We’ll Be Right Back After These Messages

May 21st, 2008

I have at least 8 paid post assignments I have to get done before the weekend, so that’s what I’ll be doing the next couple of days.  I’m apologizing in advance. 

Mama needs the dough, you know?

I’m probably not going to be posting anything but that stuff, so just be patient.  I may try to slip the crockpot oatmeal recipe in there, but if not I’ll do it on the weekend (btw, I had a bowl of it this morning heated in the microwave?  To. Die. For).

The Internets, they can feel my apathy anyway.

Back soon with real posts!

What If? Wednesday: First Love Edition

May 21st, 2008

He was, up to that point, the most beautiful boy I had ever laid eyes on.  He was tall and lanky, with burnished dark blonde curly hair and big green eyes.  Think Tommy from Eight is Enough, only taller and sexier.

 

It was Halloween night, 1988 – the fall of my junior year.  My best friend and I were out running around and we stopped at the Hardees she worked at to get drinks.  He was a coworker of hers, a junior at another school in the same district.  I thought he was cute but WAY out of my league.

 

She told me a few weeks later that he bugged her about me incessantly whenever they worked together.  She finally relented and gave him my phone number, but he didn’t call for a while.

 

I went in to her restaurant one day in late May, after school was out.  She took her break to eat with me.  He came over on his break after she went back to work.  I told him I knew he had my phone number.  He said he wanted to call but he had a girlfriend, and he wanted to end that first.  He said they’d been broken up for a couple of weeks, and he’d lost my number by that time.

 

He asked me out, and we went out.  It was a whirlwind, my first real boyfriend.  He deflowered me in the back woods of a friend’s house on the 4th of July.  We talked about being together forever.

 

He had major parental issues, and he moved out of his parents house and in with a roommate shortly before senior year.  He transferred to my school, and we were blissfully, ridiculously in love.  Locker-sharing, PDA, “what does he see in her anyway?” love.

 

In November 1989, after he turned 18, he dropped out of school altogether.

 

We still dated, though my parents hated that we spent so much time together.  They hated that their college bound straight A student was dating a drop out, and talking about marrying him.  In the spring of 1990 he gave me a gold wedding band – no money for diamonds on a Taco Bell employee wage.

 

My parents were putting more and more pressure on me to break up with my “fiancé”.  I skipped school one day to spend his day off with him, making love and eating junk food and watching bad daytime TV.  I got caught.  I got grounded.  I was told I could never EVER see him again.  I was told when I was 18, I could make such decisions, but while I was a minor under their roof, their rules.

 

I was friends with a guy who had moved from Oklahoma to Colorado and was already married.  We talked of going to Colorado and moving in with them after we got married.  I’m not sure how we would have made it there.  My Rabbit would be confiscated, and he drove an old broken down pickup that wouldn’t have made it to the next town, let alone Colorado Springs.

It was us against the world, but quickly became us against each other.  We fought constantly, and I had issues with my family and my friends because of him.  By graduation I was no longer speaking to any of my group of school chums – in our class picture my friends sit in one group together and I am far away.

 

Graduation day he didn’t come to my graduation because my father would be there.  My family showed but disappeared after the ceremony so they wouldn’t run into him.

 

After the ceremony I drove over to his apartment, still in cap and gown, honor society ropes around my shoulders, diploma cover in hand.  I let myself in with my key, and found him in bed with the junior cheerleader slut who had been making eyes at him all year.

 

My parents heralded the end of my relationship by railroading me into summer session of community college.  I saw him only once in passing after that day.

 

I was trying to figure out this morning if I ever really knew him.  What did he want to be when he grew up?  How did he plan to do that without having a high school diploma?  I have no idea.

 

I Googled him recently and found out he’s married, with child(ren).  He graduated a few years ago from a community college auto repair program.  He works for a major dealership now.  He filed for divorce from his wife back in ’05, but then withdrew it.

 

So what if?  What if we’d gotten married?

 

We’d never have made it to Colorado, that’s for sure.  I doubt we’d even be married anymore.  We’d probably have children, and I’d be working a couple of dead end jobs to make ends meet.  I’d be living in a trailer park with at least one kid in high school.  Life would be very different, and probably not in a good way.

StumbleUpon Tuesday - 5/20/08

May 20th, 2008

I am a time travel fanatic. Check out this paradox.

And if you are a victim of suburban adultery, there are always reasons why it’s good to be single.

Some really cool curiosities. I particularly like the “Delete” eraser.

An interesting idea. I wonder if it will catch on?

Ever had a case where the definition of a word made almost as little sense as the original word? Perhaps a visual dictionary can help.

Weekend Update

May 18th, 2008

Nothing too terribly exciting happened around Chez Russian this weekend.

Saturday I got up and hit a couple of garage sales in the neighborhood, scoring an end table with magazine rack, two plant stands, a timer shaped like a teakettle and a piece of Mexican pottery.  Then I went in town to use the car wash gift certificate I got in the charity auction, then stopped by Bed Bath & Beyond to use up a couple of coupons.

As I was leaving the store I was thinking about lunch when the phone rang.  It was a mystery shopper service I work for asking me if I would mind doing a lunch shop at one of my favorite restaurants sometime before next Tuesday.  I went straight over to the restaurant for my free lunch - score!

I got home just in time to find that my Knot Heads had arrived, but there was no time to play with them as I had to shower and get dressed so that Irish and I could meet my company at the bowling alley for our family night outing.

I’m not going to lie, I’m a sucky bowler.  The light balls are almost too small for my fingers, and the ones with bigger finger holes are too heavy.  Plus I’m more interested in socializing than in any sort of accuracy.  I did get two strikes in two games, though I think they were pretty much an accident.

I woke up at 4 a.m. with my shoulder killing me, so I took some pain reliever, went back to sleep and woke up at 9:30.  I decided to take a quick run up to the store to see if I could locate these Terro ant baits I’d been hearing so much about.

We have major ant issues out here, and I brought the liquid baits home and the ants have been swarming there ever since.  It’s insane - it’s like something in the liquid makes the ants think there is a party going on or something.  I’ve read on other blogs that these are super effective, so I’ll update in a few days to let you know how it goes.

Clear Skin

May 18th, 2008

I think the minute I turned 13 my face broke out. My mom was one of those women who could count the number of zits she’s had in her lifetime on one hand. My dad was not so lucky. Guess who I inherited my skin from?

Things got really bad in my late teens, so my mom started taking me to the dermatologist, who put me on a regimen, but essentially told us I would grow out of it. Twenty years later I’m still waiting to grow out of it.

I’ve tried a lot of things: over the counter meds, prescription treatments, and natural acne treatments with varying degrees of success. Sometimes a combination therapy is what you need and sometimes the right treatment is just a click away.

Paintball!

May 18th, 2008

You know something I’ve never done? I’ve never played paintball.  Never!

Funny how I’ve never done it, because I think I’d be really good at it. I’m ultra-competitive and I love shooting things to show off my marksmanship skills. It’s even more fun when you can make a mess doing it (especially one that doesn’t involve blood).

I was checking out paintball equipment sites and ran across this one that features the Tippmann 98 Custom - a sniper set! It includes all of the equipment you will need including a Spyder tank, helmet with visor, harness, gun case and more. Everything you will need to get started on your paintball adventure.

Tippmann is the premier name in paintball equipment. Just looking at this site, I can hear the paintball as it thunks out of the barrel and smashes into my opponent. I wonder if there are any places around here to play?

Drunk Bowling

May 18th, 2008

We insurance people work in a fast paced and stressful world, so is it any wonder that when we play, we play hard? Saturday night our office went bowling and the company paid for drink tickets. One ticket was good for a beer or a wine serving. Those didn’t go too fast, and by the end of the night they were accepting two tickets per mixed drink, and suddenly all those tickets were gone in a flash.

Is it any wonder so many professionals end up in alcohol rehab? Better than the looney bin, I guess.

Take a Hike

May 18th, 2008

Workshop Porkchop wants to know:

“How does walking–or gardening, ballroom dancing, yoga, tai chi–inspire your creative life?”

I used to walk a lot when I was younger, but now I find it boring.  Then I just didn’t exercise at all for a long time, and when I think back on it now, I see how my characters tend to get trapped in their circumstances.

The “trapped” part is working well for my heroine, to an extent.  I know her exit strategy (and she’ll learn soon enough) but I wondered what life would be like for her beyond the prison she made for herself.

Regular readers know my husband bought me a bicycle for my birthday, which I’ve been riding on those nights when I get home before the sun goes down.  I’m enjoying it every much, because of the sense of freedon, almost like flying.

Now that I’ve released myself from the prison of being a couch potato, I have a better sense of how she’s going to feel and where she’s going to go.  I didn’t realize until this question that I already had the answer.

The nearly daily jaunts through the neighborhood inspire me in other ways:

  • I can think of a million different 20 page sunset descriptions.
  • I want to incorporate the dog down the street into one of my stories.
  • I watch interactions between neighbors.
  • I see houses that look empty and suddenly have cars out front and I wonder about those occupants or visitors.

The creative juices (and the endorphins) are flowing, and it feels good.

Creepy

May 17th, 2008

I admit that my husband and I are avid watchers of the show “To Catch A Predator”.  It’s interesting to see what kinds of men are performing these unconscionable acts, and how they present themselves prior (ie, the “25 year old” who is actually 52).

After a Hollywood, FL man was found not guilty of charges brought against him by the NBC sting, a local radio station decided to do a social experiment.  They created a fake MySpace page for a 14 year old girl who is a latchkey kid and often home alone.  The results have been creepy, yet intriguing.

The vast majority of respondents have been men over the age of consent, usually in their 30s and 40s.  One man has been particularly aggressive, becoming sexual in chat and in e-mail, all the while reminding her that he is old enough to be her father.  When they peruse the man’s MySpace, his friends are primarily girls under the age of 17.  (Names have not been released.)

The other day they were reading an exchange between him and the 14 year old (the female dj did the typing) about her wanting the top spot on his friends list.  He told her she would have to do something really special to get it, then began to describe what.  They didn’t get graphic on the air, but what they did say was enough to make me switch to another station.

Hootie & The Blowfish can’t quite eradicate some mental pictures.

When I was 14 (more than 20 years ago), the internet was just BBS.  I used to go online and chat for hours, much to the consternation of my dad, who paid the bills.  Internet was not cheap back then.  The more you used it, the more you paid.

I made some good friends that way.  In fact, I was a bridesmaid in the wedding of a chat mate I met when I was 14.  I also had an experience with online predators.

One night I was online and got a private message from a man.  I was 14, and I think he told me he was probably 28 or so.  We began chatting, and we talked about books and sports and the world in general.  He told me he was married, and that his wife was away and he was bored.

I thought nothing of it.  The chat didn’t become sexual, or even inappropriate, that I remember.  I have always been precocious, and he made me feel very sophisticated and smart.

The next day I came home from school and my mother was waiting for me and very angry.  She’d gone online earlier in the day and checked the e-mail (back then having your own private e-mail was a luxury no one could even fathom) and found an e-mail from my chat buddy from the night before.

He started the e-mail with how nice it was to talk to someone so smart and funny.  He liked my sense of humor and my easygoing manner.  Talking to me made him less bored, less unhappy and less lonely.  In fact, he had been thinking about me all night.  He had gone to bed imagining  what it would be like for me to be there with him.

And then he proceeded to describe in graphic detail what he had imagined us doing.

I was horrified, because I had no prior inkling of this from our previous conversation.  My mother was convinced I had been having such a conversation online, and she was horrified because (a) I was 14 and (2) this was a married man and what did I think I was doing?

I think I might still be grounded, actually.

So this whole online predator thing is not new, just more illuminated.  The question is, WHY is it so prevalent?  If we extrapolate the numbers out, just what percentage of the adult male population has fantasized about, or attempted to act on, or God forbid acted on the urge to have sexual relations with a minor?  It seems like it must be quite high.

When I was in my early 20s I met a man online who was a few years older.   He lived in PA, and I was in OK.  We were in an AOL chat room, and by the end of the night he had my phone number and called me.  We talked for about 15 minutes, and I found him boring.

A few weeks later he called me again out of the blue and made a much better impression.  In fact, we traveled to see each other several times, got involved, and were off-and-on (for various reasons) for a couple of years, all long distance.

One week I was on a business trip out West, and he didn’t call me the whole time I was gone, which was unusual, since we talked several times a day and had actually gotten engaged just a month prior.  When I got home there were just two messages from him.  One said that he needed to talk, and the other said we REALLY needed to talk.

When I called he told me that he’d been arrested the day after I left town and had only just been released the day I got back.  The reason?  He’d been caught having sex in the back seat of his car with a 15 year old girl.  He was (if I remember correctly) 28 at the time.

He had been bored and lonely and went into an AOL chat room.  They chatted, then talked on the phone, then decided to meet up for sex.  As the story progressed, she got younger and younger until he finally admitted she was 13.  I would imagine she was probably 12, but I’ll never know for sure.

Suddenly I just knew without question it wasn’t his first time doing this.  His sexual proclivities, those fantasies I had participated in at his whispered urgings, the school girl outfit, had all seemed so racy at the time.  Now I know he was just trying to transplant his misguided urges on someone he thought was more age appropriate.

He was convicted and is now a registered sex offender.  I broke up with him during that phone call.  This was many years ago (at least 10) and we have kept in touch sporadically over the years.  He’s been married twice since then, both times to younger women (of legal consent age) from South America.

The thought of what he did, and what other men are out there doing, it sickens me.  I just wonder why this is so prevalent, not for the blame factor, but to figure out how to stop it.  How do we protect our children?  How do we retrieve those lost men, the ones who should be good husbands and fathers, not trolling the internet looking to live out some sick fantasy with a child who doesn’t even realize he or she is being taken advantage of?

Baggage

May 16th, 2008

Whenever I go out of town, I like to stand by the baggage carousel at the airport, watching the bags go round and round. Some poor soul will eventually ask me what’s wrong and I’ll say that I haven’t seen my bag come around. When he asks what it looks like I say “black.”

I gotta get new luggage. Maybe something nice and colorful. A bright red or blue Rimowa, perhaps?