The Web That Is My Own

There was a bake sale at work the other day. We have them often; they raise money for the kick-ass Christmas parties we have every year.

I walked in and saw a boardroom table laden with goodies: brownies, cookies, pies. And in that second, inside my head, I saw myself eating ALL of it.

I backed away, but it was already too late; you can't really walk into a bake sale and walk out again unnoticed. I had to explain myself.

So I made some lame joke about not wanting to eat everything (which was true) and said that I have a problem with food (which was also true). I really should just shut up.

My co-worker, who is larger than I am, was not impressed.

I was not always this size, and it's easy for people to forget that I lost a third of my body weight a few years ago through ten months of hard work and dieting. I still struggle with the urge to overeat, and I KNOW that I could have eaten everything on that table without a second thought. I am not a skinny bitch, I swear. I am a skinny glutton.

I used to think that people who talked about being sober alcoholics were weirdos. If you're sober, you're not an alcoholic, right? I now know exactly what they mean. They're talking about the constant struggle to fight off the urge to do something they don't want to do and yet DESPERATELY want to do. I was insensitive to question their description of that struggle, even inside my head.

People at work have said that I have great willpower. This is usually in the context of bake sales or someone's birthday cake. They don't realize that I have absolutely no willpower at all. If I ate some of the cake, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from eating far too much of it. It's easier to walk away and pretend that I have some self-control.

That I hide my weed in my spice cabinet?
Oh well.

I just saw pictures online of a person that was quite horrible to me in my last community.

I see she has gained a lot of weight.

That made me smile.

But then I felt bad.

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I don't necessarily like that the only things I can think of to post are kind of petty little nigglies about an ex boyfriend.
But that's part of what makes the secret blog secret. His mom reads my REAL blog and I don't want to be a total bitch... or really admit that some things still bother me.

Annoyance #1.) the man and I broke up because of a couple different reasons, the main one being he really didn't want to commit to anything serious. A year and a bit later, he has a baby.

Annoyance #2.)  -- very closely tied to annoyance #1.) they moved in together shortly after we broke up and have bought a house together.

Annoyance #3.) I'm not that vain, but seriously, I am better looking than her.

Annoyance #4.) They produced an ugly child. Hopefully it will get better looking with age.

Okay, maybe that last one isn't so much of an annoyance. Maybe it's a little bit of an observation that makes me want to do a happy-dance.
I am fully aware that I'm not able to let this go because really, I can't get over MYSELF. I can't see what in the world makes this woman better than me, more worthy of commitment than me. I can't stand the thought that I could possibly be THAT intolerable.

Adding insult to injury is the fact that I really do know that when we were together, he was no catch. Now, he may have stopped drinking now (and only by court order, I might add), and I know that I needed to NOT be in that relationship anymore...

But I can't help but feel that little sting.

Because I really did love him.

I have an agreement with my husband: If he cleans the house, I will have sex with him.

Sure, this may sound excessively transactional after our many years together. Go ahead and judge me. It works.

I wouldn't call myself a neat freak. It would be more accurate to say that over time, the messiness that collects in my house slowly drives me crazy, and eventually I snap. I have been known to walk around with a garbage bag, throwing out-of-place items away.

I can't identify the precise moment at which I lose my mind. It isn't Piece of Mail #17 or Dirty Sock #5. Well, it might be either of those things. What I mean is that it is an art, not a science. It may be some indefinable combination of dirt on the kitchen floor and congealed leftover cereal. I think I am pretty laid-back about messiness most of the time, but I can't handle a total takeover of disorder. My stress level was rising all week. I made pointed comments and emptied the dishwasher while glaring at my family.

By Saturday night, I was furious. I did not have a garbage bag. Instead, I walked around staring pointedly in the direction of the biggest messes. After some heated words, I decided to go to bed early. No point in fighting.

I awoke to find that he had cleaned the house. He'd even Swiffered the floor. It was very sexy.

I decided that since he'd gone the extra mile, I should, too. I pulled out my Naughty Mrs. Claus outfit. (Naughty Mrs. Claus is always good for a party of two, but I do not recommend her for the office Christmas party: she's a bit of a ho-ho-ho.)

And when it was all finished, I rolled over to find him checking Facebook on his iPhone. Damn.

Ever leave a friendship without any remorse, just thankfulness that you managed to get their family secret recipe before you left?

I have.

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You know what really cheeses me off?
I'm awake at 2 am still working on a breaking news story for tomorrow.
I got the call at five, jumped in my car and drove my ass down here and started interviewing people.

My colleague, a national reporter, got on an airplane, and arrived five hours after I did.
We met up, he saved all the interviews I did to his computer.
Wrote a story using those interviews, clipping sound bites for his piece.
And then went to bed.

I, on the other hand, am still awake.

And annoyed.

This whole trend of "national" reporters swooping in and getting all the credit for my legwork and my stories really BLOWS.

And I would have written this on my own blog, because I'm THAT kind of annoyed...
But coworkers (past and present) could then read it.
And my mom would chew me out for publicly criticizing my employer.
And it's not worth the bother.

I'm putting everything in place, trying to finish off certain projects and get the rest of them to a point where they don't need my active involvement.

Only a few of my friends know, but I'm becoming a bit paranoid. Every so often, I'll be asked to work on a long-term project. I'll hesitate, wondering if it is a test. I say sure, I'll work on it. And then I try to come up with a way to keep from leaving them in the lurch when I disappear. Because I am going to disappear.

My boss asked me to come up with a workplan. I haven't done this. Sure, I suppose I could, but is there really any point? It would be a meaningless table filled with timelines the next person would never be able to meet. Maybe I should do it anyway, just so I don't feel totally guilty. It's just a table. Anyone can put together a meaningless table filled with timelines that will never be met, right?

I am putting off telling my boss until the last possible moment. He has no idea I'm planning to leave. At least I hope he doesn't.

My MIL got a call from a survey company asking if she would vote Conservative if a federal election was called right away.

I hope the Conservatives keep their minority government.

It's not that I like the Conservatives, or their policies or politics, or even Stephen Harper. I actually kind of dislike all of those things. But I think the Liberals wouldn't be significantly better, and if we had a change of government, people would be hoping for change that wouldn't come. I'd rather go on being disappointed than be let down yet again. That would be even more disappointing.

Over the weekend, I heard these two stories.  These are true stories. I could never post them on my blog because I find one of them funny and the other I agree with.  Due to the content, if people knew I found story #1 funny and agreed with #2, I would probably be tarred and feathered.  I think I'm safe here, though.  Thanks goodness for this blog.

Story #1

A woman recieves a phone call at work from her son.  "MOM!  MOM!  I caught a troll!  I caught a troll!  Come and see!  He's going to spin gold for us!  We're going to be rich!"

"What are you talking about?" the mother responded.  As it turns out, the son is 30 yrs old and has autism (or some other congnitive delay) coupled with bi-polar disorder.  He's been on his own his whole adult life and maintains an appartment on his own.  The mother checks in on him first thing in the AM and again after she finishes work.  He does not pose a threat to himself or others in anyway.  It is not uncommon for him to call and say unusal things since his view of the world is a bit different than others. 

"Come and see!  Come and see!  I caught a troll.  He's going to spin gold for us.  We're going to be rich!" 

"I'm at work right now.  I can't come over.  I'll be there at 5 pm after I'm done work." 

But the phone calls did not stop.  The son called repeatedly.  By late afternoon, the mother gave up and asked her boss if she could leave to tend to her son.  Her boss had no issue letting her go home early.

When she arrived at her son's appartment, he lead her into his bedroom.  He was very excited.  She saw that the bed and dresser were pushed up against the closet doors.  She heard some movement in the closet.

Upon opening the closet door, she discovered a little person cringing in the corner of the closet....just scared shitless.  Poor bugger.  He'd been there for over 4 hours.  Locked in the closet.  With no food.  No water.  No bathroom.  And the whole while he was kept captive he had to listen to the excited screams and ravings of a burly 30 yr old man saying, "The troll will spin us some gold!  We're going to be rich!"

The mother released the little person and after some discussion, she got the story.  The little person was a Jahova's Witness doing his daily rounds of spreading the word.  When he knock on her son's door, the son's eyes went wide.  The son, never having seen a little person before, assumed the little person was Rumplestilken.  He quickly scooped up the little person and imprisoned him.

The little person did not press charges.  He did say that he will never do his rounds again without his partner who was sick that day.

Story #2

There was a party.  Young adults were drinking.  One of the guys at the party went postal on his girlfriend.  He yelled and screamed so much that the other guys at the party got between them and tried to calm the man down.  It did not help.   During his lunatic ranting, he used a rock to smash the window of his truck that the girlfriend was driving while she was sitting in the driver's seat.  He opened the door and threw her out of the truck.  He got in and drove off.  The girlfriend called the RCMP. 

Now, here comes the good part.  The part that in public I would pretend to be horrified at hearing but secretly giving a thumbs up to the RCMP for doing this.  I could never admit this publically.

The RCMP catch up with the guy and pull him over.  They asked him to get out of the car.  They then said, "Here's what we do to drunk drivers."  They beat the living shit out of the guy. 

Good job RCMP!  Granted you behaving that way is very, very wrong for so many reasons but, meh... the guy needed some sense knocked into him.

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These sex stories are great. I'm a parent, so mine goes like this:

"HURRY UP! He's getting out of the shower!"

I have to brag.  I had a quickie this morning.  YES!  A quickie.  I feel like such a teenager.  I made a comment to my husband about a good dream I was having, and next thing I know he's back in bed (he was getting up for work).  It was awesome!  My husband is a very conservative guy, but OMG he's awesome in bed!  15 years and he still makes me blush.

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What happens if my desire for sex never returns?  Right now I attribute it to busy schedules and lack of sleep due to children.  I would take a full night of sleep over the most amazing mind-blowing sex without a second thought.

I cannot be the only other person out there feeling like a disappointment to my partner (even though my partner never complains) and worried that the intimacy will never return.  Or am I?

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I wish that I was pregnant. We are into month six of trying and it's
starting to scare me that nothing is happening.

Every time I hear of a friend, an acquaintance or even a celebrity who
is pregnant, I panic even more. The rumors that Mariah Carey is pregnant
are making me crazy.

Seeing white trash hicks who are just bad people on Maury who have
babies and/or are pregnant infuriate me.

I hope our time comes soon.

In a sick sort of way, it's good to know I'm not the only author here who's just biding their time and looking for another job.

I mean, I'm sorry that you guys are dealing with lousy work situations, too. But at least I'm not alone.

My Job that is. I'm tired of it and want it to go away. I have considered leaving several time. Just wanting out. Throwing in the towel.
I use use to love my job, I was good at it. I still am good at it. Actually every day I have people tell me this, but I just don't enjoy it anymore.
Maybe I feel held back from it now. Maybe in my mind I think I could be doing so much better, then again that is in my mind.

Do I make any sense?

Lets just say I quit my job. What would I do then. I would no longer have financial stability. Would something come along that I would actually enjoy doing. What qualifications do I even have anymore. Could I make the things I enjoy a job. What what I have seen, that doesn't come easy.

Does a person stick what there good at and what is stable or do they follow the things the really enjoy and hope the money comes?

A friend of mine has a secret blog, and she writes about me. It's not a group secret blog. She doesn't know that I know.

A friend of mine has a secret blog, and she writes about me. It's not a group secret blog. She doesn't know that I know.

I feel like I'm less intelligent than my partner.

I don't like to have intellectual conversation or debates with him, play games with him, or tell him about my work because I feel like I just can't measure up to him. I never know what to say and I never have the immediate knowledge to put out an opinion like he seems to. It could be that we're just so divergent in our interests and areas of expertise that I just don't have a chance to show any knowledge. Even if I wanted to, I don't think he'd be at all engaged by talking about what I know or what I'm good at. It just feels really crappy to always feel like you're less than someone else, especially someone you love.