our Guardian Angel

we, that is, my six-year-old son Nicholas and I, have a Guardian Angel. and that GA just happens to be an ex of mine. loooooong story. Do you have a few minutes? *smiles invitingly*

i am 36, GA is 37. 

As teens, we both went to a lot of the same shows — hardcore shows — and his circle of friends overlapped with my circle of friends. I broke up with my high-school / college boyfriend, Espana, and hooked up with GA. i say we– me and GA–  were together for 5yrs when technically it was only two and a half. but since he was a better boyfriend for the two and a half years that followed out “technical” break-up, i say 5yrs.

the first 2.5yrs began when i was 19, he was 20. it was good. well, it was okay. his friends annoyed me with their pretentious attempts at pretending they were more intelligent than they were. but AFTER we broke up, we met three or four times a week for awesome sex — this was because the girl he broke up with me for got off work at two or three morning, and i’d get home a bit after midnight, and GA and I’d  have awesome sex, then he’d eave and he’d pick her up after work like a good boyfriend. *sarcastic lol*

(I should point out that while GA and I were “officially” dating, this girl met me & knew we were together yet STILL went for him. However, she had one thing on her side: she was friends with all of his friends while I thought them to be a group of pretentious wanna-bes after they watched a Nostradamus video & decided he wasn’t the quack he is *serious lol*)

After GA and I “broke up”, we did things we said we’d do while we were together. We took a trip upstate by car. We tripped on shrooms. We actually TALKED and got to know each other.

Then I moved to Park Slope, a few blocks away from him. we had one of those “last time” sex get-togethers. And I got pregnant.

I wasn’t going to tell him, after all, we weren’t together, and I had the money to raise a child. Then I received some bad advice: if I didn’t tel him and he sa us & recognized Jacob as his son, he could take me to court and get full custody.

So I told GA.

And he freaked.

I asked him to sign away his rights as a parent and I wouldn’t ask for a penny in child support. No go.

I’d always been pro-choice, just not for me.

But I did it.

I don’t want to get into it — still too painful — but I, who will not let another person kill a chicken for me, killed my own child.

I had just fought, and beat, cervical cancer. Here I was, pregnant, with a very, very, VERY small chance of actually carrying the baby to (full) term, and I did it. I won’t get into the reasons now because, even though Jacob would’ve been born around the beginning of March 2000, it is still painful.

So let’s fast forward a few years. I kill Jacob, I decide if I get fat no guy will want me, I start working on getting fat, I date a guy who is like a child, then I get together with my sons dad, a.k.a. Bad Dad or BD. We have an AMAZING child, my son, Nicholas. Then I bump into GA.

Turns out we live a few blocks away from each other and in the (almost) ten years since we’ve seen each other, he has grown up, matured — a lot. He’s actually a MAN. *gasp*

After ND and I break up, GA becomes my, how hall I put this politely?, my Booty Call. Only probem is I haven’t actually gotten off yet, but I’ve come close. Most of it is psychological — even though BD has his arem of 20-yr olds, I still feel like I’m cheating on BD. Go figure.

So, BD has screwed me out of so many cell phones it would take hours to explain it all. Suffice to say, he got me a tmobile phone on his plan, a family share plan, and told me it woud be good for two years. Bull poop!!!

Guess who came to the rescue? Of all people, the one who is the reason for me being fat, the reason for my breakdown, my Guardian Angel. He gave me the money so I wouldn’t lose the number. I had to switch carriers but, as of ten a.m. this morning, the carrier BD has told me, “he hasn’t paid the phones go off at midnight”.

And so life does work in circles. I guess. I’m not sure what life lesson you can take away from this. All I know is that my son and I have a Guardian Angel, and he lives a few blocks from us.

Thank  You, Guardian Angel 🙂

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Bad Dad, Part 1

i suppose i could start this by reposting the beginning of a blog i started on MySpace a couple of years ago. it turned out to be about my sons dad, BD, though it didn’t start out that way. all you would need to do is change that girlfriends name from “Creepy” to the current one, “Stuff”, and really you’d have all the info you need to know.

so, where are we in this redundant tale of my ex. (oh! i can’t tell you how hapy it makes me to be able to write that he is my ex. i feel free! literally, like i could fly. for the first time in EIGHT YEARS i don’t have to look over my shoulder when i walk down the street. i don’t have to delete phone calls and texts off of my cell. i can read my emails & my friends –what’s left of them — will know that the replies really did come from me aand not my EX posing as me! Let’s all have a drink to that! lol)

ah, yes. my son has a receital of sorts this wednesday. i convinced him to invite his dad since his dad isn’t working and really just sits about doing crystal meth and crack with the girl who got him fired. (BD had been saving for his own place. a great idea, i thought; maybe it would help him grow up. i wouldn’t let BD live with us, his family didn’t want him there, so, knowing this, stuff gets him fired. where can he go? oh, coincidentally stuff quit her internship at the same time & he can move in with her. he loses 30lbs in the first month, gets the dark circles, and, if possible for one who is schizotipic, gets even more paranoid.) well, despite having nothing better to do than get high, BD said, “I’ll see…if i’m not busy…” (he doesn’t follow conversations very well lately *raised eyebrows*) finally, on thursday, after numerous texts, calls, and asking in person, i told him we were going to invite someone else. no answer.

friday, BD picks up my son (i’d say “our” but he has contributed nothing positive to my sons life. only negative.). i forgot to ask what time BD would bring my son home on sunday, so i called no answer. i text, “what time will he be home sunday?” on and on for almost two hours, by which point i was about to call the police and had already sent texts to BDs younger sister and mother. he calls & says, “i don’t have to answer when you call every 30 seconds.” i reply, “I wouldn’t have to call every 5 minutes if you would answer the first time.” of course he would’ve felt stupid if he wasn’t so burnt.

this morning i send him a text asking if he could pick up some socks from the dollar store. apparently he couldn’t since he had to buy himself a large dunkin donuts coffee…

oh, this is boring even me.

so with this new freedom i have, i was seeing a girl who went a little off the rails on me. then there was that flirtation with the 20yr old boy (hey, stuff is 20! at least my 20yr old works, goes to school, doesn’t look 15yrs older than he is from doing copious amounts of crack and meth.). i am tempted to pull over ShyBoy and say, “you do know i am not looking for a boyfriend, right?” because how could he not be into me, unless he isn’t into fluffy chicks but then i could explain how my EX kept me fat and now that i was going to lose the weight it would be more fun with a partner… oh, give it up.

ShyBoy does have a good-looking co-worker who gave me his #. although i was really hoping for a woman. after all, BD is the ONLY guy i’ve ever given up women for. (*bangs head against wall* stupid stupid stupid)

i’m thinking this might be more interesting if i wrote about, um, sex? my booty call is an ex, a somewhat friend, a cool guy, even if he did cause my nervous breakdown by forcing me into an abortion i knew i’d never emotionally survive. but after 6 or 7 booty calls, i haven’t gotten off ONCE! and i have freaking directions! (a hood piercing. also left and right outer labia, both nipples, navel… but “go for the hood!” it’s in the freaking middle! lick your middle finger&make swirleys lol it’s not hard.) still, he is like BD, minus the temper.

see, BD and i are into the same reading material, we like watching the same things, we have the same stupid / sick sense of humour, and the sex is amazing! but that temper. which leads to BD treating my — our — son like crap, and then treating me like crap. i just can’t deal plus, my son is #1.

its hot in here. maybe i’ll take another shower and curse the fact that i get $ to buy an air conditioner AFTER memorial day sales. BD promised we’d get his mom’s unused but still working a.c. but then when i told him no sex, he said no a,c, even tho our son needs it medically & will dehydrate without it. nice guy, huh?

i need a cigarette. Marlboro Ultra Light 100’s here i come… (now how does Slash do his emoticon with the top hat and cigarette? i just take off the top hat…)

ACS SUCKS BIG FAT HAIRY UNWASHED BALLS

We got a new acs (childrens services) case about a month ago. Against BD (Bad Dad), my son’s dad, of course, as usual, etc. I get drug tested asap. Me, who gets tested WEEKLY anyway at my methadone program. My methadone program which, by the way, would call childrens services IF I turned in a dirty urine BEFORE they would even tell me. But BD & the girl he’s living with who talked to her co-workers about how much she LOVES crystal meth and crack? But BD, who lost at least 30 pounds in the first month of living with her, who has become even more paranoid (if possible) and developed dark circles under his eyes? He JUST got his test. That idiot of a worker — I really liked her in the beginning but she is a fucking moron — gave him THREE WEEKS to get clean & claims “it was a surprise”. BULL FUCKING SHIT!!!!! He knew from the second we had a new case that he and florida white trash were getting tested. They had three fucking weeks to get clean. There was no fucking surprise involved. BD KNEW that I was going to bitch whine moan beg etc until they were tested. I’ll bet they had a huge fucking meth / crack party after getting tested. (my angel of a son is here. More later after BD picks him up)

ROBIN HOBB, WRITER

<Note: Robin Hobb also writes under the name Megan Lindholm>

ROBIN HOBB is best known for her trilogies: The Soldier Son Trilogy, The Farseer Trilogy, The Liveship Trader Trilogy, and The Tawny Man Trilogy. All but the Soldier Son Trilogy take place in the same area; The Tawny Man Trilogy is actually a continuation of the Farseer Trilogy. Astute readers will also notice that one of the main characters in the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies appears in the Liveship Traders Trilogy. Hobb also has two books of a possible trilogy which continues the Liveship Traders Trilogy, albeit with different characters (although some of the characters from the Liveship Traders show up in minor roles.) I have read every one of Hobb’s trilogies, with the exception of the Soldier Son Trilogy — I have just finished the third book in that series, titled Renegade’s Magic. Each one of Hobbs books has been hard to put down once I started reading, yet it took me two tries (and some encouragement from a Twitter friend) to continue and finish Renegade’s Magic. I freely admit I skimmed more than a few pages of this book. This in no way implies that I think you should overlook Robin Hobb if Fantasy is one of your favourite genres. I would merely suggest that you begin with another of her trilogies. My personal favourite is the Liveship Trader series, which was my introduction to Hobb as a writer. I began the first book of the trilogy, Ship of Magic, and was able to read almost half of it before I left the place — and the book — behind. Hobb’s paperbacks are easily ovver 600 pages, so reading half was not easily done in two days. But manage it I did; though it meant I had to carry the book with me everywhere I went. After leaving that unmentionable place, I searched for hobb’s books at the local Barnes & Noble, but my memory failed me. It was almost two years later when I found, quite by chance, the book I had started so long ago, in plain sight on a library shelf. I was overcome with joy. Not only at finding the book, but because I found all three books in the series and was able to check them out and read them in record time. The Liveship Traders Trilogy deals mainly with the daughter of a shipping family. As their father has three daughters, and Althea is the oldest and most experienced, she expects to inherit the Liveship. A Liveship is made from wizard wood, a substance that is able to withstand more than the average ship. In addition, after three generations have died on the ship, the masthead becomes lifelike, and is able to help guide the ship where it might otherwise not be able to go. So this inheritance is not a small thing but, as Althea has sailed with her father on the ship since she was a child, she is devestated when, after her fathers’ death, the Liveship “quickens” or becomes “alive” and is left to the middle sisters husband. The tale is engrossing and I cannot recommend it highly enough. The Farseer Trilogy is the first part of the Tawny Man Trilogy. This does not mean you should skim through the Farseer trilogy, as it stands on its own as a complete story. However, I will admit, it did take me a few chapters to become as engrossed in the series as I was with the Liveship trilogy — which held me captive from the first page. But once it gets going, the Farseer trilogy is worth it, as is the Tawny Man. I will get back to you about Soldiers Son. I have only just finished the third book and, as I said, it took two tries to get into it and I did skim liberally. Maybe I’m just more interested in Liveships and (spoiler alert!!!) dragons but after I read the first two books I will complete this review. For now, start on any of the trilogies except Soldiers Son. Enjoy 🙂

Big Bang, Wet & ShyBoy (who will be kissed–by me…or not)

 monday

I suppose I could go on about how I had to walk out into a rainstorm with more force than my shower, only to get splashed and COMPLETELY head-to-toe soaked by a passing car running through a huge puddle. But it would probably be more interesting to know that ShyBoy WILL be kissed (by me) by the end of the week or I give up. Then again, the conversation I had with his mom, my primary care dr, about taking out my genital piercings for an mri might be even more interesting…

(my son is out of the bathroom; back to watching Big Bang Theory…)

Tuesday

I would like to say that the comments / Vanity Cards Chuck Lorre places at the end of his tv shows (Big Bang, Two and a Half Men) are definitely worth reading. You can Google them, of course, but for a bibliophile such as myself, a small printing in book format would be much appreciated, Mr. Lorre’s Assistant (HINT HINT).

It has also been pointed out to me that using a spell-check might not be such a bad idea. To which I replied, “yes but my previous blog would STILL state that cigarettes “cAst” a lot” (as opposed to “cOst” a lot). As it usually takes me a few hours (or days) to come up with the perfect come back, I was rather impressed. Bazinga!

(short break)

Alrighty then. ShyBoy was asked if it would be “weird” if I gave him my # last Wednesday, giving him an easy out. (he could say no for any number of reasons: his mum is my dr, he’s young enough to be my son, he’s the only 20yr old male who would turn down a “fun, mostly sexual” relationship with “no strings / stress attached” — though I didn’t get to explain all that yet, etc) Monday I asked if he was going to “use what I gave him& he said “yes”, jumping over yet ANOTHER chance to “get me off his jock” lol (hope I used that right).

So. Tomorrow. Wednesday. Parenting Class by choice. And a chance to see him, assuming he is there…they’ve got more than one office & if he isn’t in the one I’m at… well, fuck it. I’ll just go to the other& make a fool of myself. I will wear something that shows off my (truly) glorious breasts, and I’ll lean in close & ask if he’s getting off work at 2pm. (Monday he said he got off work at 2pm since he took classes; hence the lack of a lunch break.) he will say that yes, he does get off work at 2pm & I will offer to ride the train with him. Then we will take the train and while we are on the platform waiting for said train, I will turn to him & kiss him.

Of course, he could say that he doesn’t get off work at 2pm, or he isn’t interested, etc.

either way, if that boy does not get my full lips against his tomorrow, I give up. Because I am not used to being this forward with boys, anyway, and it’s not entirely comfortable.

It would be much easier if I were to go in tomorrow and instead of giving me that oh-so-cute smile & a wave, he asks if I can wait until 2pm. Then I can stand a little taller so he gets a good look at the aforementioned glorious breasts, pause to think, and then agree.

I have found, from a very recent experience, that if the build-up between the initial contact / onset of the crush and the actual first kiss goes on for to long, all is lost. The “moment” is gone, and there is no spark.

Wednesday

ShyBoy was NOT at work today. *blows loud, wet raspberry*

If I was looking for a boyfriend, I suppose I could give him a bit more time, but I’m just looking for a boytoy! I suppose I could get all stalker-like & stop by tomorrow after court & do the shtick I planned for today but it just seems like too much effort for a boy who can’t even text, “hi”.

Oh, bother.

Then again, the world IS ending Saturday…

sick as a dog, what’s your story?

Sick as a dog, what’s your story? (bonus points to anyone who knnows where that line comes from. hint: it’s a song)

Where did the phrase “sick as a dog” come from? Dogs don’t get any sicker than any other animal with the same illness… I’ve got a cold. It’s official. And this week is busybusybusy!

Monday I have a welfare fair hearing, I need to return some overdue library books, and I need to get blood test results from ShyBoys mum. (ShyBoy hasn’t called — perhaps i should’ve asked him if he would actually use the number instead of just asking if it’d be weird if I gave him my #. Of course it wouldn’t be weird if he wasn’t planning on using it lol)

Tuesday I have a dentist appointment, which should take up most of the day.

Wednesday I have parenting class, which I don’t really need, and which doesn’t apply to my situation (it’s for parents who have kids in the foster care system. Never has happened, never will.). But with Court on Thursday, which will probably be adjourned after we get assigned our (free) 18B lawyers, I figured having a certificate of completion of parenting classes would hold more weight than my son and me saying I’m the “best mom in the known universe”.

And next weekend my son is supposed to go with his dad, a.k.a., Bad Dad, a.k.a., BD. In an ideal situation, the court will restrict BD to supervised visitation. But since they’ve got so many cases, it probably won’t happen…

(quick cigarette break)

So I am kind of sort of attempting to quit smoking. My sons school has done the whole, “smoking is bad” thing so my son wants me to quit (when I told him to tell that to his dad he replied, quite seriously, “but I WANT my dad to die.” oh, and the cigarettes themselves cast A LOT. But with

 warm weather and allergies upon us, I figure now is the time. Sort of. Maybe.

My weekend consisted of a wonderful visit with my aunt & uncle from Pittsburgh (my fathers older brother)&my paternal grandmother a.k.a. my lifelong best friend.

Sunday — today — I was in bed with my cold and my imp-son was an absolute ANGEL. He put his dishes in the sink — and mine — and changed his guinea, sorry, Italian-American pig’s water without  having to be told. We had a bit of a Big Bang Theory marathon, catching up on the earlier part of this season, and now he is sleeping next to me, all clean from his shower, damp hair smelling faintly of wet puppy.

As for me, I’m just dripping. Well, my wet hair is, but since it’s supposed to rain all week I figured it’s better to go back to my nightly shower…

Hope y’all had a good weekend 🙂

ShyBoy, Part 1

I’ve had a bit of a crush on ShyBoy for a while. not an obsessive, i-must-see-him-or-i’ll-die crush, but a, oh-hey-ther-he-is-and-gosh-isn’t-he-cute?-way.

he works at my drs office — although i suppose i should say my drs’s offices. three offices, and about 4 drs. unfortunately (aside from him being only 20) his mom is my (gulp) primary care dr. (i found out this juicy piece of gossip from the chick who hands out fliers for the place. she suggested i “go for it”.)

after getting over the “i could be his mom” factor, i started trying to talk to him. not easy since i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. and, oh yeah, one of ShyBoys co-workers gave me his # last month&that could get a bit uncomfy… when i told flier girl about talking to ShyBoy, she literally gasped, “he talks to you? he doesn’t talk to anyone!” wa-hoo! score one for the puma! (Vivica A Fox said on TMZ that women 35-40 into younger men are Pumas; 40+ are cougers.)

this past wednesday my son dressed me in my tight black pants, had me put my hair in pig-tails, and actually carry a purse (!!!). oh, and wear boots with heels (as opposed to my usual sneakers). i was on. i flirted, i had fun, and before i left luck allowed for a moment when he had no co-workers nearby.

“ShyBoy, would it be weird if i gave you my number?” i had my name and number written on a folded piece of paper.

“no,” he said, smiling in his oh-so-cute-way. it was VERY hard not to just grab him, pull him into the stairway with me, and just kiss him, but i restrained myself — barely. i handed him the paper, he unfolded it, looked at it, and before i could see what he did with it, i turned and said goodbye…

and now its friday night. i think he works monday thru friday, but possibly saturday as well. and there is the three-day-rule. (wait is that for boys or girls?)

either way i have to see his mom on monday (his mom lol i’m going to be sick) for blood test results. my fashionista son has already picked out my outfit. ShyBoy is getting kissed!

what if, too

and what if i am

the true reincarnate

of napoleon,

won’t they all be surprised.

but i’ll bet the old hens

will cluck among themselves,

“i knew it all along,

the way she carried herself.”

yes,

and don’t they have

better things to do

than going to church

on sunday mornings

when they could sleep late

and fill in

the new york times crossword puzzle

in pen

if only the little old jewish men

hadn’t done it on saturday

(because every good jew

gets it delivered on saturday)

and what if i really am

the true reincarnate

of no-one special,

would they say

they knew it all along?