My wedding anniversary is coming up soon. I never forget, but clearly I have other things on my mind so it "momentarily slipped my mind." It sort of just hit me today that I need to make a run to Hallmark. Because my brain doesn't work normally, the remembrance of buying anniversary cards led me through a series of thoughts which ended with a review of those men in my life who brought me here... to the happiness I've found in my husband. Now that I have this blog, I wanted to take a minute to write an open letter to thank the guys I've dated/was involved with for so many things. So if you'll indulge me:
To Mr. GTL: I would like to thank you for making me realize sooner, rather than later that Italian men make shitty boyfriends/husbands. Although I was attracted to the fact you were tan in the middle of February and you drove a suped up ride, your priorities were literally gym, tan and laundry before it became a catch phrase. Make no mistake, we never did anything I wanted and most of all, it was your way or no way. FYI, seeing a grown man pout isn't sexy. It's a turn off. I'm not sorry that I didn't pick up the phone on the first ring or that I didn't call you back seconds after I received your voicemail. Thank you for being typical Italian. You wore it well.
To the Cop: You my friend played a very important role. My involvement with you taught me the signs to look for in a cheating spouse. The lies men tell to hide their infidelities and the denial their wives are in gave me more than just a glimpse into a failing marriage. I learned to differentiate between lies and the truth. Although I'm not proud of the role I played, the lessons you taught me were invaluable. Now that I'm married, I see why what we did was so wrong. I wish I was more mature at the time to realize it sooner. Because of you, I'm able to spot a cheat and a liar miles away--- even for my friends. Thank you from all of us.
To the Addict: I spent most of my twenties drinking and partying with the rest of my generation. I thought getting drunk and hooking up a la Jersey Shore was living the life. After dating you, I realized that I needed to find a man who DIDN'T share this philosophy. Nothing teaches you this lesson better than waking up in bed soaked with another person's urine. Your drinking and partying is what first attracted me to you, but in the end it's what caused me to leave you. I hope today you've joined a 12 step program because you needed help that I couldn't give you. Seeing you on the streets here is just as awkward as the morning I woke up cold and wet in my own bed..... Oh and another thing, you shouldn't try to hook up with one of my sorority sisters and think it won't get back to me. We have a bond, asshole.
To Douche bag: (I'll refer to him as DB to make it easier). DB, thank you, thank you, thank you for dumping my ass. It was the best thing you ever did for me. At the time, I was so overcome by grief I didn't see what a favor this was. For a long time, I judged a guy by his relationship with his mother. I thought if he was close to mom, then he'd treat me like a queen. Boy was I wrong! It's one thing to be close but to be shunned out of "mommy and me" outings was.... um, weird. You even made Oedipus look bad. "Cut the cord" brought on a whole new meaning. Today, I am married to a man that had NO relationship with his mother and I'm better for it. I never saw selfish behavior like yours before and although we are no longer in contact, I hear through the grapevine that you are still the same way. I was convinced for years that YOU were my type. My husband is everything you're not: loving, kind, generous and honest. The most important lesson you taught me? Well, that's simple. You don't need a Harvard degree to prove that you're an intellectual; sometimes a person is just smart without having to prove it.
Tomorrow I'll be married 4 wonderful years to an amazing man and I couldn't have gotten here without this (self imposed) abuse... so thanks to all of you.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Pet Peeves
I couldn't resist. So many of my pet peeves have been violated today that I just needed to vent about them. It's an act of self indulgence but I don't give a fuck. This shit really pisses me off. These are really in no particular order and I'll try to limit them. Seeing that I believe I'm perfect 99% of the time, I have a lot of complaints.
1. Holding the Door: Nothing incenses me more than a person who does not hold the door for you either because they a) don't see if someone is behind them or b) they see you but don't give a shit. How long could it possible take out of your super important day to hold to door on your way into work? Are you in that much of a hurry that the 2.4 seconds it may take could cut into your time of getting coffee, checking email and gossiping when you get the to office. This holds true for elevator doors.
2. The Nude Nylon Nightmare: if you are under the age of 50, there is absolutely no excuse for you to own a pair of nude/flesh colored nylons. in conjunction with this rule, nylons should NEVER be worn with open toe shoes of any kind. If you can't brave the cold on your toes, then don't wear the shoes because well, you look silly. The only exception to this, black fishnets with a peep toe and perfectly painted red toes-- a la 1940.
3. Red Sox fans: They are too ignorant to give credence too. I have many friends who are fans but having grown up a Yankees girl, my tolerance is low for any team that chants "Yankees Suck" no matter WHO they are playing on any given day. I love Boston, but I hate Massholes.
4.Don't Say "If you need anything, call me" if you don't mean it: This is the ultimate in being put on the "all set" list with me (more on that list in a future blog). I don't expect a great deal from my friends/family. Essentially, I follow the Christian thinking of do unto others. When my friends or family need something from me, I'm there for them. I wish I could say the same. Again, I've written about this here before and I've been forced to cleanse my circle of those who are too selfish to give a shit about anyone else but themselves and their drama.
5. Ignorance: If I hear "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" one more time, I may possibly punch someone in the face. It's hard, but I accept there are people out there who don't approve of being gay. I don't agree with them but they are entitled to their opinion as long as they don't present it as douche bags. I don't throw my politics in your face, so please do not throw yours in mine.
6. Being too opinionated: Yes, there really is such a thing. I know that I'm opinionated but I was raised right... I say that shit behind your back and not to your face so I won't hurt your feelings. My only example is once being told by a "friend" that if I was going to have an elective C-Section, what was the point of having a baby. What? Did I hear you right???? Yes, that's what she said. Apparently you get more points for having a baby vaginally. The most points you can attain is having a baby vaginally without any drugs whatsoever. To those women I salute you but I'm pretty happy to say I have no idea what labor feels like and my vajayjay never needed stitches and is the same size. Hmmmm..... what would you choose?
7. Jealousy: This is a pretty big one because I seem to face this consistently. It's not a "is she prettier" type jealousy. There are those in my life, not by choice, who feel as though they have every right to spread lies about my husband, my marriage and my personal life. Sure, we are all jealous by nature but there is a fine line between being jealous and being jealous and wishing ill will on someone. Clearly, the only reason for this is jealousy otherwise, why tell people I posted on Facebook that my marriage was in trouble? It's a blatant lie and forced me to re-evaluate my privacy settings. I've made my point with these people. They know it too. Don't fuck with me.
8. Football: I hate it's existence. I don't understand it and it needs to go. ....and that's all I have to say about that.
9.Self Righteous Italians: The Sopranos was a TV show and it was accurate. The Jersey Shore is a reality show and accurate. Get over yourself people. This is the majority of Italians. Whether you like it or not, this is who we ALL are deep down inside. I have a secret love of animal print, fur and all things that bling. I'm Italian. These shows don't make Italians look bad. Italians make Italians look bad. Being Italian is so much more than what you see on TV but the good parts aren't going to generate ratings people.... As my dad always said, there are two types of Italians: those who are and those who want to be. So true.
10. "Just relax": I hear this EVERY day in my life. I'm type A personality prone to panic attacks. This is not good advice. Actually, it just makes me want to hurt you so don't say it to me. This was especially awful advice when we were trying to get pregnant (note to readers- never share you are trying to get pregnant with anyone). Relaxing wasn't going to help with the fertility issues. Asshats.
Hmmmmm.... I'm sure there will be more at a later date but enjoy.
1. Holding the Door: Nothing incenses me more than a person who does not hold the door for you either because they a) don't see if someone is behind them or b) they see you but don't give a shit. How long could it possible take out of your super important day to hold to door on your way into work? Are you in that much of a hurry that the 2.4 seconds it may take could cut into your time of getting coffee, checking email and gossiping when you get the to office. This holds true for elevator doors.
2. The Nude Nylon Nightmare: if you are under the age of 50, there is absolutely no excuse for you to own a pair of nude/flesh colored nylons. in conjunction with this rule, nylons should NEVER be worn with open toe shoes of any kind. If you can't brave the cold on your toes, then don't wear the shoes because well, you look silly. The only exception to this, black fishnets with a peep toe and perfectly painted red toes-- a la 1940.
3. Red Sox fans: They are too ignorant to give credence too. I have many friends who are fans but having grown up a Yankees girl, my tolerance is low for any team that chants "Yankees Suck" no matter WHO they are playing on any given day. I love Boston, but I hate Massholes.
4.Don't Say "If you need anything, call me" if you don't mean it: This is the ultimate in being put on the "all set" list with me (more on that list in a future blog). I don't expect a great deal from my friends/family. Essentially, I follow the Christian thinking of do unto others. When my friends or family need something from me, I'm there for them. I wish I could say the same. Again, I've written about this here before and I've been forced to cleanse my circle of those who are too selfish to give a shit about anyone else but themselves and their drama.
5. Ignorance: If I hear "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" one more time, I may possibly punch someone in the face. It's hard, but I accept there are people out there who don't approve of being gay. I don't agree with them but they are entitled to their opinion as long as they don't present it as douche bags. I don't throw my politics in your face, so please do not throw yours in mine.
6. Being too opinionated: Yes, there really is such a thing. I know that I'm opinionated but I was raised right... I say that shit behind your back and not to your face so I won't hurt your feelings. My only example is once being told by a "friend" that if I was going to have an elective C-Section, what was the point of having a baby. What? Did I hear you right???? Yes, that's what she said. Apparently you get more points for having a baby vaginally. The most points you can attain is having a baby vaginally without any drugs whatsoever. To those women I salute you but I'm pretty happy to say I have no idea what labor feels like and my vajayjay never needed stitches and is the same size. Hmmmm..... what would you choose?
7. Jealousy: This is a pretty big one because I seem to face this consistently. It's not a "is she prettier" type jealousy. There are those in my life, not by choice, who feel as though they have every right to spread lies about my husband, my marriage and my personal life. Sure, we are all jealous by nature but there is a fine line between being jealous and being jealous and wishing ill will on someone. Clearly, the only reason for this is jealousy otherwise, why tell people I posted on Facebook that my marriage was in trouble? It's a blatant lie and forced me to re-evaluate my privacy settings. I've made my point with these people. They know it too. Don't fuck with me.
8. Football: I hate it's existence. I don't understand it and it needs to go. ....and that's all I have to say about that.
9.Self Righteous Italians: The Sopranos was a TV show and it was accurate. The Jersey Shore is a reality show and accurate. Get over yourself people. This is the majority of Italians. Whether you like it or not, this is who we ALL are deep down inside. I have a secret love of animal print, fur and all things that bling. I'm Italian. These shows don't make Italians look bad. Italians make Italians look bad. Being Italian is so much more than what you see on TV but the good parts aren't going to generate ratings people.... As my dad always said, there are two types of Italians: those who are and those who want to be. So true.
10. "Just relax": I hear this EVERY day in my life. I'm type A personality prone to panic attacks. This is not good advice. Actually, it just makes me want to hurt you so don't say it to me. This was especially awful advice when we were trying to get pregnant (note to readers- never share you are trying to get pregnant with anyone). Relaxing wasn't going to help with the fertility issues. Asshats.
Hmmmmm.... I'm sure there will be more at a later date but enjoy.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Thought This Was the Easy Part????
She did it. She finished the entire treatment of chemo-radiation.We all had moments where we doubted she was going to continue but she did and I am proud of her. Dr. S told us the treatment would be a breeze but that wasn't the case AT ALL.
Now that she has finished, it's important her esophagus heals before the re-section surgery takes place. According to Dr.K, the radiologist, during the healing process, it will feel as if a sunburn was peeling. Sounds pretty painful and it is. Since she can't swallow pills, she's taking liquid morphine.... and EVEN THAT isn't helping. Mom will be the first to say she isn't the best with pain, but for morphine to not even touch the pain, there has to be something worse going on right? I'm not a positive person so of course I've decided the Cancer has spread and she is in pain from massive tumors taking over her entire body (even those the pain is localized). Logical assumption? Not at all. Typical for me? Absolutely.
To make things worse, I'm no longer in the house. This is starting to add to my anxiety and I have gone back to popping pills as if they were M&M's. Usually I call her at night, but the morphine makes her tired and she's sleeping so I've started calling her from work. BAD IDEA. Every time I talk to her, she cries. Her crying leads to knots in my stomach. I know, here I am bringing the focus back to me. But indulge for a moment--- It's getting harder and harder to be supportive and strong, when I'm too upset to deal with the reality of what is going on with her.
I have no idea what to say to her and whatever I do say, is the wrong thing. It's hard not to take it personally but I know that's what I need to do. Being in BDH ("Barbie's Dream Home") has brought such joy to me and my husband. I cherish moments where we are all sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning having breakfast but, there is that tiny guilt gnat gnawing at the base of my brain. The guilt that I shouldn't be happy.... that I should be there....
Clearly, I'm the worst daughter in the world right? (that's a rhetorical question, no comments please). I know that if I wasn't a mom, I would be there more for my mom. Even though she's sleeping most of the time, I know she appreciates the company. I guess it's obvious what I need to do here, I need to find a way to get there more often. I've been so wrapped up in my own life and BDH that I haven't done enough. Is it ever enough though? Will I ever not feel guilty?
So, if this was the easy part..... What's going to happen AFTER surgery? FML.
Now that she has finished, it's important her esophagus heals before the re-section surgery takes place. According to Dr.K, the radiologist, during the healing process, it will feel as if a sunburn was peeling. Sounds pretty painful and it is. Since she can't swallow pills, she's taking liquid morphine.... and EVEN THAT isn't helping. Mom will be the first to say she isn't the best with pain, but for morphine to not even touch the pain, there has to be something worse going on right? I'm not a positive person so of course I've decided the Cancer has spread and she is in pain from massive tumors taking over her entire body (even those the pain is localized). Logical assumption? Not at all. Typical for me? Absolutely.
To make things worse, I'm no longer in the house. This is starting to add to my anxiety and I have gone back to popping pills as if they were M&M's. Usually I call her at night, but the morphine makes her tired and she's sleeping so I've started calling her from work. BAD IDEA. Every time I talk to her, she cries. Her crying leads to knots in my stomach. I know, here I am bringing the focus back to me. But indulge for a moment--- It's getting harder and harder to be supportive and strong, when I'm too upset to deal with the reality of what is going on with her.
I have no idea what to say to her and whatever I do say, is the wrong thing. It's hard not to take it personally but I know that's what I need to do. Being in BDH ("Barbie's Dream Home") has brought such joy to me and my husband. I cherish moments where we are all sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning having breakfast but, there is that tiny guilt gnat gnawing at the base of my brain. The guilt that I shouldn't be happy.... that I should be there....
Clearly, I'm the worst daughter in the world right? (that's a rhetorical question, no comments please). I know that if I wasn't a mom, I would be there more for my mom. Even though she's sleeping most of the time, I know she appreciates the company. I guess it's obvious what I need to do here, I need to find a way to get there more often. I've been so wrapped up in my own life and BDH that I haven't done enough. Is it ever enough though? Will I ever not feel guilty?
So, if this was the easy part..... What's going to happen AFTER surgery? FML.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Shiny Happy People
As I have mentioned before, friends have always been my support system. For the most part, they are substitute brothers and/or sisters for me. I've never been part of a large clique and choose who I keep close to me very, very carefully. You can't pick your family but you can pick your friends, so why not make sure those you let in are the right ones?
Admittedly, I was different person before my father died. Some may disagree, but I was much more selfish then and it has nothing to do with maturing. I saw things more clearly after he was gone.... Things he used to say to me made more sense (ie, keep your friends close and your enemies closer--- ugh, so Italian right?). I tried to become a better person and I know I did. Over the years I relapsed.... Old habits die hard and no one can become perfect over night, even though I tried.
The people who are in my life now, have pretty much been around for the last 12 years or longer. I have these friends and I'm really not looking for anymore (which I try not to make obvious, but I know I do because I'm really not a nice person). All of the people in my life have one thing in common-- loyalty. I've kept them close to me because they were individuals I could count on when I needed them the most. I obviously, I have certain friends that I'm a bit closer too. One has been hanging around in my corner for 26 LONG years. Interestingly, she's an only child as well. Our childhoods were polar opposites but somehow, we are exactly the same in so many ways. She's surpassed the level of friend and has become family--- the perfect sister, in my mind but again, I chose her to be in my life (and vice versa). Big shout out to "Lilijohnson."
When my dad died, those people who were in my life showed their true colors. I cut many people out for shear disappointment of their behavior.... sad really. I still hold a grudge too (this is not because I'm an only child or a woman... but because I'm Italian. you don't fuck with respect, people). Some made the cut, and they are still dear friends of mine to this day.
With my mom's diagnosis, I was again surprised with the behavior of some friends. Of course we're older now with more responsibilities, but in today's world of technology, it takes mere moments to send an email, text, tweet, etc to see how my mom is or how I am. I'm not complaining though (karma, people)-- I'm using it as a segue to discuss one person who surpassed any expectations I may have had.
After I shared my mom's diagnosis with several close friends, via email, I received a remarkable response. I've mentioned this before, I'm not a crier but this one email made me teary. Since most of my friends are from college and law school, I'm miles apart from them.... which is heartbreaking. I don't like to mention names in my blog, so I won't, but her email to me brought back emotions (both good and bad) of a period of time where she and I were inseparable in one another's lives. When my father died, she was there with me days before the services, the days of the services and days after the services doing what she could to help me cope.
Her personality can only be described as sunny and during this "dark" period in my life, her email brought a light that I needed. She has (unknowingly) inspired me to stay strong and think positive. As I read her email, I had chills. It reminded me that no matter how far apart we may be, we'll always have a place in each other's heart. Sometimes, when you're sad, all you need is a little reassurance at how special you are to someone else.
Admittedly, I was different person before my father died. Some may disagree, but I was much more selfish then and it has nothing to do with maturing. I saw things more clearly after he was gone.... Things he used to say to me made more sense (ie, keep your friends close and your enemies closer--- ugh, so Italian right?). I tried to become a better person and I know I did. Over the years I relapsed.... Old habits die hard and no one can become perfect over night, even though I tried.
The people who are in my life now, have pretty much been around for the last 12 years or longer. I have these friends and I'm really not looking for anymore (which I try not to make obvious, but I know I do because I'm really not a nice person). All of the people in my life have one thing in common-- loyalty. I've kept them close to me because they were individuals I could count on when I needed them the most. I obviously, I have certain friends that I'm a bit closer too. One has been hanging around in my corner for 26 LONG years. Interestingly, she's an only child as well. Our childhoods were polar opposites but somehow, we are exactly the same in so many ways. She's surpassed the level of friend and has become family--- the perfect sister, in my mind but again, I chose her to be in my life (and vice versa). Big shout out to "Lilijohnson."
When my dad died, those people who were in my life showed their true colors. I cut many people out for shear disappointment of their behavior.... sad really. I still hold a grudge too (this is not because I'm an only child or a woman... but because I'm Italian. you don't fuck with respect, people). Some made the cut, and they are still dear friends of mine to this day.
With my mom's diagnosis, I was again surprised with the behavior of some friends. Of course we're older now with more responsibilities, but in today's world of technology, it takes mere moments to send an email, text, tweet, etc to see how my mom is or how I am. I'm not complaining though (karma, people)-- I'm using it as a segue to discuss one person who surpassed any expectations I may have had.
After I shared my mom's diagnosis with several close friends, via email, I received a remarkable response. I've mentioned this before, I'm not a crier but this one email made me teary. Since most of my friends are from college and law school, I'm miles apart from them.... which is heartbreaking. I don't like to mention names in my blog, so I won't, but her email to me brought back emotions (both good and bad) of a period of time where she and I were inseparable in one another's lives. When my father died, she was there with me days before the services, the days of the services and days after the services doing what she could to help me cope.
Her personality can only be described as sunny and during this "dark" period in my life, her email brought a light that I needed. She has (unknowingly) inspired me to stay strong and think positive. As I read her email, I had chills. It reminded me that no matter how far apart we may be, we'll always have a place in each other's heart. Sometimes, when you're sad, all you need is a little reassurance at how special you are to someone else.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mom's Super Powers
From as far back as I can remember, I thought my mom walked on water. She most likely would disagree based on my behavior from the ages of 13-20 but in actuality, that's a really small window of my life. Being an only child, she and I have always had this incredible bond. There are no words to describe it at all. I've tried to articulate my feelings but, the only people who understand are other only children. Of course, it's not necessarily the bond with their mom but they do have that bond with at least one parent.
No one, absolutely no one, can get to me like my mom does. Her ability to lay guilt on me is worthy of gold medal status. She can give me knots in my stomach based only on the tone in her voice. I can conjure up a whole scenario about why she may be upset with me and why the guilt trick is being pulled. The woman has a gift. A talent. The skill has been passed down for generations in my family. Some of us have an immunity to it, but sadly, I fall victim every time. Although I avow to never do this to my own daughter, it's inevitable because it's in the genes, as well as my ethic background. It's almost like my mom is a super hero with this unrivaled ability.
Don't get me wrong, my mom has many other amazing traits that outweigh this one. Throughout her struggle with treatment, I've realized how calm she is (99% of the time). I am a nervous wreck on chemo days. Perhaps she is as well, but she doesn't show it. I can't sleep the night before and it's pretty much the only thing on my mind until she calls me on her way home. My inability to hide anxiety is debilitating to say the least. There is no doubt in my mind she knows how upset I am, even though I struggle to hide it. Sitting at work, the time goes by so slowly until she finally calls. This week, I was at work, as usual and trying to focus when she finally called-- to tell me she was reading "Shit My Dad Says" on her Kindle while getting her treatment and was laughing out loud (I wonder how well that goes over at the Cancer Center). So, the good news is, she's laughing and is able to keep her mind off of what's really going on while I try to focus on my job.
Moving out of the basement has helped a great deal. I would have thought it would give me more anxiety not being there to watch every breathe she takes but it doesn't. Out of sight, out of mind. You see, I also have a super power-- I have an uncanny ability to just pretend bad things aren't going on... It's not really denial- it's just a purely erasing thoughts from my mind. Denial is completely different. This is a tactic I perfected when my dad was sick. It's a skill I have tried to teach others but, no one can master it.
The treatment is winding down now. Only one more chemo treatment to go and then the recovery period will begin before the surgery. I hope to be able to draw from her calmness to keep me sane. I don't blame my father for anything--- in my eyes, he was perfect-- but damn him for giving me the anxiety gene.
No one, absolutely no one, can get to me like my mom does. Her ability to lay guilt on me is worthy of gold medal status. She can give me knots in my stomach based only on the tone in her voice. I can conjure up a whole scenario about why she may be upset with me and why the guilt trick is being pulled. The woman has a gift. A talent. The skill has been passed down for generations in my family. Some of us have an immunity to it, but sadly, I fall victim every time. Although I avow to never do this to my own daughter, it's inevitable because it's in the genes, as well as my ethic background. It's almost like my mom is a super hero with this unrivaled ability.
Don't get me wrong, my mom has many other amazing traits that outweigh this one. Throughout her struggle with treatment, I've realized how calm she is (99% of the time). I am a nervous wreck on chemo days. Perhaps she is as well, but she doesn't show it. I can't sleep the night before and it's pretty much the only thing on my mind until she calls me on her way home. My inability to hide anxiety is debilitating to say the least. There is no doubt in my mind she knows how upset I am, even though I struggle to hide it. Sitting at work, the time goes by so slowly until she finally calls. This week, I was at work, as usual and trying to focus when she finally called-- to tell me she was reading "Shit My Dad Says" on her Kindle while getting her treatment and was laughing out loud (I wonder how well that goes over at the Cancer Center). So, the good news is, she's laughing and is able to keep her mind off of what's really going on while I try to focus on my job.
Moving out of the basement has helped a great deal. I would have thought it would give me more anxiety not being there to watch every breathe she takes but it doesn't. Out of sight, out of mind. You see, I also have a super power-- I have an uncanny ability to just pretend bad things aren't going on... It's not really denial- it's just a purely erasing thoughts from my mind. Denial is completely different. This is a tactic I perfected when my dad was sick. It's a skill I have tried to teach others but, no one can master it.
The treatment is winding down now. Only one more chemo treatment to go and then the recovery period will begin before the surgery. I hope to be able to draw from her calmness to keep me sane. I don't blame my father for anything--- in my eyes, he was perfect-- but damn him for giving me the anxiety gene.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Overwhelming Demand
I definitely try to lighten the blog a bit after a heavy post. You need to laugh. Laughing is so important when you are trying to survive watching a loved one fight cancer. I have a handful of people that I can count on to make me laugh--- laugh so hard that my sides hurt actually, so I needed to find joy in other ways. Recently, there has been a demand for a blog entry by a few people (I also have some anonymous followers). I'm going to write about a recent magical experience and it's going to make me look crazier than I already do... But you have to be able to laugh at yourself. It's a great way to forget the sadness for even a second.
No big secret, I love Donnie Wahlberg. I've loved him for 21 years-- which is longer than my own husband. I can't help it nor can I explain it. He's hot, yes, clearly... But he's also nice. Not, "I'm Getting Paid to Be Here" but genuine "I Love My Fans" nice. Unless you've met him, you probably won't believe this but forget being cynical and trust me on this one. I've met him more times than I can count. Anyway, my birthday and Donnie's birthday are close and he always has a party--- a BIG party. Of course it's not free, but when the opportunity presents itself, I jump on it. Luckily I have enough crazy friends I can call on to go with me.
Last year I entered a local radio contest and won the grand prize to attend his birthday party. Of course, I was live on the radio when I won and sounded like a complete asshole... but again, you have to laugh at yourself sometimes. At the party last year, I was lucky enough to score that birthday kiss.... after which I became mute in a creepy fan stalker way. I needed to redeem myself. I've had several chances to do that since, but nothing.
The day of the party, I told myself this encounter was going to be different.... I dressed up as if I was Cinderella going to the ball in a fun black satin cocktail dress. We packed up and drove to the casino. When I first arrived, I felt very arrogant about my VIP status until I saw the line----- and it was long. Really long. This definitely wasn't going to be as intimate as it was last year and I was visually assaulted by at least 50 girls. ....maybe even more. I'm still having nightmares. But, I put on a smile and stood in line in my 5 inch heels waiting for my moment of glory.
Once inside the lounge, I downed some Pinot Grigio-- liquid courage-- and awaited his arrival. I had a prime position to see him and couldn't wait. The seconds ticked away slowly. Then.... I heard the screams, the shrieks, the loud music and there he was. In all his amazing glory dressed to kill in a black suit. I believe there was a beacon of light above him as well--- ok, it was the club lights, but same thing. My heart started to race, birds were flying around my head and hearts were popping out of my eyes. There was only one thing left to do--- have another glass of Pinot Grigio.
The line to get my moment with him wrapped around the bar for what seemed miles but I relaxed while I drank my wine before I hopped into place. Finally, I was inches away from him and all ll I could think about was how I was an adult woman with a post graduate degree but couldn't form a complete sentence in my head. How suddenly I was catatonic (which for those who know me isn't easy). I knew this was my moment- I've fucked it up before and this time I wasn't going to do it.
This is when things get a little fuzzy.
I remember walking up to him and telling my girlfriend in front of me, "Tell him it was my birthday Wednesday." Next thing I knew, her hugging moment was over and I was standing there, looking at him and lost all sense of where I was. I think if I was a dog, I would have peed on myself from the shock and awe. He kissed me on the cheek, said, "Happy Belated, baby" in the sexy D-Dub back rub voice (those of you who know, know) and I believe I said thank you? The flash went off and that was it. I took a step, woke from my coma and thought fuck! With that, I spun around on my fuchsia Louboutins.
Through my fog, I recall taking his hand and saying, "I've met you so many times and can NEVER talk to you. I'm just in awe of you." Without missing a beat, he looked me up and down, looked into my eyes (sure, he had on aviator glasses but you know when this man is looking at you) and said, "Well, I have to tell you. I'm pretty in awe of you too." We ended with another big hug....l
....and that ladies and gentlemen, is hands down, the best line I've ever been fed by a guy. I heart him-- not just because he's hot but for all the smiles he gives me when I can't bear being an adult.
No big secret, I love Donnie Wahlberg. I've loved him for 21 years-- which is longer than my own husband. I can't help it nor can I explain it. He's hot, yes, clearly... But he's also nice. Not, "I'm Getting Paid to Be Here" but genuine "I Love My Fans" nice. Unless you've met him, you probably won't believe this but forget being cynical and trust me on this one. I've met him more times than I can count. Anyway, my birthday and Donnie's birthday are close and he always has a party--- a BIG party. Of course it's not free, but when the opportunity presents itself, I jump on it. Luckily I have enough crazy friends I can call on to go with me.
Last year I entered a local radio contest and won the grand prize to attend his birthday party. Of course, I was live on the radio when I won and sounded like a complete asshole... but again, you have to laugh at yourself sometimes. At the party last year, I was lucky enough to score that birthday kiss.... after which I became mute in a creepy fan stalker way. I needed to redeem myself. I've had several chances to do that since, but nothing.
The day of the party, I told myself this encounter was going to be different.... I dressed up as if I was Cinderella going to the ball in a fun black satin cocktail dress. We packed up and drove to the casino. When I first arrived, I felt very arrogant about my VIP status until I saw the line----- and it was long. Really long. This definitely wasn't going to be as intimate as it was last year and I was visually assaulted by at least 50 girls. ....maybe even more. I'm still having nightmares. But, I put on a smile and stood in line in my 5 inch heels waiting for my moment of glory.
Once inside the lounge, I downed some Pinot Grigio-- liquid courage-- and awaited his arrival. I had a prime position to see him and couldn't wait. The seconds ticked away slowly. Then.... I heard the screams, the shrieks, the loud music and there he was. In all his amazing glory dressed to kill in a black suit. I believe there was a beacon of light above him as well--- ok, it was the club lights, but same thing. My heart started to race, birds were flying around my head and hearts were popping out of my eyes. There was only one thing left to do--- have another glass of Pinot Grigio.
The line to get my moment with him wrapped around the bar for what seemed miles but I relaxed while I drank my wine before I hopped into place. Finally, I was inches away from him and all ll I could think about was how I was an adult woman with a post graduate degree but couldn't form a complete sentence in my head. How suddenly I was catatonic (which for those who know me isn't easy). I knew this was my moment- I've fucked it up before and this time I wasn't going to do it.
This is when things get a little fuzzy.
I remember walking up to him and telling my girlfriend in front of me, "Tell him it was my birthday Wednesday." Next thing I knew, her hugging moment was over and I was standing there, looking at him and lost all sense of where I was. I think if I was a dog, I would have peed on myself from the shock and awe. He kissed me on the cheek, said, "Happy Belated, baby" in the sexy D-Dub back rub voice (those of you who know, know) and I believe I said thank you? The flash went off and that was it. I took a step, woke from my coma and thought fuck! With that, I spun around on my fuchsia Louboutins.
Through my fog, I recall taking his hand and saying, "I've met you so many times and can NEVER talk to you. I'm just in awe of you." Without missing a beat, he looked me up and down, looked into my eyes (sure, he had on aviator glasses but you know when this man is looking at you) and said, "Well, I have to tell you. I'm pretty in awe of you too." We ended with another big hug....l
....and that ladies and gentlemen, is hands down, the best line I've ever been fed by a guy. I heart him-- not just because he's hot but for all the smiles he gives me when I can't bear being an adult.
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