2009: A Recap

Since my last post, I have regained my positivity and my sarcasm and my charm. I do not know why. I had yesterday off work, and my toddler rode my ass like I was a racing greyhound. AC refused to take a nap, so I missed some valuable sleeping time. My friend J was having a boy crisis and insisted she come over, which then forced me to clean my house in a hurry. When I told her my house wasn't clean, she said, "Don't worry about it. I'm used to seeing your sh!t everywhere." This may not have been meant as a compliment.

Nevertheless, in my bout of positivity, I decided it'd be a good idea to recap the major negative events of my 2009, and fill them in with the good stuff they actually brought. So here goes:

*I divorced my husband.
--> To normal people, divorce is a major, life-changing decision that leads to depression and sadness and other maladies. For me, it was the best thing I've ever done, and a long time coming. I could pretend that I'm feeling some pain, but nope. My Give-a-Damn's busted on that one. I feel nothing but happiness and gratefulness and relief over my divorce. Best. Decision. Ever. I had zero feelings left for my ex-husband by the time we divorced: no anger, no love, no affection, no nothing. It always reminds me of my favorite book of all time, 'Valley of the Dolls'. Anne Welles had everything she ever wanted--the husband, the child, the career, the NYC penthouse--but yet her husband was a cheater, and she knew it. And each time he'd cheat, she'd be hurt a little less, but she'd feel a little less love for him...until in time, there was nothing: no love and no hurt. My marriage was a little bit like that. Only minus the cheating part.

*Thanks to my divorce, I have my daughter, AC, only 50 percent of the time.
--> At first, this was a tough pill to swallow. Then I realized that this just might be the best thing ever: I can go out for Tequila Thursdays with my friends. I can sleep all by myself in my big, beautiful bed. I can sleep for as long as I'd like, uninterrupted. I can watch whatever I want on TV, and I don't have to watch Dora the Explorer. I can read magazines without the tiny tot grabbing it out of my hands and screaming, "No! ME!!!" All my friends who are a few steps ahead of me in the divorce process assured me that I would appreciate my time. They were damn right.

*I almost died twice due to various medical issues.
--> For those who don't know, I have an enormous pain tolerance. You'd never know it by looking at me, but I could rival a Marine. I also have little sympathy for those in pain, because I think they should suck it up and deal. I'd make the worst nurse in the entire world. I'd be better off pursuing a career as a dominatrix. However, over the course of the year, I had two events where I could've died, at least according to me. With the first, I postponed a visit to the ER until I had quite near hemorrhaged to death. The registrars stared at me in disgust, shocked at the fact that I had driven myself to the ER and that I was there alone. I got priority treatment. It rocked. The second time was the infamous ambulance ride for my extreme tachycardia--the highest heart rate the fire department guys had ever seen! The one that almost caused them to stop my heart and re-start it! I would've truly been legally dead--but only for about five seconds, according to the paramedic, who told me he was bummed that my heart regulated on its own, because he's never been able to administer that heart-stopping med, and I would've been his first. Thanks, buddy. From both of these near-death experiences, I have determined that the ER is like a five-star resort for single mothers. It's pretty terrific to spend time in the ER. They bring you heated blankets and prop you up with pillows. They bring in enormous syringes of federally controlled substances to treat your pain, and shoot you up so high that they need to put the bed rails up so you don't fall out of the bed in your drugged stupor. You can watch whatever you want on TV. You can eavesdrop on other rooms, to decide if your condition is better or worse than the person next to you. Doctors and nurses and your family show sympathy and concern. I can think of very few places where I can relax in such a peaceful environment.

*I can date again.
--> Okay...not so much progress on this one. I've had one date. And it was highly unsuccessful. But it's that hope that I'll stumble upon a good one that keeps me going. But this isn't Hollywood, this is a small town, so we'll see...

*I have effectively eliminated the need for eating and sleeping, thanks to stress.
--> Since my success in eliminating these two seemingly basic needs, I have lost a minimum of 25 pounds. The way I see it, stress like this is equivilent to doing meth. Both eliminate eating and sleeping, so you lose weight. I just got to stay pretty with the stress, unlike what would happen if I did the meth. Right now, I can literally take my pants off without even bothering with buttons and zippers. This could come in handy at some point. See above: dating. Alas, this also came with a negative benefit: the DDs are sneaking away on me. No fair. I am seeing the need to invest in some new lingerie for 2010. Again, see above: dating.

*I feel as though my work load has increased exponentially, and my productivity has decreased exponentially.
--> I got a rockin' year-end bonus. And I still have a job. That always helps.

*I finally joined the 21st Century and now have an iPhone. This has resulted in me downloading $600+ in iTunes.
--> Well...I needed the iPhone for, you know, texting and phone calls from prospective dates. It wasn't a want, it was a need. Besides, it was really gratifying to learn to use iTunes all by myself.

*I wasted an enormous amount of money to see Britney's Circus tour.
--> C'mon! It's Britney, b!tch! Plus, I stayed in the same hotel as Brit, which was extraordinarily fabulous. The shower was amazing. As soon as I hit it big, I am so getting a replica of that shower, with dual shower heads. Oh, and the headboard was etched glass, that lights up. Fabulous. And I drained the mini-bar, of virtually everything, except for the overpriced sex toy kits, because I'll be goddamned if I'm gonna pay $27 for a mini-vibe that you can get at the sex toy store for under $10. I did not appreciate that bill, but it sure was fun. I can't wait until I find myself a boyfriend, because a weekend at the Graves 601 is definitely in order. It'd be a total bonus if Britney was also in town, since the Target Center is right across the street, but that would be highly unlikely, so I should consider other fantasies for my next stay at the Graves 601.

*I drank so many tequila shots that I had to throw up at the bar. At 9:00 pm.
--> Pfft...this happens to everyone, whether they are 21 or 31. I didn't get it out of my system at 21. I did get it out of my system at 31. Literally.

*After a bout of depression caused by a med change, I self-diagnosed myself as bipolar.
--> Yeah, I might have to opt with my medical provider's opinion on this one: not true. But it was a good excuse for a while, plus it was a way to bond with Britney. I never got to the head-shaving part, but I did think the neon pink bobbed wig was pretty sweet. I thought that'd be the best Halloween costume ever: Brit's 'Womanizer' cop costume, only with the neon pink wig instead of the blonde hair. But, alas, I guess I will have to side with my mom on this one: "It's not YOU who is crazy. It's your MARRIAGE that makes you crazy." Touche, because once my marriage ended, so did my craziness.

*I planned a hell-raising bout as a really, really bad girl. I fully intended to have one-night stands, drink a lot, smoke cigarettes, maybe smoke some greenery, date a plethora of boys, go to sleep way past my bedtime...
--> I was a total failure. A complete, full-on epic fail. Of this list of things I planned to do, I succeeded only in drinking a lot, and that resulted in the tequila-vomiting episode mentioned above. I smoked a cigarette, in the midst of a five-week bout of bronchitis, and looked like an ass when I coughed and coughed. I decided that I've never had a one-nighter, and don't plan to, since the idea of getting it on with someone I am actually dating freaks me out right now. Smoking the greenery? Forget it. Too much work. Dating lots of boys? I can't even find one. As it would turn out, I will forever be the good little girl next door. And I guess that's probably okay.

I'm sure I made many, many more negative or questionable decisions throughout the course of 2009, and I am sure I'll do the same in 2010. But at least I can laugh about it, right?

It's Britney, B!tch!

Okay, okay...I will admit that I like Britney Spears a little bit more than your average 32-year-old woman should. One of the things I like best about her is that typically, we go crazy at around the same time. When she was crazy and shaved her head spontaneously, I was also crazy with postpartum depression, and sobbing over the fact that I could no longer see my OBGYN on a weekly basis, a complete devastation to me as--much to my ex-husband's dismay--I was certain my OBGYN was my soul mate. When Brit was crazy and locked her naked self in the bathroom with her son, I was also crazy with depression that would later transpire into a "mood disorder" diagnosis, which, in my mind, actually means "bipolar". My mother adamently disagrees with my self-diagnosis, and frequently tells me, "It's not YOU that's crazy. It's that you are in a crazy situation with your so-called husband." Nevertheless, I take pride in the fact that Britney and I share a commonality, at least in my own mind, though my "bipolar" has all but disappeared since I made my now ex-husband disappear.

As a newly single girl with newly single friends in a town of transient "pipers", we discussed one night how we ought to assume names when we go out. We vowed to never, ever give the pipers our real names, because we really aren't looking for anything long-term and really only want to be wined, dined and pipelined. Because I like the opening part of Britney's 'Gimme More', I decided that I would go by 'Britney B!tch', because really...calling your friends and saying, "It's J, b!tch!" has far less impact than quoting Britney word-for-word by calling your friends and saying, "It's Britney, b!tch!", just like she does in 'Gimme More'.

When I was still married to my husband, I begged and pleaded for tickets to Britney's Circus concert tour--for my 31st birthday. He obliged and went, particularly because he thought he was going to get a great night of sex after the concert, since he believed I'd be all heated up by both the Pussycat Dolls and Britney. Unfortunately, what he really got was chaos, because Brit was staying at the same hotel; no dinner because all of the restaurants were too packed before the concert; me downing champagne and Klonopin to control my stress; and Britney's Lip-Synching Extravaganza. To top the night off, we discovered that there were no restaurants in the area still open at the late hour of 11:00 pm, and ended up ordering room service, so the only sex he got was a quickie in which I yelled, "Hurry up! Room service will be here any minute!" I enjoyed the room service meal much more than I enjoyed the quickie, and enjoyed my luxurious shower in the posh tiled doubled-headed shower even more.

After I got over my shock and horror that Britney did no actual singing at the concert, I decided that it was still fun, so I taught myself how to use iTunes specifically for the purpose of downloading each of her concert songs, in set order, so I could re-live the event over and over in my car. With my OCD traits, if I have something new like this, I tend to play it over. And over. And over. Eventually, I will tire of it, as I have now, when Britney comes up every other song when my iPod in in shuffle mode, because there's so damn much of her on there.

However, during my Britney phase, I took AC to Target, an adventure that, round-trip, takes us roughly an hour-and-a-half, so we had plenty of time to listen to Britney. It should've been a warning when AC shrieked from the backseat, "Hey Mama! You wanna piece of me?" Sigh...I told her no...no, I did not want a "piece of her".

AC took her Britney obsession even further when we arrived at the McDonald's drive-thru to place our dinner order. She insisted that I "make it bigger!", and her favorite song was a less-than-innocent Britney song called, 'Hot as Ice'. For an adult, it is obvious what Brit is referring to as being "cold as fire, baby, hot as ice...never been to heaven? This is twice as nice...", but for AC, it quickly became her favorite song.

The line at the drive-thru was long and slow, and we had to wait with our car window down the entire time, with Aidyn yelling, 'MAKE IT BIGGER' while I had to play "Hot as Ice' over...and over...and over... I felt the glares from adults, who probably assumed that it was me, not a two-year-old, who insisted on playing the same obscene Britney song "bigger" and over...and over...and over.

But hey...it's Britney, b!tch. The kid's got good taste in music, and at least it wasn't Brit's current (and my favorite) obscene and even more suggestive hit, '3'.