Rather than a breakup, I have a conundrum.
Jul 30th
One of my friends is getting married in September. She’s a friend I met through my ex-boyfriend (they’ve known each other a few months longer). An ex-boyfriend I’m none to fond of. I’m invited to the wedding, but I’ve been told the whole time that he (and his new girlfriend) are not invited. I’ve been planning to go since about April.
Today, said friend emailed me to let me know that she is now, in fact, inviting my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend to her wedding, but she hopes that I’ll still come. And while that’s great and it’s her day and I want her to be happy, spending a weekend in the middle of nowhere (and somewhere we actually spent a weekend TOGETHER once) trapped with my ex and his girlfriend isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, you know?
My friend does sometimes read my blog (sorry, friend, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I swear. It’s your wedding and you have to do what’s going to make you the happiest), so there’s a chance she’ll read this. Hence the vague.
My question is this: Do I suck it up and go spend the weekend with my ex, who is likely to be a drunken asshole? Or is it fair to say that I now can’t come because the conditions under which I accepted the invitation have been changed?
I won’t lie, part of me is a little bit hurt by this, but I think I understand what happened. Ex’s new girlfriend isn’t an asshole, even if Ex is (and everyone knows it), and my friend has become actual friends with her. I would never ever tell her that she shouldn’t have her friend at her wedding. This is my issue, not hers.
So in the end, I’m the one with a decision to make. I can almost guarantee that if I go to this wedding, it will not be good for me. I will survive, yes, but I’m not sure I really want to put myself through it. And I can almost tell you with certainty that he doesn’t want to be around me any more than I want to be around him. This is a person who broke me. Who changed everything (for me, nothing changed for him). A person I loved more deeply than nearly anyone in my life, and who hurt me more than nearly anyone in my life ever has. A person who could discard me just as easily as he gets rid of the trash. And while I have no interest in being with him, I also have no interest in hanging out or being friendly.
I’m sure some of you will say that this means I’m not over it. There are some things about the relationship that I’m not over, actually. HE is not one of them, but there’s plenty of lasting damage from his actions. I’m on friendly terms with nearly everyone else I’ve ever dated, but I can’t imagine that he will ever be one of those. I spent a year and a half with the man, and never really noted him to be a good friend. There’s no reason to want to be friends with him.
And it’s not like this will just be a two-hour event and I can just avoid him. This is a wedding to be held at a campsite-type place in Arkansas. It will be a whole weekend. There will be drinking and partying and such. And being around him drunk is on my list of things I never want to do again. Ever.
Any advice?
At first I was afraid.
Jul 29th
But now I see the error of my ways. You thought I was going to say “I was petrified,” didn’t you? Admit it!
Yesterday, I stumbled upon possibly the greatest thing of all time. Basil Marceaux (dot com), candidate for Governor of Tennessee. If you haven’t seen his videos, you’re missing out.
I’m giving you the video with subtitles for two reason. One, because maybe you’re at work and you can’t hear what he’s saying. Trust me, you need to know. And two, because YES, he really is saying what you think you’re not hearing correctly.
I just realized that a news station in Tennessee has a second video of him for all of us to watch, as well. I don’t think this one has made it to YouTube. He believes in a requirement for every children to read the minutes of the Congress.
And how can we argue?
Not only are his videos genius, but his website? Man, I’ve laughed so hard I cried. I can’t even decide on a favorite part. And seriously, take your time as you peruse. There’s a lot of information there.
I love this: VOTE FOR ME AND IF I WIN I WILL IMMUNE YOU FROM ALL STATE CRIMES FOR THE REST OF YOU LIFE!
Honestly, I’m kind of down with this plan. I could use immunity from state crimes. Oh wait, is he saying I can commit state crimes and get away with it? Or that I won’t have any committed against me? I can’t tell. Either way, immunity is usually good on reality television, right?
And this: My friends a beer stores say they must check 200 D/L a day that 400 minutes a day per clerk which is over 6 hours at $ 7.00 a hour that $ 42.00, with it mandatory then we must pay them.
His friend is a beer store! Free drinks for everyone. They might be warm, though, depending on how his friend stores the beer. Also, I have no idea what any of the above statement means. That store clerks should get paid extra money for checking IDs? Or that we should all get paid for the time they spend checking our IDs? Because I’m on board with the second! What a waste of time! I feel like it might take longer for Basil to do the math than your average store clerk, though.
But I think this is my favorite, under his “What Important” section: See why dental is not in most plans a tooth aches hurt more than a back aches and no teeths depresses people
No teeths DOES depress people! And Basil would know, as he seems to be missing a few of them. It’s possible he’s speaking from personal experience here. I think “no teeths depresses people” is like, my new motto for life, yo.
I can actually see one set of my grandparents voting for this guy. So it’s a good thing we moved them to Texas. Most of my family does still live in Tennessee, though. Here’s to hoping that this election doesn’t turn into that one season of American Idol where everyone was voting for the worst kid, just to see if they could make him the winner. Although, well…maybe it would teach Tennessee a lesson to let this man be in charge for a little while? Ha! I keed, I keed. I don’t see him getting elected, but I’m damn sure going to let him entertain me in the meantime. You can also follow (fake) Basil Marceaux (dot com) on Twitter.
Oh oh, and if you really can’t get enough, his son is running for Tennessee State House of Representatives! Or something. I’m not clear. But check out HIS website AND his myspace blog. And don’t you worry, dear readers. Basil Marceaux the Third is already born. I’m sure he’ll be running for Congress soon.
Ernest J. Pagels, Jr. has dropped out of his the race for Senate, because he didn’t make it on the ballot (shocking). A sad day for us all, to be sure.
Here’s Pagels’s ad (his mouth scares the shit out of me):
Dude. Even Hitler liked porn, right? I can’t imagine why this guy didn’t make it on the ballot! I’m kind of sad, though, because I really want to see him force all government to not spend more money than they bring in. Really, Ernest? Good luck with that. Even us normal people, who don’t have to run an entire country or state or city, can barely do that.
These characters are some scary proof that ANYONE can run for political office, all it takes is that pesky citizenship. I know it’s a “free” country and all, but should we maybe consider at least a third grade math and reading test before we allow someone to run for office? Or not, I’m laughing my ass off over here. No teeths depresses people!
Christmas in July!
Jul 28th
Gotcha! It’s not Christmas in July and I don’t have any presents for you. But I do want to talk about presents.
I like getting free stuff as much as the next kid, but I don’t understand all the rules that exist about gifts.
I guess if I had one wish it would be this: I wish all the people of the world would stop being so ridiculously sensitive.
Okay, that probably wouldn’t be my one wish (if I only had one). But let’s pretend for right now.
When someone gives you a gift, particularly if it’s a birthday or Christmas gift, it comes wrapped with all these conditions. You must pretend to like it, even if you don’t. You can’t return it or give it to someone who might enjoy it. You have to wear it, display it, make mention of it around the person who gave it to you.
Why?! If you’re not just giving someone a gift out of obligation, which, in my opinion is what birthday and Christmas gifts usually end up being, why wouldn’t you want them to be happy about the gift they’ve received? I don’t understand. And if you’re not allowed to give any feedback, as the receiver of the gift, how can the gift-giver expect to improve in the future?
Instead, you’re trapped in this vicious circle of pretending to like crocheted belts or diarrhea-colored shirts or purple anything and receiving something similar every time there’s a gift-giving holiday.
Why do we do this to ourselves? I’m actually not against gifts. I like to give people things. I sometimes even like to get presents. I just don’t like the pressure that comes along with the whole thing (also, I suck at surprises in either direction). And I don’t like feeling obligated to give someone something just because it’s a convention (or receiving something out of obligation). What if I want to give you something on May 10, but you’re birthday isn’t until June 15? Or deal with the stress of buying Christmas gifts for everyone I know (last I checked, I don’t get a raise in December and all my bills stay the same…)?
I think the whole gift thing would be so much better if we could all be honest with each other and no one felt forced to give something or like something. People even get offended when I tell them not to buy me presents. Or they argue with me about it or tell me I have a problem. Or my favorite, when asked by my family to make a Christmas list, I got complaints about the things ON the list. “Socks? That’s no fun!” But what if I need socks? (This is a hypothetical. I actually have a bazillion pairs of socks.)
I also have this tiny thing. See, if you think you know me well enough that you should buy me a gift, I think you should know me well enough to be able to get me something I’ll enjoy. Without me having to make a list of things you should give me. That takes all the fun out of it. And so, if you don’t know me well enough to be able to purchase a gift for me without me telling you what to buy? I’d rather you just not buy me anything. I have a job, I receive a paycheck, I can buy stuff for myself. (This entire paragraph is null and void if you want to buy me a car or a beach vacation.) Why on earth should we trade the same $30-value-of-gift back and forth year after year?
I was thinking about this because I heard a guy on the radio telling his co-hosts that someone got his two-year-old daughter a Barbie. He told his friend that he thought the gift was inappropriate for his daughter’s age, and that if the guy wanted to take it back, he should. Then the phones blew up with people calling in to tell this guy how rude he was. I’m sorry, what? He doesn’t get to be the one who judges what’s appropriate for his daughter? Why should he take the gift (and cause his friend to be out the money for the gift) if he was just going to throw it away or give it away?
Putting aside all my many other issues with Barbie, how on earth is a Barbie appropriate for a two-year-old? There are small pieces and parts, which a kid could swallow. It’s not like two-year-olds understand fashion or really like to dress things up. Or that your average two-year-old could even get the clothes on and off a Barbie. Those things are tight. So what’s the problem with telling someone, “Hey, I really appreciate you thinking of me/my daughter, but this gift isn’t really appropriate right now”?
What do you do when you get gifts you don’t like? Do you think you’d want someone to tell you if your gift wasn’t well received?
R-E-S-P-E-C-T?
Jul 27th
Despite all the many wonderful suggestions from you guys, I went with the name Cooper. Coop, for short. It’s what I started calling him in my head, so there it is. Originally, I wanted to name him after a scientist (I liked Franklin and Chomsky), but I just couldn’t escape Cooper. Which, in actuality, is because of my undying love of Sheldon Cooper, who at least plays a scientist on TV.
Cooper is a five-month-old Terrier mix. He weighs 8.2 pounds right now. He’ll probably get a little bigger, but not a whole lot. He eats his food one piece at a time. He runs away from the bowl to chew each piece. I’m pretty sure if I could stick to his diet plan, I’d only weigh 8.2 pounds, too. It takes him forever to eat breakfast because he’d rather hang in the bathroom with me while I get ready.
Which, actually, is something I’ve never minded in a man. So I guess he’s perfect.
The only things we’re really having issues with are poop and the fact that Cooper really only wants to sleep for a couple of hours at a time, each segment punctuated with face-licking and hair biting and “PLAY WITH ME PLAY WITH ME LOOK HOW CUTE I AM YOU LOVE ME PLAY WITH ME NOW!”
I think we’ll be able to work through both obstacles. He’s peeing outside like a champ. With the exception of this morning, when he peed on my kitchen rug, literally right next to the puppy pad. But this was mostly my fault, as I didn’t take him out right away. Lesson learned.
What I actually wanted to talk about today, though, is respect. And sorry, but this is about sports. Well, not just sports, but sports is the impetus.
It’s what they’re calling “Shoulder Pad-Gate” here in Dallas. Even Aaron Rodgers of the Greenbay Packers has weighed in (on Twitter, somewhere). You know, because we care what he thinks.
Cowboys* training camp has started in San Antonio. In what seems to be an almost unprecedented action, Dez Bryant (rookie wide receiver and first round draft pick) refused to carry Roy Williams’s shoulder pads when asked. As a rookie, hazing is very much a part of life, and everyone just goes along.
Well, not Dez Bryant.
And I say, good for him. Honestly, if I were Dez Bryant, I’m not sure I’d really want to play football in Dallas. After all the ridiculous talk about his mother and his upbringing (in a league that includes Michael Vick, Pacman Jones, Donte Stallworth, and What’s-his-name who shot himself in the leg, to name a few), none of which have any real bearing on his ability to catch a football, I’d probably cut and run.
What really gets me about this story, aside from the fact that it’s actually a story and people have actually been talking about it for days now, is that everyone is talking about respect. How can Dez expect to earn the respect of his fellow teammates if he doesn’t do their grunt work? Uh…that doesn’t even make sense to me.
I don’t tend to respect people who let me push them around. I tend to respect people who stand their ground and stand up for what they believe in. And hazing has never made sense to me. In fact, arbitrary actions that are designed to show respect have never made sense to me. That’s not how respect works, in my opinion.
I do understand tradition, but I’m not much of a traditionalist. If I wanted tradition, I’d go to Texas A&M or join the military. I don’t need someone to tell me that I have to stand up when the National Anthem plays, in order to love and respect my country. I don’t need to be forced to put my hand over my heart when I say the pledge of allegiance (or forced to say the pledge of allegiance, for that matter). It’s a gesture, and it could very easily be an empty one. Respect isn’t about arbitrary actions, in my opinion. Respect is something deeper. And I’m not saying that those things are wrong or even that they’re ridiculous. I’m just saying that you can’t know what’s in someone’s head or heart, so maybe don’t give the girl who doesn’t take her hat off for the whatever dirty looks. Maybe she just doesn’t want to show off her hat hair. And the guy who readily stands when he’s supposed to? He may be plotting to overthrow the government.
It seems to me that this is really about the fact that these guys let themselves get pushed around, so now they want to be able to take it out on the new kids. That’s not respect. It’s immature, frat-boy crap. It’s not even really team building. I mean, unless you want your team built on punishing it’s new members. And look, I get it, it’s a thing. It’s how things are. It’s just what happens. But it’s not required, it’s not necessary, and I sincerely doubt it’s helping anyone’s football game. So if the dude doesn’t want to do it, why make such a fuss about it? It’s just making a big deal out of nothing.
Plus, his response was, “I’m here to play football, not carry someone else’s pads.” How can anyone argue with that? But let’s not make this about respect, people. It’s just not. Plus, if I were Roy Williams, I might just keep my mouth shut until I could pull my weight on the team. I, for one, will laugh when Dez takes his place as a starter. Here’s to hoping he can catch the ball.
*No, I’m not a Cowboys fan. Living in Dallas just means that Cowboys news is what I hear the most. In other news, IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR FOOTBALL!
I’m finally ready.
Jul 26th
This weekend was kind of rough. I had some minor surgery. Yes, I’m okay. There’s no reason to be worried. Plus, I can guarantee you won’t out-worry my friends, so you might as well just focus on your own stuff. I’m okay with that.
Anyway, I actually feel much MUCH better. Finally. There are lots of things I want to talk about, but this morning, there’s only one thing on my mind. And he looks a little something like this:
You see, in 1999, I got a dog. I went to the SPCA and there she was, sitting in her water bowl. Little did I know, this would later be not nearly as cute. I took her home and loved her more than I’ve loved most people in my life. She was my baby. Her name was Peanut.
Then, about a year and a half ago, she died. I’m not going to say any more about it because, well, I cried every time I had to say something about her yesterday, and I don’t really feel like crying this morning.
I didn’t get a new dog right away, because for me, it wasn’t just about having a dog. It was about having Peanut. Plus, a dog is a pretty serious commitment and one I just wasn’t ready to jump into. Yes, my fear of commitment even boils over into caring for animals.
And it’s not that I didn’t think I’d ever love another dog. It was just that I wasn’t ready.
Well, yesterday, apparently I was ready. Because yesterday, I went to the SPCA, just to check things out. I was under no circumstances going to get a puppy. Or a dog. But definitely not a puppy. No potty-training and having my shoes chewed. No whining and barking and yapping. Not for me. No sir.
When I walked in, I saw him. And oh, how cute he was. Just look at that face (above). I was strong, though. I moved on. I didn’t even slow down in the puppy section. I went straight for the grown-up dogs. I walked by each dog. There were lots of adorable ones, lots of sad ones. One in particular sort of yanked on my heart strings. A five-year-old Chow Chow with some sort of skin situation. She was so chill and so beautiful. Just the cutest little face.
But I was strong. I wanted a small dog, if I was going to get a dog. I live in an apartment, and I don’t want to subject a larger dog to the confines again. Peanut was a straight-up apartment dog. She lived in an apartment most of her life, but I still felt bad that she couldn’t run around the way she might want to. She was a German Shepard/Rottweiler mix. She weight about 90 pounds. She was adorable, but do you know how hard it is to find an apartment with a 90-pound Rottweiler mix? Yeah…so I knew I wanted a small dog. And nothing that could be considered aggressive (despite the fact that Peanut was scared of most bugs and never aggressed anything that didn’t aggress her first). And so I walked out of the dog section and back toward the door.
Where I ran into my old friend, cute tiny puppy. So I asked if I could play with him for a few minutes. I should have known better. He’s ridiculously sweet and so cute, you just want to eat him up. And now, he lives with me. We spent our first night together last night, snuggling. He experienced some separation anxiety, which resulting in some high-pitched squealing, this morning while I was in the shower. I think it will pass once he’s more comfortable, though.
They said he came to the shelter from another shelter, with a truck load of his friends. He was so matted, they had to cut off the hair around his waist. But only that hair, go figure. So he looks a little…flock of seagulls right now, in the abdominal area. He was infested with fleas and had two different parasites. My heart just broke to hear the story. I’ll never understand people who treat animals that way.
They named him Sparky at the shelter, but I’m still working on a real name for him. Sparky is my default nickname for people who are being idiots, so I’m sure he’ll still get called that sometime. I can’t decide if he needs a people name or another name. I’m usually really good at naming things, but I’m at a loss, so far. I want to see a little more of his personality before I settle on something.
He’s a little ball of energy, but he’s perfectly willing to sit down and snuggle with me, when I’m ready to relax. Also, he’s a morning person. Which we WILL have to fix. I can’t handle that much cheerful in the mornings. Right now, he’s sitting on his bed, behind my desk, just hanging out. He’s such a good boy.
So what do you guys think? Any name suggestions?
