Catch-up

Here's what you've missed... (and by that, I mean what I haven't told you because I suck at blogging.)


Birthday fun.
Dave organized a big birthday bash for me, filled with great friends, wine, Italian food, Sambuca and a creepy Santa. A group of 15 of us ate and drank a LOT, and even convinced a bartender to play one of my playlists at the bar. Then, the whole bar sang "Happy Birthday" to me sometime after midnight. Pretty sure I was lifted in the air at some point.

Sambuca

Treatment for sis.
My sister entered a facility for about a week to go through some intensive therapy with other addicts. She got out right before Christmas and is now doing intensive outpatient treatment for a bit. She's also attending NA meetings again, getting her resume together (with my help) and getting her shit together. Again. Fingers crossed.

Home for the holidays.
Two families means two Christmases. First stop was Cleveland where we met my SIL's adorable, SUPER sweet new pup, bonded with the niece and nephew, and found ourselves smack dab in the middle of some good ol' fashioned family drama. Next up, Memphis -- land of pit bull cuddles, deep-fried turkey, too much drinking and family time.

MINK.
My Drunk Grandma has a fur coat that makes her look like a rapper from the '90s and she wears it in public every chance she gets. Going to the theater? Mink. Movies? Mink. Grocery store? Mink. It's wide and gaudy; completely ridiculous. I call it a mink coat, but I've been corrected that it's actually fox fur. (Her mink is full-length; the one she wore during Christmas was shorter and that one's the fox.) Oh yeah. There are two.

20sb nominee.
Dave got nominated for best tumblog! A few of us definitely threw his name in the ring without him knowing, so I think it was a pleasant surprise. Anyway, if you like his shit, you can vote for him here (along with your other favorite kiddos, of course).

Fantasy football domination.
I'm currently in the playoffs, leading my whole league in pure awesomeness. I might even win this whole thing. Whodathunkit?

NYE plans.
This year, we're not going out, getting dolled up or spending too much money. We've done all that before and while it can be fun, it can also be a pain in the ass. So we're going much more low-key to ring in 2010. We're having some fabulous people over, we'll have some delicious appetizers and we'll drink ourselves silly right here in my apartment.

The new baby!
And here's the big announcement I've been dying to reveal: Dave and I adopted a pup on Monday!! We're now the proud parents of a 10-month old pit that we named Rocco.


He's amazing. He's already housebroken and crate-trained, so the only thing I really have to work on with him is "drop it." At his foster mom's, he slept in her bed, but we put him in his crate last night and didn't hear a peep. He cuddles like CRAZY, entertains himself with toys and doesn't bark. He absolutely adores people and he seems to like other dogs too, which is good because there will be both at the NYE party. I'll say it: I am in love.

Square One

[photo: jens.lilienthal]

This post technically belongs on the other blog that I have abandoned, but since it's pretty vacant over there (and since it's, unfortunately, impossible to separate this aspect of my family from the rest of my life), I figure I'll write it here.

My sister, the addict, had a relapse not too long ago.

Her one-year was supposed to be October 15, but (apparently) she didn't even make it.

I don't feel like going into details, but the short story is that all of this was sparked by the fact that my sister was starting to steal money again. Which is infuriating.

"She's going to go after your pills next," I warned my mom. "Stealing is stealing, and if she'll take money, she'll take meds."

And what do I wake up to this morning?

A phone call from Dave letting me know that it happened. My shithead addict sister stole pills from my sick mother.

She took 60 Ativan, like that would go unnoticed. My mom called her, furious, and unleashed a tirade unlike any other. She's a very laid-back person, but this kind of despicable behavior really fuels the fury.

Sister then told my mom that she took the pills to try to kill herself.

Happy holidays, ya'll. My sister is suicidal.

While I do believe that my sister is self-medicating, I'm not sure if she wants to die. Actually, I think she'd rather make money. I don't know the street value for Ativan, but I can tell you from experience that it is some powerful shit. Since my sister was fired from her job around Thanksgiving, she needs another income. If I had to guess, I'd say she's taking an Ativan or two each day and selling some of the others. (If she was just taking them for herself, she could have stolen one at a time and my mom would never know.)

Sister then declared that she wanted to be checked into a facility. Does she want help or is she trying to escape responsibility? Is she trying to avoid dealing with my family? Is she actually suicidal?

These are things you never know with an addict. You can't trust them. And you do feel guilty for that, but it's the reality.

Part of me feels like I should be keeping this entirely private, but I look at this blog as something for me to look back on later and reflect on these parts of my life. Addiction is a part of that, and as much as I'd like to brush it under the rug and pretend it's not there, it is.

Now, I know the holidays are the toughest times for an addict. The chaos, the family time, the expectations -- it's overwhelming for them and it brings back the urge to use. I hate that. I hate that just being around us is enough to send her back into the throes of addiction. But what I really hate is the fact that she is SO selfish, SO sick, SO pained that she has no problem stealing my mom's pills. How do we fix that? How does she?

Sigh.

Maybe Santa will bring us some peace in 2010.

Weekend with Baby Lu

Hiya kids.

So, when I last left off, I had Baby Lu with me for a few days. It was quite interesting.

Mommy Ang jokes that Lu is "the prettiest, not the smartest," but we know that she IS quite smart. And stubborn. This is what I imagine goes through her brain: PLAYTIME, must piss on Aunt Lisa's floor, I'm hungry, time to piss on Lisa's floor again, hey now I'll shit on the floor, PLAY WITH ME, PLAY WITH ME, PLAY WITH ME, I'm sleepy, just kidding - I have to pee on your floor again, nap time, PLAY WITH ME, watch me piss on your floor.

In case you're wondering, the princess turned my apartment into her own personal toilet, starting with my down comforter on Night One. Even though I took her outside a bunch, she just didn't seem to care for 40-degree weather, strange noises and the sweater I made her wear to help combat the cold. After a battle of wills, I gave up and just let her go in the apartment. You win, Lu!

During the day, I used whatever I could find to block Lu off in the living room, where I work. Since my apartment is a long, open space, this was a creative challenge. I ended up going with a patio table, a trash can, a recycling can and a little suitcase. NOW I WIN, LULU.


Yeah, she hated that.

Anyway, Lu and I were alone together most of the time, but when Uncle Dave came home, good god, was she excited. She would sprint up and down the entire apartment bringing him toys, she'd stay with him in the kitchen while he cooked, she'd hump his arm whenever possible, etc. Basically, they bonded.


For all of the trouble Lu and I had together, we also cuddled like crazy. During her daytime naps, she was always by my side; during bedtime, she crawled under the covers in between my legs; during her evening naps, she was curled up in my arms. It was pretty damn cute.


All in all, though, she was a lot of work, but she was also cute and hilarious. And a humper.

EDIT: I originally posted the wrong video up there because that's just how careful I am with this blog. Here's the humping in all its frantic glory.



Oh, Lu. Anyway, all of this, my friends, means that we're one step closer to getting a pup of our own. Baby steps, that's how I roll.

Let's all shit on AT&T

Believe it or not, I have several things I'd like to post about right now. There's the Lulu experience, a video from Drunk Grandma, my new bond with my mom's stupid dog... yeah, all real gems.

But my whore Internet has an upload speed of SO-FREAKING-SLOW-IT'S-LIKE-DIAL-UP, so none of my photos that go with those posts have been taken off Dave's camera yet.

Once again, we can all thank AT&T for being an asshole.

Stay tuned.

College football = no thanks

Photo: SD Dirk

I really hate college football.

We didn't have football at my school (we were too busy ignoring the basketball and soccer teams), so I admit that I've never been caught up in the whole OMG IT'S GAME DAY SO IT'S TIME FOR KEGS AND EGGS AND PUT ON YOUR JERSEY BECAUSE WE'RE ALL SO FUCKING EXCITED ABOUT SPORTS AND ISN'T OUR SCHOOL JUST THE BEST!!?!

My problem with college football isn't that these schools funnel money into sports over academics or that it allows 18-year-old children to get puffed-up egos. My real problem is that these players suck.

Fumbling the ball, missing easy field goals, falling over their own two feet -- it's a painful amateur hour. Look, if you're not gonna be allowed to stay in college because of good grades, you damn well better be able to catch a ball.

This is why I prefer professional football. They don't make those kinds of mistakes and they have god-like abilities that mere mortals don't have. THAT is worth watching. If I wanted to watch a bunch of idiots run around and drop things, I'd have a kid, put him in a pee-wee league and actually go to the games.

So in my house, we do not watch football on Saturdays. We don't even acknowledge it. In fact, the only reason that I even remember that football happens on Saturdays is because I see Facebook status updates lamenting how so-and-so threw another interception. And that's fine with me. I don't think I'm missing much.

Instead, we're glued to the TV on Sundays, watching the Browns lose, the Colts win, Adrian Peterson score and Bill Bellichick wear those three-quarter length sweatshirts for no discernible reason. Good plays, good games, real talent. Toss a few beers and some good friends into the mix, and it's a recipe for an enjoyable Sunday.

Baby Lu will make me more responsible

Little Lu is coming over tonight -- from now through Sunday, I'll be taking care of her while Mommy Ang has a blast in Vegas.

How's it gonna go? Lu and I are totally in love, but I've never been responsible for taking her outside, cleaning up her shit, keeping her entertained and keeping her safe. The horror of it all is that she's not a sleeper like I am. Ang says Lu sleeps better when she's in the bed rather than her crate, so I say, come on in, little one! Whatever will give me another hour of drowsy bliss.

So, we'll see how this turns out. All I know is if I can't handle Baby Lu for four days, I can't handle my own dog, period. It will be an eye-opening experience either way. Stay tuned...

Christmas cheer

Photo: ianqui

Holiday commercials have been playing -- albeit sporadically -- for the last week or two, beginning at the end of October. I know a lot of people are completely put off by how early the Christmas cheer kicks in, but I'm just gonna say it.

I like it.

Yeah, it's early, but I don't care! I like getting wrapped up in the holiday spirit, the sparkling decorations, the snowy scenes in commercials, the coziness of the season, the special holiday drinks, the gift-giving, the familiar Christmas songs, the anticipation of fun family time...

It warms my cold, black heart.

So, fine, it started in October. Let's face it, these weeks always end up flying by anyway, so the fact that the holidays are being shoved down our throats so soon isn't really that much of a crime. At least, not in my book. And I'm a pretty cranky person, so if I can embrace it, you can too. Right?