Feed the Beast.

Feed the beast (as found on UrbanDictionary): to send a high-maintenance partner a text message in order to keep them sweet and avoid them getting upset that you are ignoring them.

Similar to a feeding a tamagotchi, you send these texts to keep the relationship alive.

A: You coming to the pub mate? 

B: Yeah, of course. One minute though, I just gotta feed the beast first.


I do this with Mike.  I don't think feeding the beast is a bad thing and I will go way beyond texting in my efforts. I will feed that beast, stroke that beast, surprise that beast more than once a day with gratifications of an oral nature...whatever I need to do to keep that beast happy and our relationship alive.  Why?  Because I love him and he is a good man.  He deserves it.  This is not a one-sided gesture, either.  Oh, no.  He feeds my beast all the time.  
Even when he's tired and doesn't want too. :)


Take this weekend, for instance.  I am headed on a mini vacation with Sailor Girl and Young 'n' Sassy (I gotta come up with a better name).  There will be mountains.  There will be ocean.  There will be a drunk picture or two as well, I'm afraid.  The getaway is much needed and Mike was gracious enough to offer to watch the kids while I go.  He rocks my socks.  He is amazing and wonderful and everything that a man should be.


He taught me how to play Pai Gow poker a few weeks ago while his parents were in town for his oldest son's graduation.  His mom loves the game and he knew that we would be playing it at one point.  Since I'm not much of a gambler and I hate having to count to 21, it's pretty much perfect for me.  I can sit and drink for free, the game gets more fun the drunker you get, you can interact with other people, and if you can't tell what cards you have because you're seeing 14 of them instead of 7, the dealer and other players can actually help you.  I figure with my love of Asian food of all kinds, Buddha, giving massages with happy endings, and now Asian games, I'm that much closer to becoming an Asian.  Something tells me I won't get any complaints about that.  My next vehicle will be a drift car.  Or a rickshaw.  I haven't decided.


Things became more official with he and I over the weekend.  It was the next step in becoming officially official, say...in October of 2012.  It was a few months ahead of schedule, but what is a few months anyway?  I am happy about it, he is happy about it, the kids are happy about it.  It's all good.  It's even good when I start craving chocolate and become Medusa for a week or so every month, which in itself should seal the deal (that, and when he told me to think of all the tattoos I could get with the money we'd be saving).  Before we know it, this might be me!

I don't fucking think so.

I Think It's Gonna Be a Great Day!

I was in the grocery store this morning getting ice cream for my company's monthly pot luck.  I love the grocery store early in the morning, when most of the lights are still off and the stock boys are out...it's quiet and soothing.

I got what I needed.  (Random rant: Seriously, when the hell did it become necessary to charge almost 6 fucking dollars for a carton of ice cream??!!)

At the register, someone before me had left a bag of celery and grapes.  I considered keeping it, but being at the self checkout, I would have ended up having to pay for it because the whole system trips out if items are left on the little bagging area before it's been scanned.  I handed it to the attendant, with a, "Someone left this behind".  Yes! Took care of my good deed for the day!  I was thinking that it, indeed, was going to be a great morning.  It had nothing to do with the gigantic skinny vanilla latte that I had been sipping on since 7am. (not entirely, at least)

I was on my way out, when I passed a boy who was standing alone at the claw machine.  He looked back at me and screamed, "LOOK!! I GOT IT!".  And he had.  There was large alien-looking stuffed animal dangling from the claw.  I didn't know how long he had been standing there or how many of his quarters it had taken to get the prize, but I felt the need to indulge him anyway.
Me:  "That's AWESOME!"
Boy:  "And isn't it adorable too?!"
Me:  "It sure is! Those are SO hard to win!"

That kid was grinning from ear to ear.  He's gonna be talking about that damn stuffed animal all day long.
I'm so nice sometimes.
Where was the kid's mom??  I have no idea.  He was probably about 15 and so packed full of redbull at 8am that he didn't even know where HE was.

It should be the simplest things in life that amuse us all.  Like the first day of summer vacation, being at the grocery store early in the morning, being highly caffeinated, and winning adorable stuffed animals out of claw machines.

This Animal is Domesticated.

I get excited about going home, popping open a bottle of wine, cooking dinner in the kitchen with Mike, getting on a treadmill, doing yoga in the living room, and sitting next to him on the couch while watching "So You Think You Can Dance".  He watches it with me and enjoys it.  Plus I get nice little kisses on the neck and lots of snuggles and shit.  This pretty much makes him amazingly awesome in my book.
Tonight, he is helping me make a middle eastern feast (which is going to be fucking fantastic) and we are making our own tahini and hummus in our food processor! It's sickening to a certain extent! As is my use of exclamation points!!

I am domestic.
And I love it.
All I'm missing is a really cute apron.  And maybe some khaki capris...and a mini-van with a soccer ball sticker on the back.  I'll just stick with the apron.

P.S. - I am totally disgusted with the lack of pictures of chickens in aprons on the internet. I'm supposed to be able to find anything on this bitch.

Alone Time - Chicken Style.

I think this song is sweet, but this video really glamourizes women's alone time.  Does he really think we drink, then slide down the hallway in our socks like Tom Cruise?  He did get a couple things right, though.  I totally paint my toes, especially since I bite my nails and there is also some extra-special alone time activity on occasion...if you catch my drift.  Don't get me wrong, I would LOVE for my nights to involve sinking into a bubble bath.  I'd have to have a bathtub for that, though.  (Note for to-do list: Get a house with a huge bathtub in the master bath)

I need alone time.  I always have.  When I was little, I used to stay up until the wee hours of the morning with all the books I owned laid out on my bed.  I'd read, I'd build things with them, I'd just spend some time in my head...not having to interact with anyone.  

Last night I had a little of that...except it kind of looked a little like this:

Fresh faced, nerdy, still bored, and still not sleepy.

Yep.  I take pictures of myself sometimes when I'm alone.  Gorgeous, right? I also stalk people on Facebook that I know.  Then I stalk people on Facebook that I sort of know but maybe am not friends with.  Then...I stalk people I don't even know.  If it gets to a point where you don't recognize anyone in the pictures you're looking at...it might be time to stop.  Just a word of advice.  What else do I do? Let's see....I drink beer, I eat things that are not necessarily good for me, I listen to girly music, I always think about reading but hardly ever do, I walk circles in my house bra-less, I look at my closet and tell myself I need to clean it out then I turn around and continue my aimless, bra-less, circles...

It's exciting stuff. It really is.  Sometimes girls just need time alone to do stupid girl stuff, without their man getting some weird look on their face like you're a crazy lunatic walking around with blue clay hardening on your face, half naked, and lost looking.  Mike is going to be moving in and around a lot more often than he already is.  It really doesn't freak me out as much as he thinks.  He is extremely understanding (when he wants to be) and I know I'll still get the time I need...even if I have to kick him out of the house and tell him to go play poker for a few hours.  Or, if he doesn't give it to me, maybe down the line I'll have a blog with pictures of him with clay on his face.  Either way, I win.

"I Know A Guy"

Those are some of my favorite words, especially this week.  If you're a resident of Las Vegas, you'll hear that phrase spoken to you more than once during your stint in this great city.  I realize that most places are probably like this, but somehow, those words are like the heartbeat of this town.  As big as it is, and with as many transients as it has, it really is a close-knit community.  Everyone knows somebody and the shadier the business is that you need to take care of, the better.  Maybe it's our mob roots or something...but there is someone for everything.
In one conversation today, I was able to find a guy that can give me a passing smog for registration (for a fee of course) and obtain the inventory to a tow yard, that is owned by someone I know, that will give me a killer deal on a car for Mike and a , second, more gas efficient car for myself if I want it.  That's what I'm talkin' about right there, baby.  I love this town.

All you gotta do is speak up.  Talk about yourself and what you need.  Someone within earshot knows a guy.
Hell, I might even know a guy or two.

Damn, I love this town.

Some Chickens Should Probably Be on Zoloft.

I had a rough day.  I was all set to vent about it here, say a few rants about my significant other, and get out all the anger and frustration I was feeling all day long.  I'm over it now.  Granted, I've still got a lot of things going on in my head, and I wish that Mike would not automatically assume that anything that puts me in an off mood is about our relationship.  We argued practically all day today and most of last night about whether or not I needed space.  He's trying to spend less time with me because he thinks that is what I want or need and I stubbornly said that he was wrong about a million times.  He was taking it a little to the extreme, though, to the point that we wouldn't even be spending nights together anymore (and yes, the fact that it would mean we wouldn't be having sex crossed my mind).

So, I'm sitting here in my chair in my dark room with one candle lit. Honestly, this is a miracle in itself, because this chair is usually covered in laundry - either folded or unfolded...or both.  The house is completely silent.  I don't have to converse with anyone.  I don't have to go to bed because I want to snuggle with Mike before we go to sleep.  I don't remember the last time I had this.  I can just sit here and be in my own head...and I'm realizing that on some (very tiny, minuscule) level that Mike was right.  I know in my heart of hearts that I don't need any less time with him, but I definitely needed some quiet.  Some "me time".  I feel like I have hundreds of things on a very small plate that I am worried about.  I get overwhelmed easily most of the time.  Being alone helps me hear MY voice and get mentally organized.  God, I feel so unorganized...so reactive.  I am the human version of (pardon the pun) a chicken running around with its head cut off.  Circle after circle...squawking away...running into things...making a lot of noise but not really accomplishing anything.

Somehow I need to get over myself and learn to recognize when I need that alone time...and ask for it.  I also need reassurance (through action, not words) that Mike will not get upset and take it to heart if I do need it.  It doesn't mean that I am having any kind of second thoughts about us or where we are headed.

Tomorrow I begin the task of my personal to-do list.  It has nothing to do with any kind of goals that I am trying to set for myself.  Just run-of-the-mill (sort of) everyday tasks that adults have to deal with that I am totally slacking on, yet I continue to worry about.

1. I have to get my truck re-registered. No big deal. I just have to make sure I can get the illegal smog from the guy I got it from last year, pay out my ass for it, and truly...I need to have this done by Friday morning preferably.  Then I have to go to the DMV no later than Saturday morning and hopefully register my truck without any problems.  All while trying to not miss any of my 40 hours of work.  Plus, I do not need another reason for the police to pull me over.

2.  The other reason police would pull me over: an unpaid ticket that went to warrant.  It's a shitload of money to pay off.  I'm tired of being afraid to drive anywhere in the vicinity of a police officer.  I see police and my heart literally palpitates.  I shake.  I was informed that in order to renew my license (which has to be done by my birthday), I have to take care of this issue.  Why?

3. My license is suspended. Yep. I'm a walking driving criminal.  Here's the best part!  After I take care of all the ridiculous fines, in order to get my license back, I have to retake my driving test.  I'm 31 years old and I have to retake my driving test. That makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

4. I've decided to finish what I started 2 years ago and go back to massage school.  (My mind keeps telling me that something is going to happen, it's going to get fucked up, and I'm not going to be able to finish...just like last time) I now have to find time to get my grant paperwork done, call the school and probably go in for some meetings with my registrar.  All while trying to not take time off work because my vacay time is negative, because the brother to the above warrant had me in jail about a month ago for several days.

5. Which makes me worry that I might not have enough vacation time to take the vacation that I am supposed to take with Mike and the kids at the end of July.  We're going to Utah for a long weekend to drive Mike's youngest son Adam back home and to get away.

6. Which makes me worry about the fact that I am going to have Adam and Mike in my house for a few weeks.  Not because I don't want them staying here, but because I want to make sure everything is perfect for Adam and that he is comfortable.  Then I wonder if the kids are going to get along...

DL is suspended because I have a warrant.

8. I need brakes on my truck.  BADLY.  By now I probably need brakes and rotors.  I need to pay my fix-it guy to do this.  I need to have said money to pay said fix-it guy. I need to have one day out of one weekend that is not scheduled, in order to have this done.

9. Oh yeah...along with all of that, I'm planning a wedding in my head.  Yep. In my head.  I don't have a ring yet.  There is a date and venue picked, though. lol. And a wedding dress.

So, while I was stressing over some stuff today, Mike was thinking that it has everything to do with our relationship and whether or not I want him around...which sent me into full on freak out mode.  So bad that I almost cried at work out of sheer frustration.  I do it to myself.  

I seriously cannot believe that I haven't put myself in a loony bin by now.