You're a mean one, Mrs. Chicken...

There have been crazy things happening this week.  I blame it on the full moon/lunar eclipse/winter solstice combo.  Mike doesn't believe me.  I'm happy today, for reasons I'll get into, but ever since let's say...Sunday, I've pretty much felt like the Grinch.  Not because I was hating on Christmas.

I have generally been in a cranky sort of mood for no reason what-so-ever.  In fact, Mike is this cute cuddly little baby with a big head kissing all over me, the green ugly monster with the heart that is two sizes too small and whose soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots.  Cute and sweet, isn't he? (judging by the pink on the socks, I'd say this baby is a girl, but whatever)  Mike loves me in spite of myself, which always seems to hit me over the head like a ton of bricks.  He loves all of me.  The cranky, unemotional, do what I say and keep your mouth shut, I love you but I'm glad you're going home, burping, stressed-out, inattentive, quiet, bottling up her feelings me that I let out every so often (or on a daily basis, depending on who you ask).  Especially when the moon is full and the world is swirling with weird ju ju.  He hasn't been himself either and our communication has been so-so.  I think he may have needed a little more attention than normal and my mood wasn't allowing me to see that. 

All I really saw was this. He's choking the shit out of me, isn't he?? No. Not really. I don't think he was being as clingy as he thought.

He is awesome and for whatever reason, our moods were not meshing well.  I guess I was feeling like I wanted some alone time.  He was supposed to come over Monday, but because of an emergency, he wasn't able to.  I don't think I was glad, per se, but he picked up on the fact that I wasn't extremely upset.  He was a little hurt by that.  We had a tiff.  Anyways...I'm feeling a lot less Grinch-like today...I love him, he loves me, blah blah blah...we're all good now.  Except, he's leaving for Utah for the weekend and needs to get laid before (it's so cute that he won't just come out and say "do me"), but I'll take care of that tomorrow! Hehehe.

 
That whole weirdness between Mike and I was only a part of the craziness that has ensued this week.  It's been raining out here for days.  Rain in the desert makes for crazy drivers and bitchy people.  You would think, with most of the people here being implants from somewhere else, that they would know how to drive in the rain...evidently they forget as soon as they enter the Las Vegas valley.  My truck broke down yesterday morning.  Luckily, it was only a serpentine belt, didn't cost me a whole butt-load of money, and I had many people that helped me out when I needed it.  I still have Christmas shopping to do, but I'm not stressed out about it.  I do my best under pressure and I'm convinced I will get it all done by Christmas Eve.  I wish I had Mike's gift ready so he could take it with him to Utah...maybe I can get it done tonight if the weather isn't too bad.  We'll see.  A friend at work was an emotional wreck yesterday because her friends mother died suddenly.  All these issues, including my truck, are nothing I have come to realize.  Yesterday, two of our fellow Castlettes lost most or all of their belongings to flooding.  They work for our other office in Mesquite, UT. One of our ladies lost her home completely.  A levy broke and her house, with everything in it including Christmas presents for her grandkids and personal belongings, were swept away.  Another's house was flooded, but she was able to save some of her things.  Hearing stories like this about people you actually know puts things into perspective.  I have so many things to be thankful for in my life.  And I am so lucky that things are going well for me.
Lastly, right in the middle of my stressful day, I got a surprise package from my grandmother.  Remember me saying that I wanted to collect odd/creepy Santas?  Well, she sent me one and it is AWESOME.  She also sent me a magnet for my fridge.  It reads: S.L.U.T.S - Southern Ladies Under Tremendous Stress
It's great, came at the perfect time, and just like she says, it's totally me.  My grandmother thinks I'm a big slut.  So what!  She's right.

Thought Stew: Simmering Bits of Randomness

I woke up wanting to write this morning.  I feel like I've lost steam lately and my blogs have been mediocre at best.  Here are some chunky bits that have been simmering in the cauldron of my mind:

Warning: The following subject matter may be uncomfortable for certain male subjects.  "Girly Talk" in progress.
There is a reason that Brazilian waxes are called Brazilians - in my case it is because I would literally be getting rid of a rain forest in said area.  You can tell how much a woman (mainly of the single variety) is having sex by how well she is groomed.  Not only just having sex, but thinking about sex.  I change my opinion...this goes for all women, as I am not just talking about the bikini area.  If a woman, married or not, has not shaved her legs or has thought to herself, "well...I could probably go one more day without shaving under my arms...nobody is going to see anyway", she is not even remotely thinking about getting laid.  There is also something about the chill in the air and the beginning of pants season that brings this on as well, I think.  I was having a little time with myself last night (yes. I mean masturbating. everyone does it and if they don't, then they should.) and I was like, "what the fuuuuuck!".  How did I not notice that this was going on?  Have I been that distracted?  When was the last time I actually took the time to make sure I was all pretty and stuff down there?  When was the last time I thought about sex??  I can probably reference my blog or my Facebook page to answer that question, but seriously....the term "out of control" comes to mind.  Let's just say I took care of the situation, in more ways than one.  Speaking of Brazilian waxes, I've always wanted to get one.  There is a place near my work and my home called The Pretty Kitty...I just love that name.  If I can get a tattoo, I can certainly handle hot wax in my genital area.  I think.

Next subject.

This picture freaks me out a little.  I love it.  I hate that holidays are so commercialized now.  Why can't we go back to this kind of Halloween?  Where scary was the point, not dressing up as a fucking Power Ranger or Hannah Montana!  These kids would scare the shit out of me if they came to my door for candy.
I was also reminded by Mr. Amazing that Christmas is around the corner, while we were speaking of commercialized celebrations.  Thank you, Mr. Amazing.  Thoughtful gifts are what I am all about, not how much things cost.  I am not very materialistic by nature either, so it pains me when my kids make out Christmas lists that include ridiculously expensive things.  I have no problem bringing their little heads out of the clouds and telling them there is no fucking way they are getting every single game system, video game, Ipod, computer, really cool toy that does a million things that they will play with for a week then throw into the bottom of their closet with the rest of the crap they've ever gotten on that outrageous list.  Be glad I am not knitting you homemade sweaters (which I would totally do if I could knit) and giving you stockings full of granola and certificates stating that there is now a star with your name on it.  Lets just go look at some really cool lights on a stranger's house and call it a great day, ok?  And no, I'm not putting the "Christ" back in Christmas.  (Holy shit.  Maybe I should change my name to Scrooge.)  We'll save this rant for December.

Speaking of Mr. Amazing, we have a little movie date tomorrow, which I am ecstatic about.  A scary movie and some snuggling on the couch? Perfection.  We talked last night on the phone and I still find it great that for two introverts, we sure do find a lot to talk about with each other.  He makes me smile.  I read his blog and I am inspired.  Yet he calls me Muse.  Oh...and he already said that he is my bitch.  Score!  He better be glad I am not a girl that will completely take advantage of that (I only will a little).

Lastly, the hammer has come down at work.  We are no longer allowed to Facebook, play games, etc while at work.  This also includes blogging, I'm sure.  Sssshhhh...don't tell anyone.  I have to fight the boredom somehow!  It hasn't been a huge issue yet, but I'm sure it will become one.  I have been piggybacking off my neighbor's wireless and all of a sudden it is secured again.  Now that I am without internet at home (unless I break down and buy my own, but who wants to do that?) and I am not able to go on Facebook at work, major withdrawals will ensue.  I also received, in a addition to the mass email that was sent to everyone, my own little personal email regarding tattoos in the workplace.  All of a sudden, they aren't ok.  My clothing and style needs to be more "work appropriate" and cover my ink.  I sooo wanted to tell them to fuck off, but as they ("they" being "the man") so eloquently put it, there are plenty of people out there that will gladly do whatever the fuck the bosses want and conform as much as necessary just to have a job.  School beckons.  It is screaming for me to come back.  I need to get over my fear of rejection and just email the counselor to ask if they will have me.  The worst thing that would happen is that I would have to go to a different (less adequate) school...which I really don't want to do.  I want to go to one of the best ones in the country, dammit.  Regret #1,341: Dropping out of school last year.  I will make it right, go back, work for myself, heal people, teach people how to heal others, and get as many tattoos as I damn well please.  The End.