And so we move on.

So, just when I recommitted myself to my home here, the universe decided to throw the proverbial poo in the fan and I had to take an unexpected hiatus.  Sorry.  I lied without the comfort of pre-meditation, which usually gives me time to fine-tune my tall tales. 

My Father-in-law, after many years of defying the odds and staying optimistic when staying optimistic made no sense, died a few weeks ago. 

This was a man who has been sick for the entire 18 years that I have known him, yet he rarely complained, rarely felt sorry for himself, and rarely let those around him know when he was feeling less than stellar, which was pretty much always. 
He was the most honest, forgiving soul that I have ever known.  After knowing him only a short time, I was easily able to see where the Mr. got both his rare and true ability to not give a shit what people think about him, as well as his innate inclination to see the best in even the most awful human beings.  My Father-in-law, in these 18 years, only twice indicated that he, indeed, did not like someone, and both times I totally understood why he felt the need to vocalize that which he normally kept to himself.  One was someone who, in a very short time, dragged a close family member (as well as the family) through the mud with their selfishness and total disregard for humans in general.  The other had brought doubt onto my Father-in-law's character many years ago, and knowing how impeccable his character was, I get it.  Some things are unforgivable, and crimes against family and reputation fall into this category.
He was a better person than most of us can ever hope to be.  This has been a challenging time for all involved. 
But, we move on.  We figure shit out.  We find a way to fill that void.  Having lost a parent myself, I get it.  No matter how it happens, it's never easy.  If you're lucky, this was the person that protected you from the ugliness of the world as long as they could.  If you're lucky, they made you feel special when everyone else told you otherwise.  If you're lucky, they never judged and helped you along even when they knew you were probably going to fall on your ass.  If you're lucky, they knew when you needed to learn a lesson but were there to comfort you anyways.  And, unfortunately, they generally die before we do, which we all think we are prepared for, yet we rarely are.

So, I apologize for yet another absence, but I think you'll forgive me.  And, given my Father-in-law's general "do what makes you happy" attitude, I shall be back in full force, my nuggets.  Maybe a re-design of the site is in order, maybe costumes will be involved. 

Regardless of the details, the time, it is a-tickin', and we need to make the most of every fucking moment.  Hug your people, hug your furry nuggets, hug your bus driver (but don't squeeze their bum- trust me, that never ends well).  Because, as cliche' as it sounds, putting stuff off until tomorrow may not pan out so well- sometimes there isn't a "tomorrow".  Sometimes all you have is that moment where you have a chance to create a memory, and for better or for worse, you need to grab that motherfucking moment and create the shit out of it. 
Dammit.

Now, go out and embrace the crap out of the day, you awesome little nuggets of magic.  You make today your bitch. ok?



 

 

The Vegina Monologues

I'll admit it- I'm missing cheese right now in a way that is probably making strangers uncomfortable.  I'm learning the hard way that no one is going to say yes to the question, "Can I watch you eat that cheeseburger?"

That rumbling you heard in the Universe lately is likely caused by the fact that, for the foreseeable future, I, Whiskeymarie VonPartypants, world-renowned connoisseur of snack foods, cured pork products and all things "chippy" am eating 95% vegan, 99% vegetarian (95% of the time, anyways) (I know, math is hard.).

Yes, I know what you're saying- "But Whiskey, aren't vegans typically self-righteous assholes that feel the need to vocalize this affliction to anyone within hearing range at every possible moment?"
To that, I say mostly yes, and they should be openly mocked.  Often.  BUT, I'm not classifying myself as such.  I'm dabbling more than anything else, and should an errant piece of cheddar or bacon accidentally fall into my mouth once in a blue moon (much like how I lost my virginity. What? You DIDN'T "accidentally" fall onto a penis your first time?), I'm not going to beat myself up about it. 

Mostly I know this- after xxxmas, New Years, and a few fun stops in-between, I was sluggish in a way that was surprising even to me, my granny panties were reaching maximum capacity, and my gut felt like I had been drinking vinegar shots with a battery acid chaser on a regular basis.  I'm only a week or so into this ridiculousness, but pounds are flying off and I actually woke up before 8:00am twice this week, ON PURPOSE.  Trust me, that pretty much never happens.  I may have even been what is often referred to as "chipper" this morning, causing me to want to punch myself in the face repeatedly. 

Now, we all know this won't likely last, given my general propensity to abandon all forays into "health" so fast that I leave skid marks (insert joke here), but for now, humor me. If you're nice I'll even regale you with tales of: my technicolored poo (beets!) (Who are we kidding, I'll tell you if you're nice or not), odd uses for tofu, my dreams where I make sweet sweet love to a wheel of brie, and why I always giggle when I say "Bok Choy."

Wish me luck- this isn't my natural environment and, much like a wild animal trapped in the city, I may bite if provoked.

This could get ugly.

Happy Wednesday, my marinated and oddly spongy little tofu nuggets.  Happy Wednesday.

The hamster shouldn't complain about his wheel, dammit. At least he's working out.

If I should cast off this tattered coat,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant --
What then?

-Stephen Crane

This is my one of my very favorite poems ever. I've never seen it as purely a comment on whether or not there is an "after" for this life or not, as I made that decision for myself a long time ago (Nada. Zip. Not in my summation anyways. I'm not the boss of you- think whatever you want to think, Thinky McThinkerson). Nope.

For me, this has been a less tangible, less obvious observation on those things that we see off in the future and wonder, "Should I?" What if I cast off the idea that my job is possibly a tireless routine that, over the years will suck my soul out despite the amazing hours and great pay, and start seeing it as something that I, theoretically, have the power to forge into something life-changing? What if I'm wrong about that and get stuck in an endless routine of contentedness and hamster wheelishness? What if I dare to do the things that I know will maybe make my restless and never-contented ass happier than I probably deserve to be? What if I don't? What if I was wrong in the first place? What if I was right?
Earlier this week, I fleetingly thought, "What if I really do have food poisoning and I have a 'whoops I crapped my pants' moment at work?" Ok, I guess that's not relevant to the existential b.s. here, but I thought it nonetheless and I am nothing if not an oversharer. Spoiler: I didn't crap my pants.

Anyhoo, I think my LONG standing writer's block has stemmed from my basic life-paralysis. I feel like I'm damned if I do, damned if I can muster up anything anyways. I know change is needed, but for the first time in my life I'm not 100% sure what those changes need to be. Maybe I need another dog, maybe I need another hobby besides competitive internet shopping and precision nose-blowing, maybe I need to bomb the shit out of everything I know as normal and create something new. I have some leanings towards certain things, but I think I've been waiting for some sign from the leprechauns that tell me what to do. Last time they told me to start fires, so I occasionally question their motives, but hey- it's what I've got. I have the wheels of change in motion, but they're moving slowly, which is probably for the best. When they move too fast I tend to run over things like squirrels and souls. One lets out a sad, squishy squeal when this happens, the other is more of a disappointed sigh.

 Not sure where this is going, mostly I wanted to explain my absence in some other way beyond a blithe, dismissive, bullet-pointed recap that I normally would do. If anyone is reading anymore, and I'd be shocked enough to maybe crap my pants for real if they were, I am back. For realsies. I feel like I needed a "breaking the hymen" (again) post to get back on that horse.
Well, I'm bleeding from the crotchal region (metaphorically, dummies) and trotting away happily on my steed, ignoring the fact that last time I rode I was horribly sore and chafed in my nether-regions the next day. Also? I may have horse-riding and "donkey shows" confused again. I'm easily confused.

Happy Wednesday, my existential little nuggets of horse poo. Happy Wednesday.