I’m not really sure how it came about, but this morning I started thinking about nicknames I have had over the years. And I have actually had quite a few. Most of them came about during (or shortly after) high school, which could totally mean something. Maybe. Anyway, I thought I’d share some of them with you.

Happy Cat – A (guy) friend of mine started calling me this out of the blue one day. I found out he started it bcuz he thought I was happy. All. The. Time. And that was when the commercials for Happy Cat cat food were on the air. So, there you have it. I got named after cat food. And it stuck. My graduation mug has my name as HC Stacey. True story.

J.B.T. – Decisions. Decisions. Do I tell you what it stands for? Or not? I can start off by telling you a GUY gave me this one. You’ll totally understand in a minute. And one day he just started saying, “Hey J.B.T.!” But he refused to tell me what it meant. He wanted me to guess. I never could figure it out on my own, though. So a friend who had been let in on the ‘joke’ told me that the first part was a type of food. No help there dood. He then went on to tell me, “Jelly…Bean…”, and I tried to punch him. Which did me no good cuz he was on the wrestling team, and well, you know. Then I made the mistake of telling someone else about it (another guy) and he never let me forget it. But that’s ok, cuz his nickname was Hot Rocks due to a little Ben Gay ‘incident’ at band camp one year (I didn’t do it!), so payback’s a bitch.

Did you get it yet? Lemme help ya. Jelly Bean Tits. Yeah, high school guys are SO mature. *eyeroll*

Weenie – Tanya gave me this one. We met at band camp the summer before my senior year. (Are you sensing a trend yet? Ya should.) And I cannot for the life of me remember why she gave this to me. But she still calls me by it. Tanya? I’m getting old! Can you remind me? Again?

Phone Sex Girl – I JUST remembered this one as I was writing this post. No, it doesn’t mean what you THINK it means. Perverts. A friend decided that my voice was perfect for phone sex. When I was 18. But then he got called a ‘girl’ when a group of us got caught by the cops hanging out at Ladd’s Marina, so I totally think we’re even now.

Puddy Cat – The husband gave me this one. And I hated it. So it wasn’t just sent to the nickname cemetery. It was sent to the nickname crematorium, NEVER to be heard from again.

Utah Hostage – Tanya’s responsible for this one too, although it isn’t really a nickname, per se. But…I do actually know how this one came about. YAY ME! I’ve been in Utah for the past 7 years, but it was only supposed to be a temporary move. Thus the birth of the Utah Hostage. It IS a little anti-climactic, isn’t it? I know, you were thinking it would be something sexual, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU???

The funniest/most embarrassing nickname that I ever received, though, is really what this post is about.

I was a band geek in high school. I might have mentioned it. And I loved being in band. Our band was awesome. TOTALLY awesome. Hand on the Bible, right hand raised, “I solemly swear to…” awesome. No joke. Our band director was a little nazi-ish, but the ends totally justified the means. Sometimes. Sometimes it just caused us to let off a little steam.

Letting off steam often times involved practical jokes. We were notorious for them. Let’s put it this way, you were taking your life (and at times your face) in your own hands if you fell asleep on the bus to a band review. Especially the guys. I put pink lipstick on our teddy bear of a tuba player, who came after me when he found out that I did it. Another guy ended up with a complete makeover, including WATERPROOF mascara (not my doing I SWEAR!). Remember the Ben Gay incident I mentioned before? All I’m gonna say is: Ben Gay + underwear = Hot Rocks. Nuff said. Yeah, nothing was safe in our group. NOTHING.

One night, another band member talked me into writing on her boyfriend’s windshield with lipstick. Yeah…I know…twist my arm, right? While we were in the middle of it, we were caught by his friend (yet another band member) and ratted out. We couldn’t let him get away with that, so what did we do? Put soap in his trombone mouthpiece. I know! We were merciless! Unfortunately, we were ratted out AGAIN. WTH? Can’t we catch a break?

Now, mind you, I was not the mastermind for either of these pranks. I was just along for the ride. The fact that I was all, “Yeah! Let’s DO IT!” does not in any way imply MY guilt.

We had after-school marching band practice the next day. I headed to the locker room to get my flute. As I came out, I noticed some of the guys grouped around the piano, but didn’t think anything of it. I SO should have known something was up. I went over to the other side of the band room to get ready. I opened my flute case. It didn’t look right. There was something YELLOW in there. This can’t be MY case. And in a split second, it clicked. Someone put a condom on my flute!!!!! I immediately slammed the case shut and ran out of the band room, half laughing (cuz it really was fucking funny as hell!) and half crying. I don’t even remember if I took my case with me or not.  I know those assholes were still in the band room rolling on the floor laughing cuz they got me. And they did. They got me good.

I seriously considered going home. Right then. The after-school practices were required as part of the class grade, but I didn’t care. I was ready to just say, “Screw you guys. I’m going home.” (The guys from South Park totally stole this from me and I have yet to be paid for it. Assholes.) A friend came out, though, and calmed me down. I went back inside, got ready, and headed out to the field for practice.

But they weren’t through with me yet. Not by a long shot. Out on the field, I got the rest of it. I got my new nickname.

You ready for it?…..

Rubbermaid

No, I am NOT kidding.

And it stuck. Like duct tape stuck. For 3 MONTHS!

**********

So, now here is where I put it out there to you. What funny/weird/hated/embarrassing/awesome nicknames have you been given? Can you beat Rubbermaid? Can you come close? I desperately need someone to commiserate laugh with right now until I start drinking again and forget all about this.

A year’s worth of plans, emails, phone calls, and even a few boo-boos here and there finally came to fruition. To say I was excited? Yeah, doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it.

Leaving SLC
My flight was at 7 am. UGH.

I set my alarm for 4:30 am. Stacey doesn’t DO 4:30 am. That is unless it’s 4:30 am because I’ve been up all night playing Guitar Hero and singing ’80’s songs. Then it’s NO PROBLEM. I might as well have stayed up all night since I was up until after midnight finishing my homework and packing anyway. And I figured I would sleep on the plane, which kills two birds with one stone. I had no idea how wrong I was.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

By the time I actually woke up, the clock said 4:40. Yeah, you might be saying, “Wow! 10 whole minutes!” But this is me. Not a morning person. It’s hard for me to get up (I can be down right bitchy) and I need every minute to get ready with none to spare. I tore outta bed and everything became a blur from then until we left for the airport.

One GOOD thing about having a 7 am flight? There is NO ONE on the road. One BAD thing?  No breakfast and NO STARBUCKS! I was cranky, freezing my ass off (cuz I was already dressed for Miami, or cuz I was stupid – take your pick), starving, and badly in need of caffeine.

Got to the airport, checked in with Sky Cap (and was pleasantly surprised to find out that I only had to pay $15 for my bag since we had booked our trip so far in advance), and headed inside. The line for security was AWFUL. I figured I was gonna be there until I turned 50. But then a TSA Agent directed ’seasoned’ passengers to another line. If it got me in a shorter line, HELL YEAH. I think I was through security in about 20 min. SCORE!

I flew out of SLC on American. Do you know what airline SLC is a hub for? Delta. Not American. D-E-L-T-A. Where are the majority of the vendors in SLC? In the B gates. Which are for? Delta. Where was I departing from? The A gates. Cuz I wasn’t on Delta. Do you see a pattern here? Cranky, freezing, starving, and in need of caffeine, with nothing except a damn Quiznos in sight! And it was almost time to board the plane. *sigh* I was not a happy camper.

I boarded the plane and found my seat. A window seat. I prayed to the airplane gods and thanked them for my window seat. I would be ok. Well, sorta ok. Lemme back up a bit. Those who know me really well, know that I don’t fly well. At all. I HATE to fly. I give white knucklers a bad name. Don’t believe me? Let’s take a flight together sometime. I guarantee you will never fly with me again. I once had a flight attendant watch me VERY closely on a flight from Austin to Chicago, bcuz I was about to break off the armrests. True story.

The plane was fairly empty, we were pretty close to our departure time, and I had my window seat. All was good. And then? A family with a young girl and an infant came to the back of the plane and sat…behind me. And where did they put the young girl? RIGHT BEHIND ME. What did she do the entire flight? Kicked my seat. The parents? Were comin due for a couple of bitch slaps. Seriously? One of the things I drilled into my kids over and over again was about showing others courtesy and respect. I would have done a HELL of a lot more than just saying (in a voice with no authority whatsoever), ”Don’t put your feet on the seat. It’s not nice.” I would be all, “Get your gawd damned feet down RIGHT NOW!” But that’s me.

I almost fell asleep once with my head against the side of the plane, only to have her kick the seat which shoved my head into the window frame. I nearly went over that seat and duct taped that kid’s legs above her head. But then I remembered I left my duct tape at home. I really have to learn to remember that stuff. You just never know when it will come in handy.

Needless to say I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.

Layover in O’Hare
I totally lucked out. My flight from SLC arrived at one gate, and my flight to Miami departed from the gate right next to it. And what do I see as I get off the jetway? STARBUCKS! I think I might have drooled a little. But then my stomach chimed in with, “Um…HELLO? You haven’t given me anything in like…5 DAYS. ME FIRST!” And then my bladder jumped in to the conversation with, “Well I can make things really embarrassing for you REALLY FAST HERE.” So bladder trumped stomach, bcuz OBVIOUSLY. And then stomach stomped all over my mocha frappuccino craving, so no Starbucks for me.

My friend Michele’s layover was in DFW. Have you ever been to that airport? It’s a hub for American, so I bet you have at some point. Ok, so raise your hands if you EVER had to get off at one gate only to have your connecting flight depart from a gate on the other damn side of the terminal, or better yet, ANOTHER FREAKIN TERMINAL ALTOGETHER? Come on, GET YOUR DAMN HANDS UP! You know you have. Well, this was what she had to deal with. I was calmly waiting for my flight to Miami, while getting texts that my friend might not make her connecting flight. I was crossing fingers, legs, eyes, ANYTHING I could think of to send good vibes her way so that she would make her flight. Which she did. Cuz I haz GOOD JUJU.

Arrival in Miami
The flight from Chicago to Miami was pretty uneventful. I managed to keep my anxiety to a minimum and even chatted a bit with the nice lady sitting next to me. As soon as we landed, Michele and I started texting. Yes I KNEW that we were gonna see each other in just a few minutes, but it took FOREVER to taxi to the gate. And then I didn’t know which gate I was arriving at, so I couldn’t even tell her where to meet me. We finally found each other & set off to take care of priorities (bathroom, food, drink – & not necessarily in that order, except the bathroom. DUH.).

Got our bags, caught the shuttle to the hotel, and met up with the rest of our group. By now my stomach was rebelling. And not from lack of food. We were finally in the promised land. And my stomach wanted something with liquor in it. Now. A shot of 1800 & a Sam Adams plz thankyouverymuch!

Ok. Time for food. Holly wanted Cuban food since we’re in Miami, and we were all up for that. The hotel recommended Mojitos Cuban Restaurant in Dolphin Mall, which is (just what you’re thinking) a mall. (And I had to actually look up the name of the restaurant cuz I totally forgot it. OOPS!) The food was really good and the Sangria was AWESOME!

After dinner, Holly found us a cab that would take us to get alcohol for the ship. Two stops later, we had wine and liquor. We were SET! It was back to the hotel and an early night cuz the next day we were all gonna be sufficiently drowning our livers. No need to overdo it on the first night, right?

To be continued…

I’m posting my fav pic from my camera for each day of the trip (except the last one bcuz I didn’t take a single pic that day, go figure) For day 1, here is the group at dinner in Miami:

Mojitos in the front. Sangria in the back. Does anyone else notice how my boobs are on the table?

A week after my birthday, I had a local bash at Keys on Main to celebrate with my friends here in Utah. Can I just say I love that place? No, really. I. LOVE. THAT. PLACE.

Yes, I hear that group of you in the back going, “Wh-WHAT? What happened to the cruise? WE WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE CRUISE!” I am writing it, I promise. But there is a lot to write about (I don’t wanna leave out anything) and it will prolly be in stages. So for now, bear with me. This story’s good too.

Six of the friends I invited came (Jenn, Michelle, and Sarah aka the girls; plus Roxanne, Gina, and Juan). And some of them brought friends (Cat, Katie, Jenna, and Mark). Some I knew. Some I didn’t. Long ago, that would have freaked me out. Ask anyone that knew me in the ’80’s (and even part of the ’90’s EGAD!). I. Was. Shy. If I didn’t know you, I kept to myself, which might have come across as me being a snobby bitch.  But, I’m a much more social person than I used to be. Now, you’ll KNOW that I’m a snobby bitch cuz I’m totally open about it. Just kidding. Life’s too short for me to be a snobby bitch and I never know who I might meet on any given day.

But I digress.

Gina’s goal for the night was to get me fucked up. I dare say she managed to achieve that goal long before the night was over. Oh my. I KNOW. I am SUCH a lush! I do remember having:

• a shot of Patron
• a Blue Moon
• 3 AMF’s
• a Jager Bomb (Michelle said I better not puke after I drank that. I didn’t. Think I’m finally getting this whole drinking thing down. WOOT!)
• Sips of other drinks (I think EVERYONE had jumped on the fuck Stacey up bandwagon by then. And I had the hangover the next day to prove it.)

The girls SWEAR that I had 5 AMF’s. FIVE. They said they counted how many I actually had, but I think they’re just trying to boost the ego of my inner alcoholic. Gotta love those girls. THEY ROCK!

Note: The last time I had a shit load of AMF’s, I couldn’t walk OR talk afterward. It may have something to do with the Sake Bombs we did beforehand, though. Maybe. And after all that, I didn’t pass out and I didn’t puke. YAY ME!

The girls decided to get me in the limelight early. Kendrick told me to get my ass on stage RIGHT NOW. Well, okay then. I went up there with my blinking tiara and boa (a present from the girls that I wore pretty much all night, when it wasn’t falling off my head. No I wasn’t drinking, I swear!) Kendrick told me (along with the rest of the bar thankyouverymuch!) that I didn’t look 40 and to get on the piano. Hmmm. Lemme think this through. I’ve been drinking. I’m in heels. And I’m supposed to hump my ass on top of a piano? Yeah, I’m kinda thinkin…NO. So I commented that I really shouldn’t get up there cuz it would NOT BE PRETTY. And of course Kendrick responded that he doubted that. That’s when I KNEW he was trying to get in my pants. So we were good. And then he serenaded me with “You’ve got the 60 and I’ve got the 9.” And I’m thinking, not only is this piano player HAWT, but he’s trying to get in my pants, AND he’s a MINDREADER? Yeah, I’m screwed.

Did I ever mention that I can get a little slutty when I drink? No? Well, then just forget that I EVER MENTIONED IT.

When the piano players rotated, we got Jordan closest to us. What a character! I’ve got lots of entertaining pics of him (including one where he was showing me his ass. For the camera. On purpose. THAT’S MY KIND OF MAN! WOOT!)

Oh! I totally forgot about the cones! I GOTTA talk about the cones! The gals that I took the cruise with decorated our cabin (think BLACK) and brought these orange cones to decorate the table on my birthday. The cones were forgotten that night, cuz we were too busy remembering our make-out session with the dolphins earlier in the day. But that’s for another post. Be patient.

The cones say “40-YEAR OLD SENIOR MOMENT”. And they are hilarious. I just couldn’t let them go to waste, so they tagged along for the ride. And became props throughout the night as the group became more and more trashed (think Madonna & you might get an idea of what I mean). I really am thinking of having them bronzed. If anyone can tell me where I can get that done, I will buy you booze. Hey, I figure I’m not the only one who can be bribed. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just THAT easy.

There were lots of pics taken that night. Most of them I totally remember taking or having taken. And then there are the others… There are pics where Juan is wearing my tiara and boa, but I have NO MEMORY OF IT HAPPENING. None. I can remember the cone ‘props’, but I can’t remember THAT? That might mean something. Which might explain A LOT.

The pics Sarah took are WAY better than mine. That’s because I am still learning my new camera was too drunk to do anything more than sing very loudly off key just plain suck at taking pics of anything but boobs and lap dances. And even then I STILL suck cuz I’m too busy ENJOYING said boobs and lap dances to take a decent picture.

*sigh*

The six of us that stayed to the end of the night are below (I’m the one in the tiara. I know you weren’t sure, so I thought I’d help you out a bit. Cuz I’m ALL about helping others.). What a fun group! If you look in the middle, you can even see the cones, which should prolly go down in history. Cuz they are just The Awesome. Or maybe they should just be burned.

Thanks everyone! I had the most amazing time. We need to do this again VERY soon.

Tomorrow works for me.

It’s almost over. Four more weeks is all that remains. And I couldn’t be happier about it. I think.

I’m talking about the end of my job, which I have mentioned before here, here, and here. The end date set for me and my boss is the end of February. The rest of my department that’s being let go? Their end date is tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

There’s no hiding from it anymore. Not like I was hiding from it anyway. But still. I know tomorrow will be slapping me in the face yelling, “WAKE UP DUMBASS! THIS WILL BE YOU IN A MONTH!”

*eyeroll*

I’m actually ready to be laid off. My to do list is gargantuan at this point and I’m sure as hell not getting anything done sitting on my ass at work surfing porn sites the Internet. I am able to get my homework done at work, though, but there is only so much homework to do. Most days, I’m sitting on my hands to avoid IM’ing people in the office to keep me entertained, bcuz they actually do have work to do!

But by saying I’m ready to be laid off, I don’t mean that I’m always ok with it. I am ok with having some time off to go to school while I’m still being paid. I am ok with being able to catch up on that massive to do list I have. And maybe clean & organize my house some. Maybe. But not having a job throws a wrench in my plans to move forward. That I’m not ok with. And I will miss people in my department. And I will miss people in the company. Some more than others.

Wanna hear something funny? I actually flip off the TV when commercials for my ‘new’ company come on. Usually accompanied with some colorful words like, “THANKS A LOT MOTHERFUCKERS!” But I’m not telling you who the company is, cuz I think it’s better to keep my occasional moments of planning to bomb the building pettiness bitterness to myself. (As I’ve mentioned before, though, I can be bribed with booze. Nuff said.)

It’s gonna get awfully quiet around here. Fast.

Ladies (& Craig LOL),

Where do I begin?

I don’t even know how let all of you know just how much I appreciate that you shared my birthday with me. I was so touched. I imagine you could tell, but I still want to tell you myself how much it meant to me. Holly was so right when she said the tears on Saturday were tears of joy. And gratitude. And awe. And whatever hell else I can think of to convey how special it was to do something so fun on my birthday and to have such great people there with me to share it.

Angela
Hun, you did SO awesome! It was an amazing birthday cruise! YOU ROCK LADY! It was a bummer that you had to ‘work’ a little on the trip, though. Can’t wait to call you when I’m ready to book my trip to Atlantis! Thank you so much for the necklace and earrings also. I love them! And I still think you totally should have gone to that party! There. I said it.

Craig
It was such a pleasure meeting you on this trip. You have such a great sense of humor! The tabasco water was so funny! But, I hope we crazy drunk women didn’t freak you out too badly!

Holly
I will NEVER look at packing the same way again! ROFLMAO You never fail to crack me up and I love that. And I love how you tell it like it is. You chewed my ass out, but I needed it (and I do need it every once in a while – gotta get rid of it somehow!). And I knew that it was out of genuine concern and caring. Thank you. If I move to San Diego, you got my back, right? LOL

Suzette
It was so wonderful meeting you on our Cabo cruise and I am SO glad you came on this one too! And now I can tag you in the pics on FB so that everyone else can see your awesomeness! Cuz you are totally AWESOME! If I get out to San Diego, can I get a reference to your stylist? PLZ????

And I totally didn’t say it enough on the ship, so HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY YOU SEXY BITCH!

Michele
When I brought up the idea of doing something together for my birthday, I was over-the-moon ecstatic when you said you were in. Robert had to yank my ass down off the ceiling I was so excited! I didn’t even know then what an impact this trip would have on me regarding our friendship. We connected in a way that we haven’t in a REALLY long time. I don’t think I can ever explain how much that meant to me, even though I knew you wanted to throttle me a couple of times. That’s just how we roll.

I loveloveLOVE the necklace and earrings! And I love you so much! Remember ‘the circle’? Yeah, you ain’t NEVER GETTING OUT THERE. So don’t even try.

And btw, just when I when I was about to stab the asshat sitting next to me on the flight home that decided he needed his seat space AND MINE, Don’t Talk To Strangers came on my iPod, which made me smile and get a little teary. So THANK YOU for keeping me outta jail. The asshat should thank you too, cuz you totally saved his life.

Love,
Stacey

NO WAIT!

THAT’S NOT MY NAME!

Love,
Trina

2010 is in less than 13 hours. HOLY SHIT Y’ALL!

Wow! This year has totally flown by. It really does seem like we were just at the beginning of 2009. But a lot has happened this year too. I started thinking about everything and came up with a pretty good list of major events(good AND bad) from 2009:

And with all of that going on, I finally began to find my voice. It took a while, and it’s absolutely a work in progress, but it’s been a lot of fun so far. I look forward to see where the journey leads in 2010.

I wish all of you a safe and Happy New Year! I sincerely hope that 2010 brings you lots of joy! Bottoms up!

All my love,

Stacey

WARNING: This post is a HUGE rant that covers a couple of decade’s worth of shit and even then I’m barely touching on SO many things. I TOTALLY understand if you want to run screaming from it. I want to run screaming from it, and it’s my life! If you do dare to actually read it, well then, consider yourself forewarned.

*****

I have an ex-husband. I admit it.

It’s not that I hide my first marriage. Not in the least. My first marriage played a very big part in shaping the person I am today. I just usually refer to it indirectly (second marriage, second husband, etc.). If you have checked out my sidebar, you might have noticed that I acknowledge my ex-husband briefly. Very. Briefly. And then I go on to say that I don’t like to talk about him. EVER.

I hate my ex-husband. Hate him. Yes, I did just use the H word. And yes, I do know how harsh that sounds.

I met my ex when I was a senior in high school. My first job was at the local roller skating rink (remember those?) and my ex worked there too. We met and got along well enough and started dating about a month after I started working at the rink.

Our relationship…..overall…..was volatile. I can’t think of a better word to describe it. We fought A LOT. I wouldn’t say it was abusive. But it sure as hell wasn’t healthy. It took me years to figure out that I jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I used him as my excuse to get away from my family, which was dysfunctional with a capital D.

I fooled myself into thinking that I loved my ex and stayed in the relationship because the alternative to me was so much worse. It was either him or my family. And it was imperative that I stay away from my family. They were quicksand to me (but that’s a post for another day). So I stayed. Even though he treated me badly. Even through the drugs. Even through the lies.

And then we broke up for a while. Sure, I know NOW that the break up was the best thing. But then? Breaking up with my ex forced me back to my family, which by this time was totally falling apart. I didn’t want to be around that. I still felt I had to get away from them. So when my ex apologized, I took him back.

I was pregnant with my son soon after and we were married a few months later.

After my son was born (at least I think it was after), my ex started having unexplained seizures that left him on disability and without a driver’s license. We had to move in with his parents, which just added more stress and things were already bad between us. By the time he went back to work and we moved out, the relationship was in shambles. The lies started again. When I confronted him with the huge lie he had told all along about his health issues, I said it was over. I took my son and left.

I struggled on my own. And I made mistakes. HUGE mistakes. Mistakes that I still kick myself for. One of those mistakes gave my ex the foothold he needed to separate my son from me. After that, he filed for divorce. Before the divorce was final, I felt like I hadn’t given the marriage 100% effort. I know now that it really was about still staying away from my family. I just didn’t have enough faith in myself.

The lies continued. My ex said that he had a vasectomy. Can you guess what happened next? You got it. I wound up pregnant. Luckily, that pregnancy did not go to term. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like if we had another child together. I don’t want to.

Sadly, I stayed with him for quite a few more months. The divorce was final, but we were still dating. At some point, I FINALLY got a clue! I realized that I had given the marriage every effort, and that I deserved so much better. I told my ex that it was over.

To say he took it badly was an understatement. And he had the upper hand. He had my son. My ex knew that I wanted nothing to do with him, but he knew I wanted my son. And he used it against me every chance he got. When I moved out of state a few years later, I tried to work with my ex on a reasonable visitation, but he would have none of it. The day I left CA was the worst day ever. I didn’t see my son after that for 7 years.

My ex wasn’t planning to make it easy for me to stay in touch. He changed his phone number and refused to let me have it to try to keep me from contacting my son. He even took my son out of town on a weekend I drove back to CA. Yes, my ex knew I was coming. I made plans with him a month in advance. He was just being vindictive. I also knew he was bad mouthing me to my son (which was confirmed in a conversation my son and I had a couple of year s ago). He even told my son that if I attended his high school graduation, he wouldn’t be there. I showed up anyway (TAKE THAT MOTHERFUCKER!).

Thankfully, my son’s (paternal) grandmother made sure I was in his life. She is the primary reason I have such a good relationship with my son today. I will never forget her for that.

*****

I told you all of that because of the phone call I received from my son today. It started off as any other normal conversation. He wanted to get a phone number from me. The more he talked, though, the more I knew something was off. So I asked what happened. He said his father kicked him out last night.

And I wanted to kill my ex. Right fucking then and there.

My son was out here in Utah for a visit just a week ago. We talked about how things were at home. I was concerned at how my son described his father’s recent actions. They didn’t make sense to me. I wondered if his actions had anything to do with my son coming out to visit me. I kept it to myself, though, for my son’s sake. I only said here and there that I didn’t agree with certain things and that I didn’t understand why his father was being that way.

When my son went back home it seemed like things were going to be okay. He told his father he was going to move up to Sacramento because the city college there had space available in his degree (the junior college in Stockton where he currently lives is full). I supported his decision and it sounded like his father did too.

I don’t know what changed. And neither does my son. An argument yesterday culminated in my ex telling my son to get out and leave his keys. He also told my son that he is not allowed to call the house or his father’s cell phone. My son is not allowed to go to the house to get his things. Until this Thursday. For 3 hours. Seriously?!?!

I am at a loss. I don’t understand this at all. My son doesn’t do drugs. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He goes to his classes. He EXCELS in his classes. He is responsible. I DO NOT understand what could have happened that would justify this kind of reaction from my ex.

And it makes me wonder if it has to do with me. Is this my ex’s final vengeful act? He can’t use custody against me anymore, since my son is an adult. So is this his one last ditch effort to try to hurt me? I don’t know.

What does hurt me is that I’m not close enough to help my son. I want so badly to be there for him. But I can’t. And it kills me right now. I’ve been crying on and off since I got his call today. I know my son is strong and he will get through this, but I feel like he needs me. And dammit I’M HIS MOTHER! I should be there, right?

Good job, sperm donor. You get an A+ for acting like an ass and driving your son away. I hope you’re proud of yourself. Because in the end, YOU’RE the one who has truly lost.

Husband: Why is the TV screen all slobbery and gross?

Me: Umm…..I dunno. I can tell you what it WASN’T from. It was NOT from me making out with Tom Selleck last night.

Husband: Huh?

Me: Cuz that totally didn’t happen. It must have been the dog.

Husband: What dog? We don’t have a dog.

Me: WTF? What do you mean we don’t have a dog? How could you forget Fifi?

Husband: Fifi?

Me: Yes, Fifi! Our little cockapoo? The one that bit you on the leg last week?

Husband: YOU bit me on the leg last week.

Me: Nooooo. I was pulling Fifi OFF you. She was upset cuz you were ignoring her. I was trying to protect you. Your welcome.

Husband: We do NOT have a dog.

Me: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? It’s bad enough that you ignore her. Now you’re just being cruel.

Husband: *sigh*

Me: Shhhh! Magnum PI is coming on.

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure if any of that really happened. Except maybe the part about the TV screen being all slobbery and gross. Cuz I don’t need yet another restraining order.

What? You think Tom Selleck would make out with me in real life?

Yeah, me too.

Driving down Bangerter Highway, you will often see messages written in the fences that cross the highway.

In plastic cups. True story.

You will see anything from birthday messages to welcome home messages for missionaries. Even marriage proposals. They usually don’t last long. You might see the messages intact once as you drive by. The next time you pass by? The messages are most likely distorted, possibly even transformed into something totally different from the original message.

I took this picture on the way to work this morning. This message has been intact for I think 3 weeks now. I’m amazed at how much effort was put into it and at how respecful people have been to not destroy it. Of course now that I’ve said that…..well, you know.