Mike is awesome!

Mike wanted me to blog about how awesome he is since I have no other blog fodder.

Well, rest assured, Mike is awesome. He's making a skillion little clay magnets for our wedding favors while I sit and watch Law & Order: SVU and wish I had things to blog about. And he has his shirt off. It's utopia!

So yes. Mike is awesome.

SUV

Lately there's been a lot of construction along I-94, so I've been taking a different way home. I pass a porn store, and every day I laugh because there's a big fancy car, a stretch SUV, parked in the lot. Written on the windows is, "FOR RENT" along with a phone number.

I kind of wonder what kind of person would say, "Oh yeah, this is gonna be a classy date. I'm gonna rent that Escalade in front of the porn shop."

Today I laughed again because I saw it was gone. It had been rented out.

Well, someone thought it was classy, anyway.

Bitch

Just the other day I was thinking that the word "bitch" had lost its sting. You see it printed on shirts in glittery pink letters, engraved into necklaces and belt buckles, splashed across the covers of womens' magazines, and tossed around not as an insult, but as casual slang for a woman who takes what she wants without taking shit from anybody. It's what my friends and I urge each other to be when it's time to be assertive, and what we laugh about being when we raise our voices or get tough. It's so much a part of the vernacular that I can get bitched out by the principal, bitch at Mike when I get home, and then apologize later for being so bitchy, all in a single day*.

In fact, working in special ed, I'm fairly used to hearing all manner of profanity. When I hear the kids call another teacher a bitch I give them the Watch-Your-Mouth look, but laugh with the teacher later. The only language that really sets my teeth on edge is racial slurs. So I never thought I'd be hurt by profanity, especially harmless little overused "bitch."

Guess I was wrong.

Dad has fatal cancer you pompous arrogant bitch, i knew this would happen, you proved untrustworthy.

Thank you, Liz. I got it first thing this morning, and something about it made me quiver a little. I think that this is the first time in my life that I've ever sincerely been called a bitch. It hurts more than I thought it would.

Everyone's theory with Liz is that she'll eventually get tired of bothering me. I doubt it. I think that at this point I'm Liz's emotional punching bag...whenever she wants to let of a little steam, she turns to me. The rest of the time, she ignores me. It used to be the opposite - she'd turn to me whenever she needed a sympathetic ear, and then ignore me. Why would you get sick of someone you can kick around whenever you feel lousy without any fear of retaliation?

Mike and my dad have both pointed out that once I get married and change my name and my email she won't be able to contact me anymore. All I would have to do is change my phone number as well, and the transformation would be complete.

But I don't want to change my phone number. I've had it for years. Everything is connected to that number. And besides, I'm sick of just taking it. I want to react. I want to push back.

I'm not her punching bag. And I'm not a bitch either. I just need to decide what I should do.





* You can tell that this is a fictional account because, in reality, my principal has no idea who I am or what I do in the school.

Dreamer Remains

Mike and I are still in possession of Dreamer.



It's incredibly hard to give away a cat. Most people don't need one, or if they do, they don't really spend a lot of time shopping around. Cats are everywhere. Just stroll on down to the humane society and you can become a cat owner the very next day.

I think that a big impediment to finding a home for Dreamer is the fact that our friends don't really think that it's necessary for us to get rid of her immediately. It's not like we took her in and risk having our landlord bust us for keeping an animal against our lease. Their attitude is, You already have four cats, what's another? We have been firmly labeled as the Crazy Cat People.

Man.

So, if you or someone you know wants a cat, you can have ours. I'm willing to drive her to your house. I'm willing to put her on a plane if I can't drive there. I'm willing to buy you Claritin if you're allergic.

Five cats is too many. She really needs to go.