Saturday, July 23, 2011

A Facebook Exchange

Rockstar Step-Daughter#1:  
TBH; you're a cool step-mom! ♥
Even though I rarely see

July 19 at 3:25pm  *Like * Unlike * See Friendship

Rockstar Step-Mom:
Well...that whole rarely seeing each other thing can totally change now! ♥ I love and adore you Rockstar Step-Daughter #1. You're a totally cool step-daughter too. ♥

July 19 at 3:30pm * Like  *  Unlike

Rockstar Step-Daughter #1:
 I love you too, :)

July 19 at 8:41pm * Like  * Unlike

I read and re-read this exchange about 50 times.  Why?  Because, honest to God, I freakin love my step-daughters.  They are a part of the man I am absolutely head over heals in love with.  How could I not be completely smitten with them?  

When Shark and I first met, I was very open to building a fun relationship with his girls.  Afterall, I have no obligation to be these girls mother. They have a mom, so I get to be fun, the friend, not the disciplinarian, not the setter and keeper of the rules.  And of course it did not work out that way.  There was a ton of heartbreak, for all of us.  For the kids because they were stuck in the middle, afraid to go home and say if they had fun here out of loyalty to mom.  For Shark because the two entities he loved more than anything else on Earth, his children & his wife, were shadowed by a dark, menacing obscenely jealous cloud.  For me because I really really wanted to love these kids and have them love me too.  But every positive experience, every trip, every lesson we experienced, was met with bitterness, primarily for them.  Shark and I were able to erase voicemails, unheard, or delete text messages, unread.  We simply did not answer the phone.  But his daughters heard it all.  That makes me so sad for them.

So as much as it still kinda hurts, I would try very hard to understand when the things I got these girls, were left behind at our house, or tossed aside without another thought.  It wasn't a personal dig.  It was the situation.  But this is only to a certain extent.  I figured one day the girls might value a relationship with me as much as I looked forward to one with them.  But I wasn't going to hold my breath.

And then the oldest one turned 18 and a completely different kid emerged.  I mean, a total positive transformation.  The kind of kid who posts messages like the one above, randomly on my Facebook page.

I love this new turn of events.  I love this kid.  There is so much I want to do and show her. There is a whole side of this world and this life that I can uncover for her and watch her explore. How friggin' cool is that?

Monday, July 18, 2011

Don't Bother getting on my last's pinched.

Two weeks ago I woke up with a kink in my neck.  Combine that with a typical day in the life of a Rockstar Mom and I quickly developed a tight knot in the left shoulder.  This led to a screaming headache.  The pain began to radiate down my left arm and this is where I turned into a savage bitch.

I put out a plea for help on Facebook.  Among my 450+ friends are a couple of Chiropractors, a couple of nurses, a medical assistant and a half a dozen Massage Therapists, and a couple other random folks who like to fancy themselves "Medical Professionals" based on their experience of previously diagnosing a neighbor's hamster with erectile disfunction.

I had an appointment at a friend's chiropractic clinic within 24 hours of my health insurance being verified. That day I was x-rayed, adjusted, hooked up to an electroshock machine and given a short trigger point massage.  The young man doing the trigger point massage put his hands on my shoulders and said something along the lines of "Girl! You are SO tight!"  It was at this moment that I choked on my saliva.  For about two hours, I had complete relief.  And then the pain returned with a vengeance.

I woke up this morning with numbness in my left thumb and pointer finger.  This caused me to drop my coffee and prevented me from blow drying or styling my hair.  I settled for a frumpy dark blue headband that now, six and a half hours into this God forsaken day, I realize does not match my sky blue t-shirt.

I called my friend at the Chiropractor's office and fought back tears as I asked to be seen again ASAP.  She got me an appointment within two hours.

I saw a different Chiropractor today and this guy actually sat down and looked over my x-rays with me.  The good news is my bone quality is good.  The bad news is, my alignment resembles that of a jackknifed rig.

He gave me another adjustment, I had trigger points done yet again (with another comment about being tight...Is it wrong that I feel a little flattered?) and I spent 10 minutes hooked up to the electro shock machine with moist heat on my neck.  This treatment needs to continue for a period of 90 days and relief will not come immediately.

I have another appointment day after tomorrow.  And I am sitting here fighting off tears because:

A. I am in pain.
B. I am tired.  I can sleep only in increments of three hours before I wake up in pain.
C. I don't know how I am going to pay for this. The Bug has some extensive doctor bills of her own going on right now, and my JackWagon Ex is currently sitting at $1966.67 in arrears on his child support with the date of his last sent in payment, according to the Attorney General of Texas, being February 10, 2011.

And I am due any day now, so um, yeah.  Tears are imminent.  I spent the weekend grunting with each move, bitching incessantly, smelling like a tube of Bengay with a moist heat heating pad, a moist microwave heated rice filled knee sock, slung over my left shoulder.  A real prize, I tell ya.  Shark wouldn't even look at me, much less claim me as the woman he exchanged vows with just three short years ago.

I just have to know things are going to improve at some point.  Please.

Because right now, death seems more and more inviting.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

The Bald & The Beautiful butt kicking...

For about four or five years now, I have been playing pool.  (As in billiards.)  I am not that good.  But Shark is.  Thus, the moniker, Shark.  I have been on a handful of first place teams, gotten a few nice pins and patches for various accomplishments, nothing overwhelmingly special.

Last session, our team was thrown together at the last minute.  Our team name, naturally was "Thrown Together".  We ended the season in first place.  Our team is made up of 8 players, 4 women, 4 men.  Three of the 4 men are bald.  The one guy with a full head of hair is David.  He's kinda "GQ" and one night, this drunk stripper girl was really making a big deal about how "beautiful" David is.  So from then on, we have been calling him "Beautiful David". 

Now...think about this.  Four women, three bald men...and Beautiful David.  We have changed the name of our team this session to "The Bald and the Beautiful".  It works.  Almost.  The problem seems to be, we have lost all our billiard mojo and we are currently sitting in dead last place. 

A couple weeks ago, on Facebook, one of the girls on our team posted, apologizing for not being able to make it to pool night, and asking how our team did.  One of the bald guys posted a reply saying we got our butt kicked.  Another girl on our team said we got our butts kicked so bad, it still hurt.  And then I replied, "Yep.  My butt hasn't hurt this bad since that time we went to the coast for spring break, and I drank all those Jagerbombs and passed out on the beach and.....oh never mind."

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Scorpions & Bad Tattoos

As of late, I've been dreading sleep.  My dreams are plagued with scorpions.  I know exactly what brought it on too....the stupid local news.  I guess there has been an influx of pests moving indoors due to the exceptional drought conditions.  That night, I wanted to sleep standing up.  There is no adjective in the English language that can accurately describe my fear of scorpions.

This is basically a fear of the unknown, since I have never in my life been stung by a scorpion.  They just look prehistoric and deadly, so they scare me.

*Side Note: Scorpions will sting you.  They do not bite.  I hate it when people say "A scorpion bit me on the bottom of my foot."  NO!  They have stingers.  Not teeth.  They may have teeth....I don't know.  I don't care! I am not going to get close enough to investigate.  Just get it straight people.  Scorpions sting... with venom.  And it hurts.

The last live scorpion I personally witnessed was in September 2010 at Evil Lynn's home. I was in flip flops, enjoying my seventh Southern Comfort & Diet Coke, taking a social break from the all girl Poker Tournament, when I saw the biggest prehistoric atrocity I've ever laid eyes upon, emerge from the space between two boards on the porch, and run straight for my vulnerable toes.  I think it was attracted to the freshly polished toe nails.  Who knew scorpions liked OPI's "I ate berries in the canaries"?

It spoke to me.  It did.  As it ran towards my big toe, it clicked in morse code with it's little pinchers... "I will get you my pretty! And your perfectly painted toes too." This is when I frantically began texting Shark to come pick me up.  He asked if I was knocked out of the poker tournament and I replied with a one word answer....


And Shark was immediately on his way.  So now, each night, I seal the dog door, refuse to sit in the chair by the dog door, because it is near the one spot where I am pretty sure a scorpion can enter the house.  I check the bed before I get in, and I sleep in short 2 to 3 hour increments because I have to get up, slip on flip flops and re-check the bed.

Once I am satisfied there is no immediate scorpion menace, I will eventually fall back to sleep.  This is soon to be interrupted by bad tattoo work.  I've repeatedly dreamed that I have offered my left arm as a drawing board for someone's ideas.  In both dreams, I have been unhappy with the work done and the fact that it more or less sleeved the entire arm and stretched down to the fingers.  I was horrified!  I love my tattoos, but I have them in spots where they can only be on display when I so choose.  Obviously I think highly enough of my tattoo artist to allow him to permanently alter my skins natural state for eternity.

So why would I be dreaming of such horrors?  When one gets new ink, this opens the door to a slew of other's horror stories.  Either that...or unsolicited sales pitches for someone else's tattoo artist.  This is often followed by the sliding up of a sleeve, or the lifting of a shirt, to expose a faded and often blurred monstrosity.  This also puts me in the position where I have to smile, nod, and politely utter "Oh my. Isn't that lovely?"  The next comment to come out of the unlucky individual's mouth is usually, "Yep! And my guy is so cheap!"

Hmm. You don't say....

An exterminator is scheduled to spray the house tomorrow afternoon.  This should alleviate my fear of the zombie scorpion apocalypse.  I don't know what I'm going to do about the tattoo dreams.  The jagged two toned and crooked angel wings are the worst.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Texts from the Bug, Vol. One

I have decided to start a blue entry.  These will be labeled, "Texts from the Bug".  They will be posted in blue. (Because that's her favorite color.) 

Sent July 1, 2011 at 9:47 P.M.

Dude! This really cute guy who looked like kirk hammett works at the walmart here and he was TOTALLY flirting with me!!