like something is wrong, trust yourself and leave the situation, or whatever you need to do. One thing he brings up are stereotypes. He says it is okay to feel like you are stereotyping, sometimes there is a good reason.

I hate stereotypes. I actually get annoyed at people who fit stereotypes. Like that boy in high school that everyone said was gay, but he insisted he wasn't. Then you find out a year later that he is. That bums me out. I wish those high school jerks were wrong. Which brings me to my story.

I was at the train station and there was a large group of loud teenagers waiting for the train. It is the 7:30am train, so it is usually very quiet and I sleep. I was not going to get on the same car as these kids. I got on a different car, then went to the very end and somehow they still ended up sitting next to me. The two that sat next to me were African-American boys.

I get a monthly pass for the train. I put it up on the seat in front of me, so that the conductor can see it. When these boys sat down, my first thought was "I've got to grab that pass back before they steal it." My second thought was "Don't be an idiot. Don't stereotype these boys. Leave the damn pass." Two minutes later, the boy next to me takes the pass.

Fuck.

Still I am trying to think "Maybe he just wants to see it." He looks at it. He shows his boy. Then he tries to hide it. So, I elbow him and ask for it back. He says "Oh, it's yours?" Of fucking course. Damn kids. Way to fit the stereotype.

So, perhaps the author is right. Trust your instincts, even when it seems silly.

Tall Ships and a Tired Baby

All week I have been obsessed with seeing the tall ships. I dont know why because I see them all the time. I walk by the USS Constitution every day on my way to work and I live almost within sight of the Friendship. Whatever, they still rock.


The first thing that I have to say is that Boston's Harbor Walk was not intended to accommodate 5 trillion people. Some of it was one-way and I felt bad for the people traveling north. Until I saw that some of it was not accessible by a ramp, which meant that my stroller, Ryder and I were not going that way either.

Some people are so inconsiderate of strollers, too. Granted my stroller is kinda big, but that isn't the point.

It was a beautiful day to be at the harbor. It was sunny, hot, and a little windy which cooled us off at just the right times. I think I got a nice tan, as well.

This was all courtesy of Sail Boston:

We began in the North End and worked our way south, ending at the World Trade Center in Southie. Yes, it was a long walk.

The first ship we saw was the Europa:

So awesome!! At this spot there was also a floating Blues Barge. It was this blues band playing on a barge. Seriously. There was too many people to stop for a picture, unfortunately.

Next we went over to Fan Pier where there were a bunch of schooners.

I heard someone saying that this flag was in WWII or something. I don't know if I believe it though. Just because its old doesn't mean that it was in a war... What would a schooner be doing in a war?? I am certainly no expert on boats, though.

More schooners.

By this time I was absolutely dying of thirst. I could not go a moment longer. I assumed that there would be vendors along the harbor, but there were not. None. So, when we got to the Institute of Contemporary Art, we went in. We stood in line at the ICA cafe for 35 minutes. There was only one person at the register so we waited. And waited. And waited. Tons of people left, but I was too thirsty to go anywhere.

Ryder was very cranky about standing in one place for 35 minutes and I wasn't in a joyful mood either. Actually, I was pretty bitchy. All I wanted was some water, but after we waited for so long, I figured I had to buy some more to make the whole thing worth it. So we bought a smoothie, water, and candied papayas to split. Ryder promptly put a papaya into the water. I was pissed! I drank it anyways.

Finally we made it to the World Trade Center. From a distance it looked like there were a few ships over there. When we got over there we saw that it was just one. One huge ship!

This ship is called Kruzenshtern (don't ask me how to pronounce it!) and is Russian. She is the largest traditional sailing ship in operation. Pretty awesome! That is the WTC behind her, by the way, for a bit of scale.

We didn't get any closer to that ship. I could feel the awesomeness from across the canal. So, it was back north for us. Ryder fell asleep in the stroller and I found some guy selling water quite close to where we were. Without a line. C'est la vie.

That brings us full circle back to the Europa. Everyone and their mother took this picture. Some of them are standing in mine.

Writer's Workshop: Paranoia

This weeks writer's workshop really got me thinking. I was very tempted to go with number 3: Describe a difficult moment that you survived. Man, I can think of loads. But, I decided that my blog is quite a downer, so I needed to choose something else. Something that doesnt make me sound so crazy. So I chose number 5: What are you paranoid about?

I am quite certain that the United States Postal Service is out to get me.

Stay with me.

When I first moved to Salem, I lived in an apartment building on a one-way road. (All roads around here are one-ways thanks to our fore father's taking city planning ideas from cows.) So, when you came down the street, mine was the first mailbox followed by the other three. Well, the lazy mailman would put everyone's mail in my mailbox. Requiring me to dole it out. It was okay the first 20 times, but then I was annoyed. So, I called and complained.


The postal worker first asked if my name was on the mailbox. I told him it was, along with the number. He then asked me about everyone else's boxes. Do they have their names on theirs? I don't know. Geez. And how is it my problem if they aren't? I assured him that I would check though and make sure the names are on the proper places. I am now the USPS police.

Thats when it started. I am pretty sure that they only delivered my mail occasionally. And more than once, I found my mail days later in places that my mail should not be. Inside doors that we dont use, inside other people's doors, on the grass.

Then I moved to Beverly. I thought I had left the Salem Post Office nonsense behind me. Although I cannot remember any specific instances, I am sure that there was a bit of fishy business there too. I only lived there briefly, then I moved back to Salem.

I know my name is on a black list. They probably have this bulletin board posted with everyone's names who have called to complain. And their addresses, most importantly, their addresses.

Still with me?

When I moved, as I do whenever I move, I filled out the change of address form weeks in advance. I do not want to miss a single piece of junk mail. For the first month that I lived here, I only got mail once in a while. Like two pieces a week. Just enough that I knew that they had indeed changed my address (they had those silly yellow stickers on them), but definately not as much as I should have been getting.

Allow me explain. At this point in my life I was getting alot of mail. I owed alot of people alot of money, so they sent me many nasty letters. Although, I wasn't particularly fond of these letters, I don't want the USPS to keep them from me.

Soon enough I got mail more regularly. I think they waited until my breaking point then decided enough was enough. They would just give me my mail.

Remember the whole put-all-the-mail-in-my-mailbox stunt they had pulled before? They did it again!! Now the arrangement makes this paranoia more real. There are four mailboxes next to the door. Two on the top and two on the bottom. Everyone's names and apartment numbers are clearly labeled. Mine is on the top right. Why would they put everyone's mail in my box?? Either they think that I would make an excellent mail lady or they hate me. I am betting on option 2.

Finally, my last piece of evidence is this: They do not deliver my mail on Saturdays. Everyone else gets mail! And - no - it couldn't be that I don't get mail on Saturdays. What would be the odds that all my mail just happens to fall on a weekday?

I lied. One more piece of evidence: I get the worst mail on Friday evenings, when there is nothing that I can do about it until Monday morning. Okay, so I have no idea how they could possibly figure out which pieces of mail would fit this category, but at this point I rule nothing out.

You agree, right?? You think the USPS is out to get me, too, right? It's big brother trying to keep high intrest rate credit card offers from me. Bastards.

Blog Award!!

Thank you so much, Ebony!! I am so excited to get this award! Now, I get to present it to:

1. Love Letters by Cora

2. Fancy Schmancy

3. Awkward Family Photos

4. and if it's a hero that you want, i can save you


Congratulations! Just copy the pic to your computer, then post it, then pass it on!! Horray!!

Totally Awkward Tuesday!

Heres another edition of TAT hosted by Tova Darling. Now, as I am sure that you are coming to realize, I did alot of stupid things when I was in college. This creates mounds of fodder for TAT!

My freshman year, my roommate, Kate, and I were on a bus. She says "Look, it's that guy!"

I look around the bus and the only other person is this really ugly guy.

Me: "What guy?"

Kate: "The guy from the party?"

Me: "??"

Kate: "The one you left with!"

Ugg. So embarrassing.

Who Am I?

So, Ive been thinking about different things, including my adventures on Thursday. And I was also thinking about the past, which I have yet to share, some of which is not pretty. And I have come to the question: Who am I?

I'm not trying to be transcendentalist or anything. In my first year in college, I just drank and did loads of drugs. Its a bit hazy from there on. Then I met my ex and still did drugs and drank. But I kinda slowed down. I thought it was a natural progression from getting older, wiser, more responsible. Then, I separated from my husband. I turned into a wicked drunk. I drank all the time. I literally walked around with a bottle of Southern Comfort.

Then we got back together and I got it back together. Then he left again (left, kicked out, whatever). But then I had a baby to care for. Then I was Ryder's mom. I had to keep myself together for him. Then Ryder leaves for the night. What do I do? Bar, pot, random guy's car.

Are you noticing the same pattern as I am? And it wasnt really just the other night. I kinda drink alot. I drink when I am lonely, which is usually.

Anyways, what my point is, I don't really know who I am. When I am by myself, I get wasted. Maybe I am overthinking everything. Possibly not.

Thirsty Thursday

It was 8:30 on Thursday night and my parents were just leaving my house. They said "Do you want us to take Ryder?"

"No!"

"Wait. Yes."

That is how I got a babysitter on Thursday night. I was pretty upset for 5 minutes then decided to seize the opportunity. What should i do? Where should I go? It was too late to go anywhere far, and certainly too late for anyone to come over, so I went out solo.

I was going to go to this new bar down the street, but it was pretty packed and a bit preppy. Then, I thought of the Gulu Gulu Cafe. That place is hip. Too hip, it turns out. It was totally packed with hipsters and a guy with a guitar. So I settled on a pub, O'Neill's.

On my sister's advice, I sat at the bar opposed to a table. It was pretty uneventful for the first few rounds. I watched the red sox game from the night before. There was a guy and a girl next to me that needed to just go have sex somewhere. The bartender was amusing. Someone came in asking for Irish car bombs, but he said that they didn't do them. But they do jager bombs. Interesting.

I was on my last drink (so I though) and some guy started chatting with me. We will call him Joe (and for all I can remember, that just may be his real name). Joe was with a bunch of guys, one was having a birthday. They are townies. Born and raised in Salem. I remember Joe telling me that he was like 38. I was surprised, but then I remembered that I am dangerously close to 30. Hummf.

Anyways, these guys bought me another drink. I hung out with them for a while, then they were going to go back to some guy's house to smoke. I was totally in. We left the bar and smoked on the way over to the car.

Side note: I hadn't smoked pot in.... maybe... 5 years? I still puffed like a pro though! Like riding a bike, I suppose.

So we get into the car. (This is where it gets good.) They stop at a drive-thru to get some food. I think I got nauseous and wanted to step out of the car. So, I get out of the car, while they are in the drive-thru. Then I tell them that I am going to go home. They offer me a ride, but I insist that I only live down the street. They feel bad. I leave.

How dumb did I look?!? Jumping out of the car in the middle of the drive-thru? And, I did not live "just down the street". It wasn't wicked far, but over a mile. Maybe two. Pretty far when you are drunk and stoned.

At this point, I made a couple of phone calls. To friends on the west coast. Was I lucid enough to only call people in farther time zones because it was late? And I texted and called my friend Sam. I talked to him for about an hour (or so my phone told me the next day." What could we possibly have been talking about for that long? At 1:30 am? I remember going home and dropping off my stuff then going back out. I remember being on the phone with him and taking laps around the city. Probably not the safest thing, in hindsight.

Did I think I was in college again? So much fun, though. I slept until 1:00 the next day. I really think it was the pot that did me in. I think I'm gonna call Sam today and ask him what we talked about. And why he was up so late. And if I should regret anything I said.

Writer's Workshop

So, I am a day late and a buck short. (Or so the saying goes.) But it is my first so please excuse my tardiness. Here is our gracious host: Mama's Losing It.

The prompt is: 2.) Write five "Incredibly Short Books". Some examples:"Chemical Contraception Choices for Catholic Couples""Teenage U.S. Presidents""The Book of Female Popes""The 2008 Book of General Motors Profits" Dan says, "The point is that the book is of zero size since the title is a contradiction with reality."

"The New England Sunshine Report for June 2009"

"The Pleasant Toll Taker"

"A Guide To On-Time MBTA Buses"

"The Vegan Hunter"

"How To Rock-Out Without An Amp"

Dumbledore's Pensieve

Image via Wikipedia

Sometimes I have so many thoughts flying (my psychiatrist would say "racing") around in my head that I can't concentrate on anything. They just keep spin spin spinning around...

What I could really use is Dumbledore's pensieve. (Harry Potter for you non-nerds out there.)

Seriously. I wish I had a wand that I could just touch to my head and pluck those offending thoughts right out. Then I could deposit them somewhere safe until I had the energy to sort through them.

Until I can get my hands on one, I will have to settle with paper and pencil.

Or a blog.