Every time I go onto Facebook, it seems that some fool "friend" of mine is blathering about what he or she is thankful for this month. I suppose that this is due to Thanksgiving rolling around in a couple of weeks, but DEAR JESUS it is GRATITUDE OVERLOAD. I do not fucking care if you are thankful for your new four-wheeler, or your (3rd) wife, or your half a dozen redneck kids who all have different daddies. I DO NOT FUCKING CARE.
Which is why I hate November social networking.
Yeah, okay, so I've had a few blogs over the years near Thanksgiving that listed things for which I was thankful. But you know what? IT'S MY FUCKING BLOG AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT. Plus, my lists are interesting. They are not full of sweet, cuddly crap like kids and Jesus. We all know that Jesus doesn't like me-- he's just waiting on a killer moment to strike me down (no pun intended) so why would I start spouting religion come November? I WOULDN'T.
So, as the antithesis of all the pansy-assed, bullshit FB statuses my pansy-assed, bullshit "friends" keep throwing up every FUCKING DAY, here is the Thanksgiving Blog, come early this year.
SHIT FOR WHICH I AM THANKFUL:
1. Nutjobs I know: So I have this friend Mia, whom I met when I first moved to Suffolk. She was in this Mom's Group that I toyed with joining, before I realized that I'd rather slit my own throat and bleed out in the desert, letting a pack of wild jackals tear apart my bloody body than join a Mom's group. Mia and I kept up a bit via email and FB for a bit, before she kind of disappeared. And then, last week, she reappeared in my Inbox, to tell me that she was still around and thinking of me, though her family had moved to Newport News. Oh, and one more thing-- She's "no longer a Christian, but became a psychic... lol" WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? AND WHY ARE YOU LOLing? You can't just BECOME a psychic. And are Christians and psychics mutually exclusive (really, I'm asking, because I DO NOT KNOW)? But the important thing is what I gleaned from this whole situation-- I attract awesome (crazy) people.
2. My period. It was late this month. I'm NEVER late-- unless I am knocked the fuck up. And do you know what I would DO if I was knocked up (despite my tubal ligation)? I've covered this with you people before-- I would go to a bridge, slit my damn wrists, chug a gallon of bleach, and shoot myself in the head so that I would fall, backwards, over the bridge. BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT ANOTHER BABY. EVER. Babies are hard and frustrating and cannot discuss literature with me. They projectile vomit and explosively poop and CRY ALL THE DAMN TIME. Sure, they smell okay (sometimes) and are fun to dress, but I've got two, which is MORE THAN ENOUGH. I'm done (Mom, I hope you are reading this-- DONE AS HELL). Thank God I got my period yesterday.
3. Mad Madame Mimipants is my porky Yorkie whom I have had for eleven years. She does not come when called. She usually doesn't remember what "sit" means, and it took her two years to learn to do it in the first place. She is fat and lazy and spends more time snoring or looking at me with disdain than she does anything else. I can't get comfortable at night because she MUST sleep between my legs, which often means that I can't get comfortable. AND I ADORE HER. Maybe it's the excessive bitchiness and total disregard for authority. All I know, is that I am thankful to have my Mims. When B and I lived together but were not yet a couple, every time she got mad at him she would go to his room, climb up in the middle of his bed, and pee in it. I LOVE THE MIMS.
4. Dr. Skansi is a hyperactive, Croatian pediatrician who decided to start dabbling in psychiatrics. Somehow or another, she became my psychiatrist. She is crazy as all hell, and I adore her. We all know that I do not like people to touch me, and Dr. Skansi is well aware of this. Yet every time I visit her she grabs me and hugs me until I tell her to get off me. She tells me tales about Croatia, her children, and how all my problems would be solved if I put my children in daycare and pursued a career for myself, relegating them to second place. She has a valid fucking point. But, alas, I do not take direction well. The point is, Skansi and I have become buddies, and when I found out that she had no plans for Christmas, I invited her to my house for the holiday. WHY WOULD I INVITE MY PSYCHIATRIST TO A HOUSE FULL OF MY CRAZY-AS-FUCK FAMILY? Because I'm awesome. Do you know how FUN that would be? IT WOULD BE AWESOME. I hope she comes. I see institutionalization in the future for at LEAST two family members (myself not included).
5. B and I got a new mattress a few weeks ago. It replaced my twelve year old Serta pillowtop, which had seen better days (and worse husbands). This time we decided to invest in the highly touted memory foam shit in hopes it would help us both to sleep better, although I think we would both sleep better if B would just STAY ON HIS OWN FUCKING SIDE OF THE BED AND STOP SPOONING ME BECAUSE I GET OVERHEATED WHEN SOMEONE WRAPS AROUND ME LIKE AN OCTOPUS AND ANNOYED WHEN THEY ARE CONSTANTLY PUSHING MY HAIR OUT OF THEIR FACE AND I AM TRYING TO SLEEP. But, anyway. So we did our research and found our bed, purchased said bed and had it delivered and IT IS WONDERFUL. It's high and fluffy, and like sleeping on a cloud. I have no idea when he gets up to pee, he has no idea when I get up to wander the house and watch "Dexter" in the middle of the night, and everybody feels good come morning. I love my bed. If I wasn't a neurotic Gemini who can't sit still, I would lie in my bed all day, reading books and learning fluent Italian (not just "get-by" Italian) and eating bon-bons. Additionally, except for Hot Yard Man and that sailor I picked up last weekend in Portsmouth, B and I are the only ones who have ever slept in said bed. It makes it special. High five for new beds.
6. Amazon Prime is a lovely thing. I love books. Amazon has books. With Amazon Prime, you get free expedited shipping, which I also love. With a student account like B's William and Mary account (being a student and all) you are able to get Amazon Prime for a year for free. Our year just ended, but I must say, Amazon Prime and I made some lovely memories during that year. I miss that free expedited shipping. (On the bright side, now I must order at least $25 worth of books to get free shipping, so I often have to find "something else" to add to my order, which is never a bad thing.)
7. In the blink of an eye, we are gone. Gone from earth, from daily interactions in each others' lives, from our jobs, our communities, whatever. I have especially learned this during the past three years-- I lost my Dad when he died, I lost my E when she moved, I lost my friend Wilcox when he made a choice. What I am grateful for is resilience. Since losing Dad I have cried and starved and suffered and railed. Losing E has been more about a forlorn need for the close companionship of someone who isn't within reach. Wilcox was a piece of my heart, broken and gone. But the point is, I'm still here. I'm alive, and breathing, and laughing and dancing and swearing and living every single day. Sometimes it takes work. Sometimes it is fueled by fury or obstinance, but it still moves onward. I still keep going.
So, you see, I AM grateful. I may be complicated and frustrated and an array of other things at any given time, but I am grateful. I love my B. I love my kids. I love my home and my friends and my books and my awesome ability to keep on keepin' on (as my Daddy would have said). I am thankful to still have my Mom and my awesome brother and his wife. I have lost a Mo, but still have a Mims. I have burnt to the ground in grief and risen from the ashes.
I am grateful to be a Phoenix.