Last To Know

Sorry for the mega-downer post yesterday. I miss my sister, ya know? I spent a lot of time really pissed off at her and her final choices. I never actually mourned for her because I spent so much time being angry. It took a while for me to realize and accept sometimes people think there are no choices. What a desolate place that must be.

I got a couple of e-mails about the post and I want to thank you for reaching out. Depression is one of those things that can either take you, or you can fight it kicking and screaming. I'm here with my boxing gloves and my shit kickers on, and I got your back. Just call. My sister never called. I don't know why and I can't spend the rest of my life wondering about what ifs.

I removed the video and put the link to it there so the blog loads faster. I would like to have left it as it was but I know from other e-mails received that some of you were unable to access the blog at work because of the video. I absolutely love that song and of course the video touches close to home.

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Switching gears completely, I have stage fright issues. I know that's probably hard for any of you regular readers to understand or believe, but I'll explain. Since the in-laws arrival several weeks ago, my house has been filled with guests. Since the weather broke, there have been an absurd amount of neighbor kids over visiting during the same time.

I have a problem going potty with people in my house. I know, I know. I can hear the collective "awww" of sympathy from you already, or was that a groan of despair because I'm talking about my broken poop chute?

The reason why I am telling you this is because I was telling my mom about it over the phone and she said, "You're blogging about this right? Because you have no hesitations whatsoever about making a mockery out of us." So here I sit, broken hearted. Paid to shit, but only farted. Sorry, my dad always used to say that when he had issues. And let me tell you, I've got more issues than People Magazine.

At any rate, I've had... plumbing problems. Yeah, that's it, plumbing. And things in my tummy haven't been feeling so good. Yesterday my butt wasn't feeling so good. I tried to tell myself that the laundry detergent probably wasn't agreeing with all of my 2,000 parts but deep down, I knew my bum was on strike over all of the company we have been entertaining as of late.

Finally, the kids went to school, my old man went to work and in-laws have gone away. Time for me and my throne to spend some serious quality time together. This was supposed to be a good time had by all, however, my bum was still under protest and was now aching and kind of... itchy?

Houston... we have a problem! An asteroid is headed this way! I mean a hemorrhoid. They really should be called assteroids.

This was quite upsetting. I haven't had anything close to this type of anal discomfort since I gave birth. As I was about to fall to my knees and cry in my very best Nancy Kerrigan impersonation, the phone rang. It was Mr. Lane. We are very open about everything. So of course I began to whine to him.

"Honey, I have a hemorrhoid..."

Before I could complete my whining session, he said, "Yeah. I know. I was going to tell you about that the other night."

"Tell me? I thought I would... I should be the first to know that I had a siamese twin growing out of my bum. So you knew? For days? How did you... never mind. You are a nasty man."

"I didn't say anything because I thought you knew. I mean, how didn't you know that sucker is huge?!"

Do I need to tell you I hate that guy?

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Friday I'll get back to the party from back in the early days when me and the old man met. If I had known then, what I know now, especially following the assteriod event, things may have been different. Stay tuned. If you would like to catch up on the Story of Us, parts 1 - 6 the links are below.


Part One


Part Two


Part Three


Part Four


Part Five


Part Six