Portrait.

Well I survived suburbia again.  This time, there wasn’t a speck of drama (for me at least.)  It was a breath of fresh air.

The formalities.  All of Los Angeles should rejoice knowing that I got a GPS.  I also got a violin, some makeup, a scarf, and a couple of items of clothes.  It wasn’t a horrible haul, but I didn’t get everything I wanted.  So, I decided to get myself a little present.  I’m buying myself a Flip camera before CES.  A little present to myself for being such a good.. erm. Yeah.

My son (6) got a few things.  He went on and on about how he wanted a skooter. I made sure he got it.  And clothes.  I’ve never seen a child so grateful he got clothes.  Each time he’d open a box with some, hed smile and rave about it before rushing to his room to put it away.

I wonder…

He had a good Christmas.  Spoiled rotten between me and his grandparents.  He was happy.  I was happy.

My cousins came over later and prepared dinner.  Ethan and I played on the Wii.  His older cousins came by and joined us.  It was like no one else was there though.  Just him and his mommy.

At work we shoot off nerf guns in the office.  When the shipment comes in, there’s a line to get them.  It’s a little perk of the office.  I love my job sometimes.  It’s very relaxed there to a degree.

I decided to get a few.  One for Ethan, one for me at work, one for the grip, and one for me when I was with Ethan.

I called all my moms side of the family and a few very close friends.  If I didn’t call you, please do not take it personally.  It was a very busy day.

All he would talk about when asked.. was that nerf gun.

“Hold on a minute.  My mom’s not looking so I need to shoot her in the butt.”

I’d hear giggling one minute and the next…

I felt like I was a kid again.  That was the tone of the day.  Me and my son having a war… my dad telling us not to run around the house with them.

And it was a good great visit.

I decided to stay the night there rather than head back here to the city.  It was time for Ethan to go to bed.  I had him read me stories.  My dad came in and told him he needed to wash up.

I whispered to my son “Tell  your grandpa you’re on vacation so you should be able to stay up a little later with mom.”

He tried.

“Go wash up.  You have to go to bed.  You can play with mom a bit more in the morning.”

Ethan changed and I tucked him in.

“Snug as a bug in a rug.”

He smiled and gave me a kiss.

Dad came in.  He grabbed a stuffed monkey next to Ethan and handed it to him.  Pulled the sheets up a little bit over and kissed him goodnight.  And before I knew what was happening, he did the same for me.

Ethan giggled.

“Ha ha.  It’s time for mom to go to bed too!”

My son held me like a teddybear and we went to sleep.

It was quite frankly the best sleep I’ve had in months.

Obsessive much?

Today’s off topic rant is brought to you by kids who don’t shower and parents that want to get their kid in the AP so badly they will succumb to a publicity stunt.

Ok so you love your team. You love that one specific player. Let’s show your undying adoration for said player by wearing their jersey for 4 years solid! Dear the parent of this 12 year old kid, whiskey tango foxtrot? Seriously.

I was logging in to check my family email account when I saw this story. Horray for more traffic for that!

There’s a difference between a “Linus blanket” that wearing a fucking shirt for that long. It’s obsessive. It’s cult worthy. It’s absolutely ridiculous. It’s a scream for attention. I know I’m not the only one thinking it’s stupid. I’m just bitch enough to say it.

From a journalistic standpoint, and from a parent’s standpoint, it’s a bit disgusting in some ways. There’s a big difference between supporting your kids’ dependency on something that gives them comfort than letting them wear the same damn shirt for 4 years. The line is way back there. It screams publicity stunt. Hell even after a couple of years it’s in the same boat. The joke is only funny for so long. Then you just have to roll your eyes and be parent enough to say “um, no.”

Parental intervention seems to be either too much or not enough these days.

Wow I sound like a square now. I’m going to go look in the mirror just to make sure it’s my face looking back and not my mother’s. That whole thing about becoming your parents when you get older.. to some extent, it’s totally true. Scary. I need to go work out now or something.

Oh and the absolute worst part of this story is that of all teams.. of all players.. it had to have been a Brett Favre jersey. Eww Green Bay cheesers. Gag me.

There’s only one thing that can fully encompass the feeling I have about that… here goes:

Cracks the whip

The inspiration for tonight’s early morning tale was inspired by the following tweet by the lady-fair @avflox:

It made me chuckle for obvious reasons… more than you know.

I come from a very conservative Catholic family background. I am the cliche “Catholic school-girl-gone-bad.” My mother “has only slept with 2 people in [her] life, and married both of them!” She has called me promiscuous but denied calling me a slut. I told her that when she wants to try and use big vocabulary like that, she may want to consider looking at a thesaurus if only to make sure she was saying what she truly wanted. I know she had to have known its synonymous with slut and said it intentionally but was trying to patronize me.

I like to consider myself a bit of a modernist. My mother calls it “free love” for the new age. I guess to a degree that she’s partially right.

Mom and I have had a few discussions about her displeasure with me being this way… the habitually dating, the alternative lifestyle, the bi-sexuality, etcetera, etcetera. If only she knew more about the aka. Actually, I think it’s better that she doesn’t. The last detail was enough for both her and dad (who never agree on anything) to agree on something. I’m glad I could be that one thing. Even if they don’t necessarily view it in a positive level.

The coming out stories separately were about the same. My parents reacted in the best possible matter.. totally ridiculously.

Dad’s story was pretty tame. I forget why and when it actually came out about me being bi, but I do remember it was post high school. He found out later, so it probably affected him less. In high school, I was a bit of a difficult pill to swallow… but more so for my mom because I was stuck living with her against my will- making for some very angsty teenage book fodder.

When dad heard, he honestly didn’t believe it. I think he really just thought it was some sort of attention seeking thing or some outright lie. I am my dad’s favorite. Never in his eyes, could he ever view me as negatively as he does the gay culture.

Even when I had a steady serious girlfriend, I’d ask dad “So when are you going to believe me? I’m not kidding about this.” Dad said “It’s just a phase…”

Poor dad. He’s still holding his breath for me to be over that phase.

Mom though? She’s actually completely accepted it now. It’s not something she views as positive. However, nothing that I do is positive in my mother’s eyes.. so it makes perfect sense to her coming from me.

One night, she had to pick me up from being out on another all nighter with a friend I had been forbidden to hang out with. It was a long, crazy night and it ended up in a car accident.

My friends and I were alright. We had been out all night and went to a doughnut shop early in the morning. Two of the guys were being asinine to the owner, and he threatened to call the cops. We left in a rush, and when Rachel was going to turn onto the main street, she didn’t see the truck, so it t-boned us. It was standard for everyone in an accident to be checked by an ambulance or have our parents sign off on it.

Rachel’s mom got a call. She saw me and her daughter in the back of an ambulance. We both were “scantily clad”- me in black combat boots, fishnets, short shorts and some low cut top. Mom was called and had come to get me. She was livid. I was in deep shit.

The usual dialogue started “What did I ever go wrong with you…” “There’s nothing majorly traumatic that’s happened to you.. I just don’t get it…”

I told her 2 major things that had happened. Apparently she had been oblivious to them. However, it still wasn’t cracking anything. She continued on this tangent. Finally, I told her the one thing that I knew she likely wouldn’t pick up on. I told her about how I had been interested in a couple of girls from school and from a coffee shop I regularly hung out at.

“I’m bi mom. I like girls too.. ”

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But then my mom looked at me seriously and started to bitch “You mean you like to lick cunts and put your face in pussy?!”

At 17, I responded the only natural way one could: “Stop it mom, you’re turning me on thinking about those girls…”

She didn’t find it funny. Still doesn’t to this day. Me? I couldn’t have asked for a better response actually. I guess the sadistic side is showing a bit now. Ooops 😉