"too"

too tired to eat

too tired to dress

too tired from hoping

too tired for the stress

too sick to be happy

too sick to be sad

too sick to celebrate

too sick to get mad

too weak to notice

too weak to complain

too weak to enjoy life

too weak to have pain

too stressed for the hassle

too stressed for the fuss

too stressed for the battle

too stressed to have guts

too hopeful to give in

too hopeful to die

too hopeful to stop now

too hopeful to lie

too important to everyone

too important to prove

too important to let go

too important to lose

too strong to roll over

too strong to give in

too strong to not fight it

too strong to let it win

Another Weekend

I went out tonight. If you've watched my tweets, you know I have mixed feelings about "out." I always feel like I want to be there, and I want to be shakin' my booty on the dance floor, but I can't STAND people! James had graciously offered to take control of Andrew while I went out with my sister and her "person" (a.k.a. best friend), so I was determined to make the best of it.

We're at the lake, and the thing to do here is a lakefront restaurant with an outside bar and dance floor, which could be really cool if they didn't charge so damn much for a cover charge, they always had a decent band, and if there weren't so damn many idiots allowed in. I was all excited when we got there because the bouncer/door guy collecting cover charges let me in free when I whined about the cover. I was SO excited---ten bucks is a lot to pay just to walk down some steps!

We were there just long enough to order one drink and venture onto the dance floor when some a-hole decided to dance up behind me and be stupid for his friends. He was a tall, goofy moron, and I took care of him by turning around and giving him the "death stare" well known to family and friends. He backed off, and we continued to dance. Not five minutes later, I kid you not, a drunk moron who was all of five-foot-nothing sauntered up behind me (my sister saw me and failed to warn me) and started to grind himself into my rear end. I don't want to be graphic here, but I felt...things. And I was pissed. He didn't announce himself...hell, I hadn't even seen him. I didn't know him, and I was nowhere near drunk enough to not care that I didn't know him, and just....ugggh!! My response? Turn around ('cause I'm still pissed about the other guy) and say, "Are you ALWAYS an a-hole?" His response? "It's a dance floor, I didn't see a sign not to touch you!" With a look that SHOULD have killed, I said, "DON'T touch me," and went back to my dancing, still furious. He turned to his also-drunk moron friends and proceeded to talk trash, probably about how fat my ass is and how I should be grateful that drunken trolls who escaped from the set of Miami Vice (because he was wearing WHITE pants, a Hawaiian shirt, and sunglasses attached to his head with a LEASH!) feel the need to rub their tiny little wee-wees against my huge butt while I'm minding my own business. I didn't hit him, but, boy, did I want to! What I did do was talk to my friend the bouncer (a different one), who "took care of my problem," as he told me later. Yes, I tattled, and I'm proud of it.

So, I had inspiration for this post while on the dance floor, then couldn't really remember what I was going to say when we got home. I remember thinking that, while I like going out, I HATE other people that ARE out, and it usually ends up not being worth it. I don't know when going out dancing turned into going out to be a stripper on the dance floor. I guess it makes me old, but I miss the old days when girls and guys didn't touch while they were dancing. It definitely makes me old that I want to at least know someone's name before they touch my rear end with ANY part of their bodies. Morons go out and turn into bigger morons after they've had a few drinks, and I just want to scream and, politically incorrect or not, sterilize people before they can reproduce.

The band played "Billie Jean" tonight, and it made me sad. Poor Michael Jackson. Say/think what you will, but his music is so much a part of my growing up and part of the soundtrack of my life, and...I almost cried on the dance floor.

Tomorrow night is the 4th, and we're going to watch the fireworks with family, then stay home and have some good, wholesome fun by playing drinking games with my family. Rick Springfield will be in the CD player, the only morons I'll have to worry about will be relatives, and there's NO cover charge.

Grumblings

I am in a foul mood. Chalk it up to the letdown after vacation euphoria if you will, but I swear, things SUCK all of a sudden.

My house is getting on my frigging nerves. It has lots of character, sure, but I don't want character. I got spoiled in a beach house with Berber carpets, no clutter, fresh paint, no clutter, and no clutter. I came back, and I hate this one more than I did when I left. I'm "this close" to grabbing a sledgehammer and taking down some walls, I swear. And the CRAP we have in this house--ridiculous! I want it outta here! I'd be perfectly happy to have someone park a dumpster underneath one of our windows so I could just throwing JUNK out of the upstairs windows. I get goosebumps thinking about it!

My green bean plants were gone when we came home from our trip. Not eaten by cute little bunnies, not wilted by the heat. Just gone. As if they were never there at all. The only way I knew I wasn't crazy were the two apparently empty rows in the garden where the bean plants used to be.

We didn't win the Mega Millions last night. Is it up to 100 million yet? It was 94 million the last time I checked...I had the damn money all allocated, too.

We had another snake caught in the garden mesh. The stupid things just crawl right in there and get trapped, and they're too dumb to figure a way out. What's there to do but chop it in half? Now it's still stuck, but it's dead, and it's going to be GROSS. No way am I pulling it out. I hope he's the bastard responsible for the green beans, but somehow I doubt it.

I'm trying not to eat carbs. No carbs + crappy mood = Tamara On A Rampage. And I just couldn't help it today. I had scrambled eggs this morning with a Diet Ginger Ale. I gave up the coffee this morning because we didn't have any Splenda, and I had two tiny pieces of barbeque chicken for lunch. But then I cracked and hate several handfuls of Doritos. And I know what would cheer me up--BREAD! But no...so we'll have tacos tonight, only mine will be taco meat on a bed of stupid lettuce. Yeah, right. If you think I'm going to make it through dinner with no taco shells, I have a lottery ticket to sell you.

And then. The Piece de Resistance...my principal called and laid a doozy on me about next year. And trust me, if that Mega Millions had come through, I'd seriously consider a hiatus. James' argument about moving to the Outer Banks is starting to carry some weight.

I didn't even want to write this post. I had gone cold turkey while we were on vacation, and I was so grumpy when we came home, I just wasn't feeling it. The bad news I got earlier pushed me over the edge, I guess. A girl's gotta vent or explode, right?

Okay, I'm off to start a bonfire with all my worldly possessions. It'll be huge. You'll be able to see it from space. Yet another plan foiled...it's raining. So much for the bonfire. Now I'll just have to eat the marshmallows un-melted.

Bon Voyage!

I've been a little distracted this week. School's out, and I have time on my hands, so normally I'd be writing about wacko stuff just to kill time. Not this week, though. This week was full speed ahead with preparations, laundry, cleaning, buying big boy booster seats for Andrew, arranging cat/house sitters, borrowing larger vehicles, etc., because tomorrow morning, bright and early, we hit the road for our favorite destination, the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

We normally look forward to this week, needless to say. Everyone looks forward to their vacation week, right? It gets you through the cold winters, the insanity of work, and the usual humdrum crap of "reality." This year, however, we've looked forward to it for all of those reasons, with some extra special ones thrown in. I wrote the following paragraph as my status update on Facebook earlier, and decided I liked it so much, I wanted it to be here too.

"Tomorrow we leave for our family vacation. Six months ago, when my stepmother was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer, she decided that we should all be together at the beach. I write this to remind myself: Be thankful she is doing so well and that we are all able to go. Remember daily why we are there. Make the moments last, make the days unending, and make the trip fulfill all of her wishes."

See, I have a tendency to be easily annoyed. I know that comes a surprise, haha. I have little tolerance for stupidity, inconsideration, and sometimes, just people in general. I would be a great hermit. So put me in situations like this, where many people are trying to co-exist under one roof, and I get a little antsy sometimes. Actually, this combination of people under one roof could probably drive Mother Theresa to curse and throw things, so I won't take all of the blame for it. But I do need to just chill, and not get so easily aggravated. So, that's my reminder. I might have to write it on the palm of my hand for ease of reference, but it's what I'm going to try to do.

I don't know if I'll be back to update during the week or not. I'm sure my parents (geez, how old am I, 14?) are taking the laptop wth them, and I'm sure there will be fodder for blogging, so it's a good bet that I'll be around. If not, though, rest assured that every last activity worth remembering will be detailed here. I'll even 'fess up to being an ass if I lose control of my zen. (Also a pretty safe bet!)