Monday, August 26, 2013

50 things I have learned on my redneck sand dune vacation.

1) I can wear a handkerchief head ware/band and look really good.  (No mirrors out in the dunes, I can only assume how cool I really looked).

2) In redneck country rolling your short sleeves up to your shoulders is not cool.  (Unless you have your smokes in there).

3) Big dogs rule.  (small dogs are okay too but guys laugh at guys with them and guys with them, remark before the guys laugh at them).

4) The words "One Way" don't mean the same to everyone in redneck town. (and I have a very loud voice according to one child).

5) You can find organic, great deli and cheeses in redneck town grocers.  Then you find the f-in booze and it goes from $2 to $200 wine, to adult Slurpee's in a bag!!!!, to Grey Goose vodka!!!!. To which a redneck mutters "would you like grey poupon with that" under their breath when you get excited.  The only reply is (sounds like) "ma' wee, sa va bien, douche bag".

6) Even though Target is half an hour away, your 12 year old would prefer that drive with her IPhone playing games but only if you turn your music down and don't sing.

7) Threatening play fighting with your 12 year old in Target can get you applause at one end of the store, "I will beat you, I swear it, you kids today are too soft" *and takes bow*,  and a manager giving you the "I don't approve of your parenting skills" at the other end.  (I would like all to note, she pinched me first!). 

8) The whooo haaaw needs NO microderm abrasion.  Like, not ever!  (note: you cannot drive the dunes and not get sand, "there" and then trying to remove it in the shower cannot be done gently, it just can't).  This is a SOLID LESSON to all.

9) Dog eats sand, dog poops sand.

10) Wife spends money on shoes she will never wear because "do I look fat in these jeans?" seems easier in good shoes.  Husband buys new truck, new sled deck and new toy solely to make the other boys jealous.  It works too.  You could see peacock feathers from atop a 200 foot dune. (I admit it, my fast toy, the one I approved, makes me the cool chick out there too.)

11) My brothers a bit of a chicken shit.  (You must not let off the gas atop 200 foot dune, just keep going).  Or stop and get stuck.  Exactly like he did.  And quickly learned this girl don' dig, for nuthin'.

12) If I can make this shit hole redneck cottage rental into a home, this bitch can do anything!

13) I can cook like MacGuyver.  Give me tinfoil, a potato, and roadkill and gourmet is ON!  I am so fitting in.

14) Wearing a "DARWIN - "needs to take it up a notch" tshirt in redneck country gets a lot of confused faces and I love that ironic shit.  I live for it.

15) Doing a 20 foot high jump in a 4 wheel dune buggy sport thingy does not a happy spine make. 

16) A surprise 20 foot jump at the top of a 200 foot dune will make you scream so loud you actually pull a throat muscle. 

17) Your BFF showing you up by doing a 30 foot jump right behind you will make you laugh so hard you pee.  And she, will not only pee, but pull the same throat muscles screaming too.

18) Saying, "you know you aren't a kid anymore" one day may cause your BFF to take a flying header off a four wheeler the next day when she is trying to prove you wrong. I WIN!

Thumbs up = I am alive, I can't see straight, but I feel my limbs.

19) Kids cheat at cards.  No correct that, kids cheat at all games.  But, if there's two of them, they cannot get away with it.  Hysterical giggles commence aaaaaaaaaaaand the gig is up.

20) My friends all like copious amounts of anything, that when consumed, makes you laugh. It's shocking, I know.

21) My husband can drive anything better than yours.  It's just a fact.  And it's sexy too.

22) A tent does and can, make a bedroom.  Ask Emma.  I swear I heard a microwave and a toilet flush???!

23) Cans and bottles are apparently meant to be shot.

24) 2 weeks of anything with humans and me in one place = ugly me = valium.  Now I simply don't care I am ugly.

25) My Mother in Law goes redneck faster than a speeding light.  Who has ever seen her drink beer from a can?  Not I.  Bring it woman, bring it!!!!

26) Adult Slurpee's, alcohol in, in a bag, pre-frozen.  Just rip and straw like an illegal juice box makes the USA my favorite place ever!  "Yes Emma I said a dozen of them, just get them and hush you".

27) In laws arriving and removing all humans twice in one day = HEAVEN.

28) Wearing your "jewels" (wedding shit, necklace, earrings, tennis and watch anniversary shit)...not appropriate in redneck town.  They may say they like it but their eyes say "I will machete you bitch".

29) Having a step daughter play all week with your BFFs daughter is about the warmest most amazing feeling ever.

30) Having a step son teach your BFFs son manly shit, alongside your own brother as well, are Hallmark card making memories.  If they made cards for shooting stuff up.

31) Having a dear family friend who can redneck with the best of them fly in to visit and go redneck wild on some redneck asses is amazingly fun especially when it's full of wisdom like "what's the last thing a bug sees after hitting the windshield Emma?".  "What?" she asks, innocently.  "it's ass" says my delicate flower pseudo sister of my husband.  Emma breaks into a fit of giggles.  (FYI - if I say shit I get "NICOLLE CORRECT YOURSELF" at the top of her lungs.

Not Kimmer, she gets giggles.  "Sorry, wrong number".

32) Making kids laugh, even at the expense of embarrassing myself and them makes me happier than a menopausal woman in a candy store filled with fat burning magic chocolate.

33) Apparently if you Google "Silver Lake Sand Dunes" and images, there I appear, my picture.  I AM officially the spokesperson for this redneck county!  Happy to oblige.  When is my next gun store opening????

34) I can still beat boys with their toys.  I just "spritz" as Whoopie says while doing it.  That shit's scary.

35) My redneck delicate flower has a preference to the speed of her vibrators.  A semi automatic pellet gun doesn't seem to be fast enough, an automatic pellet gun sounds painful.  Her preference is in between.

36) There are some things about her I need not know (see above).  Neither does my step son, husband....etc.  Lol.

37) My brother has a way with words.  "Do you want to go to the dunes again today?"  Reply, "no thanks, I feel like I was gang raped by a group of Transformers".  In other words, *interpretation* his butt hurt from bouncing around on his 4 wheeler for 5 days. 

38) "5 minute walk to a private beach" is not a 5 minute car ride to a climb down a cliff to a beach only accessible by cliff thereby making it private only if you are stupid enough to climb down it, let alone back up it. *Insert my husband pushing my step daughter alllll the way up*.

39) "No 4 wheeling on the property please".  But hells to the yeah, shoot shit and leave empty bullet casings everywhere.  That makes a girl feel safe.  Well that and the giant chain likely used to hang.....a deer I hope.

40)  A "loft to sleep 6-8 indicates" people would care to sleep on your floors.  I wouldn't put the President of Russia's ass on that floor.  Wait, yes I would, if said ass was up in the air and.....okay, ease back girl, ease back.

41) Those tree branch looking like bugs exist here in North America and they are CREEPY.

42) Bats may be blind but they still look at me funny, they see me.

43) My husband is truly a redneck just better dressed and a lot sweeter.

44) My husband finds sand, 4 wheeling and bikinis very entertaining. 

45) I do not find 4 wheeling, sand, and beer bellies very entertaining.

46) A wildebeest head is not considered "decor" in most places.  Especially when you have attached it to drywall, not a stud, and it now rests on the floor of the "sleep everyone here" loft.

47) Seeing rabbit ears with tinfoil on the TV truly does indicate the nature of your vacation.

48) People have actually been waiting for my VMA or whatnot report.  I can't see it people, not with rabbit ears.  I can say Miley needs to put her tongue BACK in her mouth, otherwise, it was what it was, a 20 year old performin' probably under the influence.  See "redneck and dunes" above.

49) The inside lane, the one they refer to as either the "fast lane" or "passing lane" is clearly misunderstood in ALL of North America.

50) The friends and family in my life TODAY, right now, are the kindest, most loving, caring, fun, enjoyable, people ever.  They love me, they understand me, and they get me.  I love them, I understand them, and I get them.  This is more than enough for me.  Now if only this fucking place were bigger cause they are all getting on my last nerve. 

P.S. 50) is only half true.  Depends on the day which half.

This is a redneck beach.  Only way in, 4 wheel drive and tires barely filled with air, followed by all your fun toys, ours being the visible pile of them lower right!

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

My great uncle passed away in Uganda and has an account in Syria where money is and I need your help....

I have decided now when these money scam emails come that I will leave them in my SPAM file to avoid any viruses from "clicking here".  Instead I copy and paste the email address that it comes in from (as posted below if you wish to use), into a new message, and I send back the following, or similar, love note:


Subject: Fuck off

Nicolle Weir 1:24 PM


Dear Sirs/Madames,

Please be advised that if I get one more email from this address I will use whatever it takes, whatever connections I have, and find you. I will hunt you down and make you regret ever using my email address, as many already do! 

I think my favorite idea thus far has been to move in next to you and go off my medication.  "Wouldn't you like to be my neighbour" (sing along if you know it).  If going off my meds makes me use your lawn as my potty, or light fire to your driveway much like Amanda Bynes, so be it.  I love a good driveway bonfire.  

I am good with it.  I don't give a shit about your dead uncle in whatever country he died in.  I don't care about the money he left you or how I might be able to get my hands on it.  I AM confident I am not "losing out on a financial reward". 

More so I am saving my family from the financial downfall of bail when I make that trip to find you!

Is this clear enough for you?  Have we bonded?

Yours mentally unstable,

PROPAGANDA and My Uterus

Every single time that I drive through one of my local small towns, Lindsay Ontario, I am so dismayed to see so many young people with kids.  And I mean anyone under 25 with toddlers in tow.  Perhaps you think that's old enough.  Look back in your life, did you have a fucking clue who you were at 25?  Did you?  Talk to me when you are 45, looking back, because I didn't know anything until I was 30.  And it was only until I was 35 did I realize how much I didn't know.  Once I hit 40 I had a nice long list of things I wanted to do, things I needed to change, and things I finally realized were fantastic, and I did all this without ever exposing my kids to any of the negative it took for me to get there.  You don't raise kids when you haven't even dealt with life yet.  You haven't got a career yet in your 20s, you have a job which you are still trying to figure out if you even like.  You shouldn't be married in your 20s cause them boys, they figure out their shit in their 50s so don't expect much from them in their 20s, they're just a walking hormone!  25 is too young to have babies, you still are one! 

I do not want to generalize here, make this a statement for everyone, about everyone, typical for everyone.  There are some amazing cases of people getting married or even parenting alone and raising wonderfully well rounded, loved, and beautiful little people even though they were kids themselves.  I know that.  And I give you the utmost respect for it because that means at a young age you put yourself second to raise a child while trying to basically raise yourself.  Kudos to you.  But we know, for a fact, this isn't the norm or statistically true for most.

As I said, small towns, perhaps because of their size, seem to show a higher than normal proportion of young people having babies than not.  And it hurts me to see it.  It pains me to see them with their kids, nine times out of ten, with a punky assed man child, pants around his ankles (slight exaggeration) in the middle of the day on a Tuesday for example.  Work much?  Ah yes, I forgot, it's a part time job to support your family because you are only 15.  Or those girls waddling along the sidewalk with what looks like a school bag.  It makes my heart hurt for the life they are missing out on and the child that may or may not, have a harder life than it might with an adult raising it.  Trust me when I say adults can do a shit job too but as a kid yourself you aren't ready.  You just aren't. Being a parent means being completely and utterly selfless.  It means you give your life to a little person.  And you want to give that up for them, at a certain age you've done enough, your life is happily given to another.  When you are a kid, you will resent it one day, trust me.  When all your friends are going to some rave party and getting higher than high and you can't find a sitter for your teething baby, you will feel resentment.

On today's drive through Lindsay I got to see my first abortion protest first hand and it was shocking to say the least.  Especially when I worry so much about babies raising babies.  The first thing I saw was a woman holding a giant wood placard, about 5x5 feet in size.  She was cowering behind it, coward that she was, and taking up the entire sign was the image of an aborted fetus.  I am not sure the age, in weeks, but it was disturbing.  So disturbing in fact I pretty much screamed "oh my god no" and my husband swerved our big truck and trailer.  Thankfully because of this protest the streets were very busy and slow moving.  Our swerve didn't hurt anyone.

PLEASE DO NOT OPEN THE LINK BELOW IF YOU ARE AT ALL SENSITIVE TO, WELL BASICALLY, ANYTHING - The images are very graphic and disturbing, grotesque is what I call it.  And these represent EXACTLY what was on these giant placards.

Upon seeing this, after my initial reactive scream, down went my window.  My husband immediately knowing what was coming said pleadingly, "honey don't".  TOO LATE!  I unlatched my seat belt, leaned right out the window and yelled back to the lady only a couple of feet back now "are you going to take IN all these unwanted children, are you?".  Not 20 feet from where that woman was another woman, different grotesque picture, same cowering, and again I yelled, "are any of you going to fucking adopt the unwanted children of the world, ARE YOU?" I screamed.  Then came the woman standing defiantly brochures in hand.  Ohhhh this one and I would not be friends.  Just the look on her face of pure superiority made me want to slap that bitch.  Again, one final time, "are you, going to adopt these children that are not aborted?"  I was looking her straight in the eye, more defiantly than she because I was ready to tackle her, I was.  She turned her head away, "chicken shit" I muttered.  When we got to the light, there stood a boy maybe 17 or 18 and I was still cursing and swearing.  Speaking loudly I said to Dan, "look at that fucking sperm donor there placing judgement on MY uterus".  Then I yelled directly to the kid, "you should be ashamed of yourself, ALL OF YOU!".  His head went down, almost behind his sign and Dan said, "that's a kid that's been dragged here" to which I replied, "I don't give a fuck, we all have a choice and he made his, and as a result he got the sheer joy and pleasure of meeting me!"

I am thankfully to this minute for Dan.  The husband who did not let me out of the car.  I tried trust me, I tried.  Unlock.  LOCK.  Unlock.  LOCK.  If I wasn't so distracted I'd have lost it on him.  But it distracted me enough to advance to the next stage and call the City of Kawartha Lakes.  Years ago my husband rescued some drowning kids outside our home, I guess technically WE did.  We got OPP Awards at the OPP Centre in Orillia and sat with our Mayor.  And most recently I received a notice from the local old farts with nothing better to do than to write to him about making a county road 50km/hr versus the already slow 60km/hr that should be 80km/hr.  So I called the Mayor (cause it's what I do) to share my thoughts on the speed of this road that runs along my property sits on.  I expressed to him (as I often do) what would happen if at the corner of my property a 4 way stop was put in that I don't want.  I needed to warn him that the winds at that corner are tremendously strong and signs often fall, that he shouldn't waste my tax payer dollars.  He told me I was unique and he wouldn't forget me.  Typical. LOL

I got the Mayor's assistant, as one often does, a young man named Cody.  I gave my name and number, the details how to remember me by (see above) and then went on to rant about the inappropriateness of the protest.  That no, I didn't want their rights to protest taken away, but I wanted the pictures taken down.  That children would be seeing them.  I asked if it would be okay for me to take murder scene pictures, actual crime scene photos, off the Internet and make a 10x10 sign of it, stand on the corner with it reading, "I am against murder too", in solidarity of their cause. *sarcasm*.  I really hoped one of them would say, "that's inappropriate"....."NO SHIT!"  Cody found me amusing and laughed.  He then went on to tell me that specifically in regards to these protesters, abortion protesters, the Canadian Government passed legislation allowing this type of propaganda like photos.  I was a little stunned but I guess once the Government gave me the right to my uterus, they gave them the right to say they didn't like it in pictures.   He said, "basically, yes, and trust me, you're not my first call".  I told my new buddy not to bother the Mayor and was thankful he had that knowledge to share.  I did share "I asked them if they would adopt all the unborn children of the world" and he replied, "I bet they didn't say much to that". 

Our next stop was the bank, that's where I had my Cody chat, while I waited in the truck.  Thankfully it was a good long walk back to the protesters with an anger induced hot flash coursing through me. That kept me put waiting.  When Dan got back I had managed to calm down.   I got the standard lecture to remain calm, not let these things get to me, so before we moved the car I said this to Dan;

"Here's my problem with all of this.  Let's say a young woman is raped.  And they think that it's okay for her, to have to endure a 9 month pregnancy, all the while carrying a rapist's child.  That, that situation, is easier and better a choice for them than terminating an unborn fetus.  Take the rape and add say, that the rapist is HIV positive.  The young woman, of maybe 15 or 16, is now pregnant and HIV positive.  She can't start the HIV drugs as it would hurt the baby so she goes drug free for 9 months.  She may risk her own life now to carry a rapist's child.  But that's okay?  For them as a protester, that's okay?  Because terminating that pregnancy would be unwarranted, ungodly, murder.  And then, during the entire pregnancy she needs psychological help as rape victims often do.  Psychiatrists in Ontario take a good year to find, trust me on that one, only they, are covered by OHIP.  The young pregnant girl goes with a Psychologist.  That's anywhere from $250 - $400 an hour.  Is Miss Protester paying for that?  OHIP doesn't.  Or should this 15 year old HIV pregnant girl drop out of school for the pregnancy term and get a job to pay for the therapy she needs because she is carrying the baby of a rapist who gave her HIV?  As if her life wasn't over already, this should do it.  I'm depressed enough thinking about it and as such won't do anything productive today but write this post. Bet this girl is gonna be a real world changer.  She's off to such a promising start.  And now, we've made it the 7 months.  Due to the HIV, stress, and youth, the baby comes early, a preemie.  That's not a burden on our Health care system at all.  I am sure that bed, for that preemie won't take a spot from another preemie, you know, one that's not a rapist's.  But it's a baby none the less, there's this beautiful little preemie baby who is tested and determined to be HIV positive.  Now that's an adoptable baby.  What every new parent wants, an under weight, preemie, HIV positive baby?"  It was a mouthful, Dan was ever so patient, agreeing with his nods. 

Now I ask you this Miss Defiant Eye Protester, will YOU adopt this baby and give it the life it deserves?  Full medication, education, and unconditional love?  Not in that order.  And that's all I ask of you, and I want nothing more than a yes or no answer.
I was thinking as I asked this question I would have a wire coat hanger in one hand and a Dirt Devil in the other, it's all about the shock value props or so it appears.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Cherokee Wolf

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life.
"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.
"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego."
He continued,
"The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith".
'The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather,
"Which wolf will win?"
The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."
And this above is one of my many tattoos (right after it's application a long time ago).  F*ck off IPhone users, I like my keyboard.  That just also happens to mean I get shitty Blackberry pictures.  The above blurry picture, not blurry tattoo, reminds me always to choose the right wolf to feed. 

And even while this tattoo has resided there for years, in plain sight, I disregarded the message behind it.  Much like a scar or a birthmark, eventually it's just part of you.  I was reminded this past week why the hell I put it there in the first place. 

If everything else in life around you is failing, you are never without a choice, ever. 

Think about it.  It is the one thing in life you will always have. 

There are many people out there who don't always have a choice.  So you had better cherish it.  Cherish your right to chose kiss your wife or husband in front of the world to see.  But only here, not in Russia.  Fucking ruskie rednecks.  Ooops, damn tourettes.  Yes, MY tourettes is in the fingers when I type.  I cannot help it, it's my curse to bear.  I can only choose to accept it.  See what I did there.  Tied it all up in a funny bone bow. 

Or go simple, and cherish your right to chose to go to a social event or be kind to yourself and decide your body or mind, needs rest. 

You may not be able to chose your family, but you can chose how you interact with them.  How much, how little, how to feel about it, how not to feel about it.  What you will pile onto every interaction with them?  Are you carrying a backpack full of history with you?  Could you choose to put that down for a bit and see if life seems a little better?

You may not be able to chose who your ex wife or husband is, but you have the right to chose how you interact with them.  Are you carrying a backpack full of resentment with them preventing you from moving on in life happily because every interaction is full of anger?  And self loathing for having married in the first place?  You made a choice, then you made another, perhaps now it's time to choose to let go?

Etcetera, etcetera.  (I am going long form today, old skool...this spelling is for an editor friend, let's see if he reads this.  *insert test here*).

The world may be overwhelming and out of control, as it often can be.  Hello panic attacks!  Try to remember you have choices in that moment.  The most important of which is to remain in the NOW.  Handle that second of panic, focus, breathe, get through that first, handle that NOW.  Another NOW follows and you will handle what's in that NOW when it comes, it won't be the same unless you don't move on.

Yeah, yeah I am da' bomb.  I get it now.  Girls got the goods.

I am not yet offering lessons.  That would require a love of humans.  Not so much.  Only a little then some f*cktard comes along and ruins everything.

Judgement Day (that header cracks me up)

This was poignant to me before this past week, now, I just can't....

Well I can, cause it's me, I never shut the hell up.

I have been very vocal and "out there" battling the demons that rose inside me in regards to two long term friends I had that in the past year who let me down, painfully so.  My Bi Polar was settling into my mind and soul alongside Menopause.  It wasn't pretty.  I have raged, cried, and been to some very dark places.  It was scary in fact.  I couldn't handle the self loathing it brought up. 

This past week I spent in a room full of strangers taking a course in Mindful Based Stress Reduction for Chronic Pain Sufferers.  Now Chronic Pain ranges from the body, the mind, even the soul.  There were people who's bodies were letting them down with Fibromyalgia.  Some using walkers or wheelchairs due to various diseases ranging from MS through to osteoporosis so bad their spines were disintegrating.  Then there were us back pain sufferers who couldn't find a comfortable position if our lives depended on it.  All of us talking herniated discs, leg pain, numb legs, phantom legs hurting more than those we could feel.

The class was led by the revered Dr. Jackie Gardiner Nix.  Who studied in anaesthesiology for her medical doctorate.  Then went on to private practise only to see so many people in pain who began saying things like, "I danced the night away at my wedding, then suffered for weeks later".  How did a person in such pain dance the night away?  They put their pain aside.  Left it, over there, and motored on.  But then, in doing so, hurt themselves.  Could we harness that ability, that mind control, to give pain sufferers some relief.  She studied and studied and studied only to realize that through meditation it was proven we could relax our bodies so much that the pain drifted off.  It's still there, it never leaves, but we put it aside to relax. 

Part of the studies of meditation are a bunch of philosophies that also help.  Help a person with body pain, mind pain, soul pain.  Even those with OCD and ADHD, unable to settle their minds without medication, found themselves able to quiet their minds through meditation.  People suffering from severe depression due to childhood trauma able to embrace themselves and their past, to no longer judge themselves so negatively that they cannot see past it.   Who stop looking to others to fulfill what they cannot find in themselves.  They find some peace, even if only in those moments lost in breathing, breathing in, breathing out. 

These aren't the specific rules from Dr. J's (that's what I call her, we're homies now) book.  

One word resonates from above, one word.  Can you guess which word?  Quiz time.


We judge every day.  We think we judge others more than we could ever judge ourselves, we don't.  Least I don't.  I judge myself in a negative way hundreds of times a day.  Whether it's a look in a mirror or a frustration over my pain, my weight, my age, my my oh my, it's not good, and I never noticed.  When so many of you say "stop, you're doing too much".  "Don't you think this might be too much?".  "Are you taking on too much?".  There is NO WAY I will accept I have limitations I thought.  I can do anything.  I CAN!  What I just learned is that I can do everything, with kindness, loving kindness, without judgement of myself.  And that might mean less, or maybe the same amount with help, or breaks.  I don't have to put myself aside for you, or anyone else, not if I care for myself.  Not if I love myself.  If I actually cared about myself I wouldn't hurt myself this way.

Now back to the start of this tale.  I have lashed out at two people who hurt me so.  Had I loved myself enough, I would not have felt the need to make you feel as bad as I felt.   Had I loved myself, I wouldn't have let your actions, or my perception of them, to hurt me.  Had I loved myself, I would never have found myself wanting to beg your forgiveness for my lashing and reacting.  I would have just accepted, "it is, what it is, while it is".  Had I loved myself I would have let you go a long time ago, without anger, without judgement, without regret. 

Now don't get all up in my bid'ness.  This girl will not be looking in the mirror daily and saying "I love myself" over and over like Stuart Smalley.  I will NOT become so kind that a man smoking with a dog in the car won't be called an ass, loudly and without shame.  I will continue to judge those in media because frankly it's funny as shit.  I am hilarious after all, they're my staple.  But here's what I am going to do.  I am going to be kinder to myself one way or another each and every single day because more of us need to.

As for those two I leave behind.  I hope you find your authentic selves because only in doing that shall you find yourself in a place where you can receive such gifts as the ones a person like me offered and do it justice in receiving and giving love in return.  I wish you that.  I couldn't have done this one week ago.  I was very lost in the emotion of it all, very lost in the self loathing of it all.  I am found.

Hey, I found myself!!!  I didn't even know I was lost.  That's in large part due to the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs I consumed for so long.  You'd get lost too.  I am lucky I remember my name, it's still Nicolle right??? 

It's a new chapter bitches!

P.S. I am Bi Polar so give it a minute, things could change.  I'm kinda' awesome that way.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

What's this? Here, on my pants?

Moments like this are gold in a marriage I tell ya, Gold!

Husband: "Honey?"

Me: "Yes dear

You all know this is how I speak to people, especially my husband.  I think I vowed to speak this way at some point in that party.  You know the one?  Where I wore that white dress.

Husband walks in with blank pants in hand, wiping one hand furiously over part of the pants.

Husband: "What's this white stuff all over these pants?  They're ruined."

Now don't go all dirty birds on me, besides a few curse words this rant is PG.  I watched him, wiping, wiping, nothing happening.  A small smile crept onto my face.  I relaxed a little into my spot on the couch.  I waited.

Husband: "What the hell, these are my favorite pants.  They're Armani, these are really expensive pants, I don't want to buy another pair for that money?"

Me: "I'm sorry they're ruined.  Are you sure they are?  I don't think you need a new pair, I am sure you have other pants you like."

Husband: "I really loved these pants.  Wonder what the hell happened?"

Me: "Any ideas?"

Husband: "No, I should probably take a look at the washer and dryer."

Me: "Yes, you should.  While you are in there can you get out the vacuum and vacuum out the rest of the Kleenex you left in the pocket of those pants out of the dryer please?  Maybe re-wash all the blacks and see if that white sh*t comes of them to!"

Husband: "F*ck I hate when this sh*t happens."

Me: "What sh*t?"

Husband: "The sh*t you warn me about like emptying my pockets before throwing my clothes in the hamper sh*t".

Me: "Me too honey, me too".

Friday, August 2, 2013

"Green's Everyone's"

The linked story below ripped at my heart strings for not only this mother and child, but society.  Two steps forward, one redneck step back.

Then the story made me so mad I wanted to write a lovely long rant about how I am going to become a total redneck racist, more so than I am frankly.  Maybe a rant where I try to start my own non fan club group against rednecks, we could use Paula Dean's picture on our tshirts.  But finally, the valium kicked in and I calmed down and realized the wee hypocrisy there. 

Let me say this about the story in a slightly racist way I guess you could say.  I would have killed that redneck f*ck if he touched my child, and I do mean life ended when I say it here.  The minute this happened, had it been me, my mind would have done to that rage place.  It's very dark once it snaps, I don't see much but my target.  I would have seen nothing but this smoke smelling, cammo wearing, Duck Dynasty bearded fucktard and likely tackled him.  The only good part is when confronted by the police I get to yell "sorry I am bi polar".  Oh and that he accosted a small child, touched without permission, a small child first.  Holy jesus this makes me angry.  Read the attached link, see how you do with it.

And oddly enough just yesterday I can directly link myself to this story.  I was at a nail place getting me a wee mani as I deserve a little self love now and again.  It was Korean owned, I asked.  I am always curious about languages and art, sometimes the alters and worship set ups etc.  I have an enquiry mind.  I am also nosey so when they speak a foreign language while working on my hands I say, "did you just tell her my hands are a nightmare?"  When they say no, I usually say something like "come on you did didn't you?".  I can actually get them to a point where they are teaching me their language.  I like to have fun when I get my manis.  And this distracted me from the fact this lovely man, closely shaven, lovely hands, slicked back thick black hair, had at least five random hairs on his face that were at least 5 inches long!  Just long black, curly due to length, random facial hairs.  No moles/beauty marks, just hairs.  It wasn't something I found overly attractive, yet I couldn't stop looking every time he put his eyes down to my hands my eyes went to his "hairs".  *gag*.  Yep, I didn't do well meeting those random fellas.

Wow, thought I had let that go, *convulse slightly*.

Any who, while I was there I realized they were a family.  He was the leader of the pack, my "hair" man, his wife was there, his daughter, her husband, a male cousin and his ADORABLE little granddaughter running around.  Of course I realized that by asking who every person was.  Enquiry minds want to know.  The cousin seemed to be the painter.  He painted a little girls nails the standard pink in under 15 seconds I think it was.  Okay it actually was.  I counted, I am OCD that way, it distracted me again from staring at the "hairs".  Whatever, just imagine living in this fucking head for a second.  Don't judge me! 

Okay okay back to the story.  When he wasn't painting, cousin was mixing, and thinning existing nail polishes.  I found it very distracting from the "hair" entertaining to watch.  His back was to me and in one hand he would shake a bottle up and down with the ferocity of a electric paint can shaker.  Just picture it.  Take a moment.  As fast as the paint machine, his back turned, one hand rapidly going up and down in front of him.  *snort*  If you don't get it, what it could have been, I am not sharing any more information, you don't deserve it until you put on your big girl/boy pants to get it.  

When the shaking was done, he had made and mixed this pretty awesome pink.  He took said pink and painted it on his long pinkie finger.  Just for your information, I have looked up said pinky finger and located the reason behind it.  Have you noticed like I that many men of Asian decent have this pinky finger with a long nail?  I have.  It is not that all Asian men do cocaine.  That's a Caucasian man.  LOL  In fact having that nail would be pretty stupid advertisement of a cocaine issue don't you think?  Hello, my name is Andy and I am not a cocaine user, the pinky, just forgot to clip it, *sniffle sniffle sniffle*.  In fact it signifies "wealthy and intelligent, and not a manual labourer".  Having all nails long gets in the way of daily life so they keep the pinky long as a traditional Asian representation of wealth.  Interesting isn't it?  No?  Fuck you then, I thought so.  Better than the other suggestion of used to dig shit out *gag* of the ear.  Oh my, I puked a little there. 

When my "wealthy, intelligent" cutie patootie cousin showed his painted long pinky to the adorable little granddaughter, now in her bathing suit (no idea why, no pool or lake in sight) she screamed, "that's a girl colour!".  He laughed and replied "no it's not".  "Yes it is" she screamed louder, laughing.  "No" he said, "it's not just a girl's colour".  Again, and louder as little ones often do to get their point across, "IT'S A GIRL COLOUR!". 

Now normally I am not known for speaking up, interrupting strangers for being misinformed but I saw this moment as a special time for me to interject.  See much earlier in the year my friend had posted how angry she was that her step son had been picked on at school for wearing his favorite colour, pink.  The girls and boys both teased him and he came home upset and didn't want to wear his favorite colour anymore.  His mom explained that it was okay, they were wrong and not very nice for that kind of picking on him, and maybe pink just stayed home with them.  Now my friend, the partner and step mom said, "that's bullshit, these parents and kids need to learn this is bullshit".  I wasn't totally offended or all uppity but I calmly wanted to say, as a parent, I had never come across that particular situation in my life where I had found myself needing to say and teach "wait a minute, pink isn't just for girls or for gay men etc".  I honestly had not.  The stores sell blues, and a range of other colours (not including pink) for my pre-teen step son.  And pinks and a range of other colours for my pre-teen step daughter.  It's just what's there, in the store, on the shelves.  Sure my husband has business shirts in various soft colours of pink and purple or pin striped, that's the norm, but the kids, nope.  So I never bought or tried to give my step son a pink shirt.  And the one time I bought a boys shirt for my step daughter in grey, she said "it's a boys shirt" and I replied "yep, but girls wear boys stuff all the time, half my shirts are your dads".  She wears it sometimes now, not often, but sometimes.  That's the only lesson I taught there, I didn't see a need in that flash of time to do more.  I am sure I was just trying in a nano second to get a shirt on her so I could do laundry, cook dinner, stop the house from burning down from her brother, feed the dog, feed the fish, etc etc.  It had been a teaching moment long before my friends child came home in tears.   Since then I have made sure to say things that indicate colour is colour, don't be asses.  My kids are older now, I can say that and they get I am not insulting them but saying don't be the type of person I need to insult = don't be asses.

There I was, in this public space, the nail salon, the family all around me, customers politely staying quiet.  Poor me, shy, not wanting to speak up as usual, but I turned to the adorable girl and said, "what's green then?".  See I had my plan ready, I am a genius that way.  It just appears in my head, a  life lesson, and it just comes out.  Okay maybe that's the bi polar impulse control issue but whatever, least I wasn't impulsing my way out of a crack house.  I was just talking nicely to a beautiful little girl.  She replied that green was "everyone's" after thinking about it for a bit with a scrunched up thinking face.  PERFECT my little disciple, the lesson shall commence.  Then I said, "why are you being so mean to pink then?"  Again her face scrunched up and she looked sad almost hurt.  Wait for it......and I followed with, "shouldn't pink be allowed to be everyone's too?"  She looked at me hard for a few minutes.  I held her look, bring it my child, bring it.  And she belted out, "okay" and ran off to play.  GOLD.  That moment in my life was just pure GOLD.  That's an everyone colour too just so you know.

Her father, working on my nails (wait, is that a boy or girl job?) said "she's just so young", and he smiled a smile of adoration for her.  And all I said with the same smile, cause she WAS freaking adorable, was "you're never too young".