My husband decided he was going to pay out the ass for the Pay Per View for Wrestlemania.  Whatever, his choice.  We have 2 tv’s, I have another room that I can go and hide in. 

Then he decided he was going to invite people over.  Also fine, I suppose he does live here too and is in fact entitled to invite his friends over. 

The problem is, I had to clean.  Like a maniac.  So, I broke my back (along with some other things) cleaning the entire apartment yesterday.  I mean, I cleaned.  I dusted, scrubbed, shined, and even put things away instead of leaving them lying around.  There is not any dust anywhere in this place.  You could white glove it if you wanted to. 

I realize that an apartment full of men aren’t going to notice or even give a crap that I did any of this.  But, my own husband didn’t say a damned word when he saw what I did.  Nope, he just asked me what we were going to have for dinner.

He took me out for Mexican dammit.  I even got me a margarita out of the deal. 

So, here it is 5:30 pm on a Sunday and I guess Wrestlemania is supposed to start anytime now.  And I’m in our office, hiding.  Sure enough, no one has noticed how clean this place is.  Nope, they’re just being guys, completely oblivious. 

I love my life.

I promise, no more about the balconies.  It’s like a war over here, but one side doesn’t know that there is a war going on.  I’m going to let it go, until the weather stays warmed up and my cat goes into hiding because those little monsters are throwing stuff at my cat.

Really, I’m letting it go.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately.  Not that bad way that makes you want to curl up into the fetal position and not answer the phone.  The good kind.  The kind of thinking that when I look back at it, I can smile and remember something with such detail that I can recall how I felt at that time, what the smells were and so on.

Like, I remember late summer nights (or very early mornings) going to this little abodoned industrial road to watch drag racing.  My ex (the not so nice one) had a beautiful 1970 Monte Carlo.  It was a metallic baby blue with blue leather interior.  The motor was a 350 big block, with custom headers, glass packs and a bunch of other things that I can’t remember, but you could hear this car coming from 10 blocks away.  When he would drop me off at home (I was about 17 at this time) he would have to cut the engine about 2 blocks away and coast to my driveway.  Anyway, I remember going to watch these drag races at like 11 pm to about 3 or 4 in the morning.  It was always amazing to be standing there, just hoping that the cops wouldn’t show up.  You would see all of these amazing cars and then you would see a few that made you wonder what the hell that person was doing there, until you saw them race and realized that the beater they were driving was actually an 8 second car.  Things like that teach you to not judge a book by it’s cover.  I still love the smell of burning rubber (from the tires spinning out) and high octane gasoline (some of these guys were really serious about their racing).

I remember my very first concert.  Here’s where I’m going to be a little bit embarrassed, but it was a Poison concert.  And I went with my closest girlfriend at the time, and my dad.  My second concert was Aerosmith (also with my dad), my third was Metallica (with my ex and a bunch of friends).  I’ve been to a lot since those, I’ve seen Disturbed before they were famous and competing in a Battle of the Bands concert (I actually met the lead singer David Draimen after they performed, he’s actually a very nice guy, or was at the time.  I think he may have hit on me a little).  I dislocated my shoulder at a Pantera concert (mosh pits are dangerous places to be).  I think I gave myself whiplash at an Anthrax concert.  I busted my knee open at some punk concert that wasn’t even anyone who ever got record deals or became remotely famous, but I got pushed (the whole place was a mosh pit) and down I went and gouged my knee on something sharp.  I could tell you how those places were filled with cigarette smoke and everything in those places smelled like beer and outhouses (boys will pee anywhere when intoxicated). 

I may not always be proud of the things I have done in the past, but at least I have a flip side when I’m done feeling sorry for myself.  These memories to me are like a warm blanket, and I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

I’m not going to go on and on about being sick.  It isn’t worth it, and I know people who are having much bigger health problems than my (and excuse the gross-ness) phlegm fest.

I was so sick last week though, that I could do nothing other than take a shower in the morning and proceed to lay down on the couch the rest of the day.  Being home for an entire week when the weather outside is nice, well it’s like a form of torture.  It’s funny though that the week that I’m sick is the same week the kids attached to the balcony across from mine, are home from school for Spring Break.

I should probably have titled this entry Balconies part 2. 

So, these kids were home and I was home.  They spent a lot of time out on the balcony because heaven forbid one of the parents take their kids to the park that is less than a block away from here.  There is our apartment complex, the parking lot and then next to the parking lot is a small baseball field (good for running around in) and then the park next to that field.  I’m not a parent yet, so I have no idea what these parents were spending their day doing, I do know that the dad works most days.  But, I do know for a fact that at least one parent was home with the kids at all times. 

Anyway, back to the kids on the balcony.  The kids finally noticed that their Power Ranger was strapped to our balcony railing.  They (insert evil laugh here) spent the entire week trying to get either my or my husbands attention so that they could get the prisoner back. 

Just so everyone knows, I was having none of it.  The mom, to her credit, kept trying to tell them to stop throwing stuff over here then.  I loved that she did that.  Did it stop them though?  No.  Will I have more prisoners to string up by the time this next Halloween comes?  I’m sure I will.  Will they ever get the toys back?  A resounding hell no!

So, I’ve been sick.  I’m sorry I haven’t posted anything, but the days that my head didn’t feel like it was the size of the great state of Texas, I was coughing so hard that, well let’s just say that coughing led to much more unpleasant things.  The one thing I did manage to do, was read everyone else’s postings, and even if I didn’t comment I was laughing, cringing, reliving days of past and sometimes getting frustrated for you. 

But, I’m back-ish now.  I don’t feel great, as a matter of fact I feel like I’ve taken about 2 steps back here today, but at least the fever is gone.  I promise to post something substantial when I can think clearly and when something exciting actually happens to me. 

I’ve been doing a hell of a lot of complaining lately and I’m sorry for that.  I promise that at some point (once the PMS for this month has passed) I will attempt to return to funny.  But, until then, here I present this little nugget of information.

The balcony across from us is the place where stuff goes to die.  I’m sure of it.  The people who live in the apartment attached to this balcony use it as a storage area, I think.  There is painting stuff from 2 years ago, a grill that doubles as a bird house, and there used to be a bed frame out there. 

The grill is actually funny (ok, funny to me).  Every year, the guy who lives there comes out and cleans out the grill.  By cleans, I mean that he kicks the bird nest out and then closes the lid again.  The birds only take this as a temporary eviction.  There used to be a bowl from the one of two times that I have seen the grill actually being used for a grill.  I think it was moved to inside the grill, and the birds must be living in it by now.

But, it is not the adults owners of this balcony that I really take issue with. 

From the day we moved in (about 4 years ago) the kids who live in the place across from us have been throwing crap on our balcony.  The hubs and I were pretty good about it at first.  At first there was charcoal (weird since the grill is a gas one), then candy (still in the wrapper), and then toys started to show up.  There is a hostage hanging from our railing and he is the largest one yet.  It looks like one of those Power Ranger action figures, and it’s about 10-12″ tall.  At first I had him propped up against the railing, to make it look like he was in jail.  But, this past Halloween the hubs and I were decorating the balcony (there is usually a contest, and Halloween is my favorite holiday) and he decided to string that sucker up.  He is hanging upside down and his arms are spread.  Think of Jesus on the cross, but with a Power Ranger, and (I’m so going to burn in hell for this) hanging upside down.  The hubs went to cut him down after Halloween and I told him not to, I fully intend on making a sign that says “Trespassers Beware.” 

It’s funny, because since doing that, those kids haven’t thrown a damn thing on our balcony.  On the downside, I’m starting to think that other people in the complex think we are some kind of Satan worshippers. 

I went to Marshall’s this weekend.  I decided that I needed/wanted a new purse (could I possibly be anymore of a girl?). 

I’m standing there admiring a purse and I obviously wasn’t moving quickly enough because some chick comes darting past me with her shopping cart.  I had moved out of her way, but in the process she had stopped right in front of me and grabbed the purse that I had been looking at.  She picked it up, looked at it and then threw it into her shopping cart.

I’m relieved and disappointed. 

Now, because of her certainty, I want the purse.  And of course it was the last one. 

May the hunt commence.  Looks like I’ll be going to a different Marshall’s today.

I’m going on a rant, try to bear with me.

I love the mall, and I hate the mall.  My small (almost infinitesimal) social phobias tend to keep me out of the mall, but sometimes ya just gotta go.  I had to go this last week because I had a bridal shower to go to.  Turns out they frown upon showing up empty handed.  Our local mall has a Bed, Bath and Beyond in it, and as anyone who has ever heard of wedding registry knows it is one of those places to register at.  It’s like the poor man’s Tiffany’s, of you know, home crap.

I would say that I have road rage, and anyone who knows me and has ever been in a car with me while I’m driving (and occasionally as a passenger) would agree.  I have gotten out of my car 3 times to yell at people, I have tailgated people when they aren’t going fast enough, and more than once I have changed my destination of choice, to follow someone who has blown a stop sign (I’m curious about what the hurry was that caused them to almost run smack into me, at least 2 times someone has been on their way to Starbucks).  People and their stupidity once they enter their car keeps me in a constant state of wonderment and fascination. 

So, I’m on my way to Bed, Bath and Beyond when it almost happens again.  Some idiot blows the Stop sign he had, and then proceeded to flip me off and (I could just barely make this out, I’m not so good at lip reading) call me a Stupid Bitch.  Oh, that put me in a great mood and really made me want to go into the mall.  I love wedding shopping when I’m in a pissy mood.

There are 6 entrances to this particular mall.  I chose one that had a light at it so that when I came into the mall, I would have the right of way.  Right of way is important to me since I have road rage issues.  At my chosen entrance I had the right of way, and the people to the left andthe right of the entrance have stop signs.  The asshat in question blows the stop sign.  This has happened before at this damned mall, and that guy followed me around the parking lot so that he could continue to yell at me and call me stupid and swear at me. 

I take issue with people who do this.  I may have road rage; which means that I generally speed (I have had more than 2 speeding tickets and many more warnings for this same offense.  I was even taken into custody once by the police for drag racing.) but I am not one of those people who doesn’t stop at the signs and lights.  For the most part I obey traffic laws, seat-belts have saved my life.  I also like my license and enjoy being in possession of it.  I don’t want to have it revoked or have to go every fricken year to get it renewed because I have too many marks on my record.  So, while I’ll never be able to say that I’m a great driver with an impeccable record, I can say that I haven’t been involved in too many accidents but none of them was my fault (I have the police reports and insurance reports to prove it!). 

Now I’m going to make a plea.  If you happen to be one of those people who go through any kind of traffic signal (unless of course you are like 200% sure that absolutely no one is around, not that that is an excuse either) please think of the person who you may almost hit.  Do you know for a fact that they are alone in that car?  Do you know that they don’t have a child or infant in that car?  How would you feel if someone did that to you?  Is there really someplace you have to be so urgently that you can’t stop for just, I don’t know, 5 seconds?  I’m not saying don’t speed, this pot can’t call any kettles black on that count, just be careful.  Please.

It is that time of year again for those who live on the Southside of Chicago (or in Chicago in general).  You know what day I’m talking about.  The one day out of the year where public drunkeness is encouraged and all can get their drink on.

That’s right, the Southside Irish Parade!

It was moved up this year due to the fact that the Sunday before St. Patrick’s Day (when the parade is usually held) is Palm Sunday this year.  Although I think it would be hilarious to go to church to recieve your palms for the day and then go out and get completely trashed at a parade.  Or even better, go to the parade, get wasted and then attend church.  Oh how the hilarity would ensue. 

I love this parade, it’s like the Mardi Gras of Chicago.  I can’t wait.

 You have to love the annual coloring of the river too!

 Sorry, I really love it when they dye the river.

Some days I wake up, and I wonder what the point is.  I don’t have a job, I’m a social retard and I’ve pretty much abandoned the friends I had made while working at the library or maybe I made it so that they abandoned me.  I don’t blame them for this, it was like I needed out of the life of hell that I had created for myself while working there.  I regret my choices and unfortunately there is nothing I can do to fix the mistakes that I have made.

Some days I wake up in the morning and I just want to cry; and nine times out ten I actually do.  This actually happens more often when I’m taking a shower.  I guess I feel better knowing that in the shower you can’t see the evidence that my emotions got the best of me.

Some days I wake up and I’m just so angry.  I can’t explain why I’m angry, but I feel the rage inside me take over.  I get mad at my dad for leaving.  I get angry at my mom for putting up with crap from a man who was so selfish.  I stay mad at my dad for his drinking, and sometimes I think that he deserves the diabetes he has now because it means he can’t drink the way he used to and therefore can’t emotionally hurt someone else the way he emotionally hurt my mother. 

I get angry at myself for staying in a relationship where I was a victim for so long and even though it was over 10 years ago that it happened I can’t help but be reminded of it when I least expect it.  I get mad at my ex for putting me in that position; I had always thought myself stronger than that.  I get mad at myself for what I did to get out of that relationship, but I know what I had to do was to save myself.  Again, I regret the choices I made and I hate knowing that there is nothing I can do to make it better.  But, and I know this is wrong, I feel vindicated because he finally repeated the actions on someone else.  He finally hurt her the way he hurt me and now all the people who thought I was a liar… well they know the truth.  I wouldn’t have wished this on her in a million years, I don’t hate anyone that much, but at least now she knows why I did what I did.

At least when I wake up feeling this way, I know that I’ll feel better tomorrow.  I just wish that until tomorrow came, I could let go of the past.