How many years.......

.......would you have liked for me to wait for you to love me back? To be the answer to all of your questions? To be the sparkle in your eye?

I would rather be no one's something special than someone's nothing that great.

Closure. I found it in me instead of looking to you again.

The Search

Well, after a few snow days, it is back to school time. *sigh of relief* But, of course, until it is full swing of learning again, I have been trying to do some extra stuff.

I try to look over the real estate available in New York each day, just to get an idea of what area will destroy me financially the least. I think I have a job there, so that helps, but it kills me to think of the rent when I start to glance at the listings. So, imagine my surprise today at the listing for a one bedroom in Manhattan for $229. Yeah. I am trying to figure out what the stipulation is to that. Do I dress up in a cat suit and pretend to be someone's pet and they give me a pillowy bed to curl up on in the corner? Do I get 7 strangers to live in a loft? Do I get the boiler room as long as I am up to some repairs?

It made me realize that unless it is hideously overpriced, I do not trust it. Given, the 229 has got to be a misprint, but even at $650, my mind pictures the chalk outline I may have to decorate around in the living room.

I have started looking in advance though as I know my last experience with living out there. When I did find the perfect place, the family then decided to stay. First for a month, then two...it was like holding a lottery ticket every month waiting to see if I could move in. I finally gave up. They won. And now, I start the quest early to avoid the pain. Keeping those options open less I live in a hotel for two months.

My very favorite part of looking however was the "open house" on one particular place. The realty company said they had the perfect two bedroom. It was okay as apartments go, but I couldn't help but notice the absence of that second bedroom. When I asked, the realtor quickly opened the closet door in the bedroom.

Now, I can't lie, I would have probably been more thrilled at the idea of a walk-in closet than the second bedroom, but this was a new tactic for me in trying to be looped in to signing a lease. There it was, a closet. You could see the spackle from where the clothing rack once was. No bed would have fit, perhaps a cot, but it was ......a closet. I may have done the same thing to a visiting friend, said, "Here, this is your room." But hell, that would just be for entertainment purposes.

I said, point blank, "this is a closet."

"No, this is a bedroom," replied the realtor.

I always love that moment. That time in which someone is saying some utter bullshit to you, but is so calm and direct, that he/she is unwaivering in the statement of fact. They know you know, but without the assistance of time travel, it is impossible to argue. I can't PROVE it is a closet. Shoot, why not argue that it is a pet playroom? A cozy study? A breakfast nook? The darkroom? Have some fun with it. It really doesn't matter what we call it because in the end, I could do whatever I choose with this space, but it will still be my revamped closet.

So I look, each day, hoping to find my 1 bedroom with a closet. Or whatever you wanna call it.

My Dog Has a Hole in Her Side? WTF?

Last night, I had vowed to start posting some pieces I had been working on that actually A.) contained a story and B.) were not about my pets. I thought this was going well as I typed away, P. Diddlez by my side. She had been busy playing the day away at my parents' house, so she was quite content to curl up in her puppy ball and sleep. Very normal. She began to do some intense licking though. Again, no big deal, this happens from time to time, but with a snap of the fingers, she will chill. This worked for awhile, but then, more licking, same spot. I looked down at the little roll of puppy flesh behind the shoulder blade that seemed to be the problem. Nope. No blood or irritation, just puppy rolls. When once again licking ensued, I decided I should pull back the skin thinking perhaps a bug bite? A scratch? As I began to separate the skin, I was horrified to see that I was dismantling my dog! At first, it looked like a leach as I could see swelling and slick....stuff? Then I realized that, oh no, the Diddlez had a tear in her side. Not a small one either. She had a hole in her!

So, panic sets in: What happened!? How did I not notice this?! Why is there no blood or whining?! Shock!? Yeah, I freaked. She, on the other hand was just like, "Yeah, hole in my side. Whatever. Can I lick it and chill please?"

Now, mind you, Diddlez has a rather high pain tolerance. This is the same dog that I found as she was thrown out of a car, with every parasite known to man and beast, at five weeks old in front of a PetSmart. She stood in the dog catcher's truck wagging her tail and licking my fingers, just happy as can be. She had been called in to the pound immediately and it is illegal to intercept once they are documented FYI. I figured I would just go spring her from doggy jail, until I found out they can neither release an animal under 8 weeks old and/or with infectious parasites. "No kill" shelters can't even get to 'em. It became a bit of a battle that my vet had to be a character reference and give a full plan of treatment in writing. *I love my vet* I couldn't give up though. She had heart. She was a hard knock lifer and kindred spirit. She also smelled like raw sewage.(The also is intended to reflect her state. I do not have the sewage thing in common, to the best of my knowledge.) The first few days(sorry former patrons) she stayed in my car at work, AC on, so she could have meds/feedings every two hours. All her meds were in a bar cooler and each employee took breaks to go nurse her, followed by intense hand scrubbing as she was highly contagious. (Sorry health inspector. And to think people only worry about a roach or cross contamination!) It was a labor of love.

She is also notorious for a shock collar incident. We went on a cross country adventure a few years back and headed back to home sweet home to see Jesi. Jesi's landlord had this amazing garden with the invisible fence to keep the dogs out. The dogs had to wear a shock collar and the other dogs lived in fear. Sitting outside next to it one night, Diddlez comes to join us and sit down. Every couple seconds her face would contort from the electric current surging through the collar. She was above being shocked and just took it. In dog world, that's one hard ass bitch. She later taught the other dogs that if you just ran fast, you could drink from the serenity pool in the garden unfazed. It was a moment of pain. My Diddlez. Always with a plan.

Back to the matter at hand though, did this mean it was bad and she was just bein a soldier? I continued the path to panic, and called Syd. She would know what to do. She is my AKC dog whisperer. In cleaning it, we were not past the fatty tissue. No muscle. (sigh of relief) See, for po pet owners, the animal ER is scary. It is quality vet care at triple the price. Not that each one of these pets isn't worth it, but if it can be handled until morning, it is easier. I love my zoo, but as you can guess from Diddlez entrance into my life and the same for the others, I have about $10,000 worth of pet at this point. So, I now know that if she is calm, I have to be. Syd reinforced this and I thus spent the rest of the night keeping the licking to a minimum and comforting....well,....me mostly. Diddlez was still unfazed.

As the vet opened early today, we were there. It was odd. As I got her leash, which is normally a group signal for fun, Ike just layed there and Diddlez sighed, and then quietly walked over. It was as though she knew, "Here we go. Great."

I felt a little guilt relief as the vet techs came over to see their buddy (oh yeah, we know the vet quite well. Go figure) and said, "where is it?" Totally hidden until she wiggled to the side then BAM! Hole in the dog! It is frustrating to have no answer as to how or when it happened. I know it was at some point during her outside day, but neither her nor Ike were talking. It is a great mystery. No blood in the yard either. Just a hole in the dog.

At first, it looked like it would need to be handled surgically. As I had cleaned it the night before, it was a very clean cut though, so the doctor checked it out and agreed. Surgery wasn't the bad part, but I hate the idea of her being alone for the weekend in a cage. Very anti-Diddlez. She is part badger I think. The doc said I could go on about my day as it would take awhile, but I said I would stay for her comfort. He just laughed. Ok, for my comfort.

And, though it took three techs to hold her for anethesia, she was indeed a soldier. As the doc sewed the final stitch, he brought up that Diddlez would not work in a cone collar and would merely scratch what she couldn't chew. He recommended an amazing trick and sent me to the store for baby T-shirts. When bandages are a bad idea, use a snug T-shirt. Now, I am one of those people who highly believes that dressing up the family dog is ridiculous, although she will need a sweater once I move to the land of winter again, but Diddlez does look awfully cute in her sporty little red Tee. It is, however, rather hard to convert children's sizes to dog. Very hard.

We are resting comfortably now, and I have yet another pet post. Go figure. Now that Humpty is put back together again, we will try this again tomorrow.

I haven't bitched in awhile so.......

Now, I will start this by saying I can be rather secretive. Oddly, I will tell anyone anything about me you want to know, but I rarely let people know such things as my address, where I live, or my residence. Yes, I am a hermit, get it? I love to go out and be the life of the party, but I will find you should I wanna hang. If I deem you cool enough, you will be invited over, but I STRESS, this is not what I am about. So, here is my new problem.

Random pretty boy moved in awhile back with his girlfriend next door. She is mean, he is HOT. But, no big deal. I have someone, he has someone....and to be honest, he isn't my type. He is slick. More slippery in fact. Moreso than a salamander. Like the other night, he brushed against me going to his car. Not a situation where it was a tight space or a minor slip, more like a gentle massage of bodies. It was creepy as his girl was 10 ft. away fussing over the neighbor's dog. Weird.

Still, this is not a big deal. I just let it go. But, now he seems to want to hang out....alot. All the time. He comes by at all hours. So, I have been doing the same slick thing that I would do if some unwanted suitor was calling; I just don't answer. Yes, I know he knows I am home, but I could care less.(And I keep wondering, is there not a hint here?) Mind you, I do not even know this dude's name. But, he has crossed the line tonight. And, this has been my test. He twisted the fucking doorknob! Uh....HELLO?!?! I realize we are on this non-first-name-basis and all, but I wasn't quite ready to exchange keys. So, now I am in a bit of a pickle. I have to call him out, or rat him out to his chick which would probably serve better, but I can't. It is like I am on slimy dude house arrest. Does he wanna chill(screw)? Rob me? Make cookies? What slimey guy? What the fuck?

This does lead to an awesome couple of stories however, that I now feel like telling. See, a few years ago, an ex of mine shows up drunk beating on my door. I look out the peephole and see he is hiding something. After a brief exchange informing him that I have no intention of opening the door, especially whilst he is concealing something behind him, we began to have a slight dispute. He inevitably shows me that he has brought a tire iron. You know, the housewarming tire iron present? I love to show up at a friends home and say, "Hey, got a surprise for ya!" and thus whip out a tire iron. Some people value the look of surprise from an unwrapped gift. I like straight up fear and awkwardness. But, i am probably in the minority. Silly me.

Knowing that he will not use it, I only become pissed at this point. Not only is he intruding, but I feel a little violated. Angry even. So, I do what any pissed-off, fiery-bitch would do, I open the door and take it from him. I also start yelling at him. I was not very kind, but I do feel that one has a right to lose proper etiquette when a tire iron is involved. Now, he would argue at this point it was because he was scared of my neighbors. It is, in fact, a valid point. After we come to an agreement that he will leave and no, he does not get his tire iron back, my neighbor comes out high and packin, and asks if I want him to shoot him. Awww, and we think acts of neighborly kindness in society are gone?! I am a little(lot) unnerved by the whole situation. Though it is always handy to know you have that neighbor ready to catch a charge for ya, it just seems a bit extravagant. I do however have a coffee mug that I borrowed from that neighbor and failed to return. Oooh......I hope he isn't pissed about that one.

Now, I will say that this ex had a bad moment. Given, a real bad moment, but we are actually quite fine now. It is almost ha ha funny. Sure, a couple of you are like, that is sick, but for anyone who has had to see a shadier side of life, you know that laughing is the best remedy, no matter how heinous.

And, this brings me to the, "Thank God for the tire iron" story. See, I realized that I had no real protection against intruders. When living in a not so friendly part of Brooklyn once, I was keyed in on the cup of bleach by the door. It was fabulous I thought. I am big and talk tough, but I lack the real oomph to actually kick some ass. (Don't tell the people I have thrown out of the bars this.) I did know I could throw bleach in someone's face though if needed. This, had been a good idea until I had gotten dogs. I then lived in fear of some crazy bleach mishap where a dog would lose an eye and I would be at fault. So, the tire iron seemed to work. (I also keep a trailer hitch for a fist pack. I will go with the Britney excuse here and just say "we're country".)

Now, for those of you who have made it this far and don't think I am a complete psycho yet, I will say, I am probably one of the friendliest, most trusting people you can meet. However, I do have a bit of a temper if it is needed. Certain situations call for certain things. That noted, I will continue in a very offensive story.

I worked as a bartender until I was 9 months pregnant. Yes. I know. Odd. But non-smoking environment--ok? (Note: never ask a girl why she is bartending at 8 1/2 months. Or why she is working in general. It was my favorite. Like I had some secret hobby and adoration for being on my feet and putting up with drunk guys for long periods of time. Means to an end people.) Anywho, when I was roughly 8 months along, my neighbor (new one) had company in town. This neighbor was very nice, very cordial in passing. Good guy. His friend seemed to be the same way. They came into the bar one Saturday night and said hello. It was very busy so be it brief, we talked for a moment and thus went on about our duties.

As I got home that night, I was eager to just get off my feet. My parents had the dogs for the night (as some of you will ask about my bodygaurd), so I had the spot to myself and could relax. Until, a knock at the door. Since it was 4:30 in the morning, I was curious, so I peeped. Low and behold, it is my neighbors friend. I assumed something must be wrong so I opened the door. Big mistake. He tells me he can't sleep and if we can talk for a few minutes. As I tell him I am planning to go to bed, he just kind of slides on in. So, we sit on the couch and talk for a few moments and I then mention sleep again. I was not scared as he was the timid guy. You know the one. Can't talk to girls, shy, but a lil alcohol gives him a boost. He is easily controlled though. He is submissive, you can smell it on him.

As he gets up to leave, he says, "I probably shouldn't say this, but......."

Now, nothing good comes of that which shouldn't be said. I had in fact made this guy many martinis for the evening, so I have watched the decline of logic and judgement, so I brace myself.

"I have been waiting for you to get home."

Great. I have been waiting for you to say you brought avocados. Mmmmm. Avocados.

"My friend has told me about your situation."

Even better. My knight in shining armor. Drunk and creepy and in my space. Yes!

"I know what you need right now...."

Here it comes. The valiant declaration of what can be done for me. Avocados.

"and I am willing to lick that pussy and you don't have to do anything......."

Stop. What? There was more talking going on at this point, but I kind of tuned out. I know this STRANGER is not coming into MY space, while I am making the miracle of life happen and being all vulgar and hitting on me.......What? This is the type of shit I expect at the bar, but it sure as hell isn't coming into MY home. I am angry. And I own a tire iron.

So, I push him out the door as I grab the tire iron. He now has that "Surprise, I brought a tire iron" face. As I begin to sternly educate him on respect, in a bit of a forte vocalization, I also let him know that the best thing for him to be "willing to do" is go back to his friend's house and pass the fuck out before I beat his ass with a tire iron.

Perhaps I am not very likely to "beat someone's ass with a tire iron", but if I were, this would have been the moment. I think he knew it as he got very submissive rather quickly. He started to tear up.

I cannot picture what it looks like to see someone that pregnant screaming and getting ready to whoop someone's ass on her porch with a tire iron, but in my mind, and in one of my neighbor's minds, it is rather funny. Again, not quite ha ha, no, kind of ha ha. And, I think he may have wet himself a (insert pun here)wee bit.

He left rather abrubtly the next day never to return. I did mention to my neighbor who had been passed out, that should he return, well, I do still own a tire iron....that may have played into his distance. I have a feeling he hits on pregnant girls a little less now.

So, what is the point? Slimey dude, I do have a tire iron. And, hopefully, I can still convey a fucked up story in a moderately entertaining fashion as most of my stories are just that. Fucked up/moderately entertaining......you be the judge. Or maybe it is just a good indication that it is time to move.

and to 2007......

I have never been good at resolutions. I hate them. Mainly because I have consistently lived in the moment for as long as I can remember. I don't crave to be a better person as each year starts out, as I realize that, inevitably, shit will happen to knock me down, and thus things will come along to build me up. So I can't pinpoint what finished product I want to see in the next 365 days. Besides, I like that element of surprise. I will undoubtedly have at least 50 soul reallignments before the next switching of the calendar.

On the other hand, I love New Year's Eve. It is like the dawn of a slight chance that perhaps things will be so much better with the stroke of a clock. And this year is sooo magical. As I said goodbye to a hundred people I will probably never so much as pass on the street again (not out of avoidance, just outta life), I realized that this is where I finally get to live my dream. It makes me want to piss myself out of excitement and fear at the same time. It makes me believe. I have never wanted to settle. I am not pursuing a degree with a ten year plan. I do not wish for anything in particular that I do not already have. I don't want to believe in a false dichotomy of right and wrong. I would prefer to meander in some hazy grey area.

So, in this new year, though I wish everyone enough happiness to perma grin and enough heartbreak to hope, I hope that some things just stay the same. I am just happy being me again...........finally. And I will never apologize for that.