Tag Archives: Family

Sometimes everything just goes wrong

You know how things can be sometimes. No matter how hard you pray for something good to happen or no matter how hard you will things to be different, they are just plain crappy. It doesn’t matter how much time and effort you put into planning something, either: sometimes everything just goes wrong.

So this weekend, my boyfriend and I were supposed to go on a fishing trip with my mom and stepdad. We left after work on Friday and drove the 4 hours to the east coast of Florida, pulling in late and exhausted just around midnight. Fishing in the Gulf of Mexico is great, and it’s awesome how close we live to the water, but we wanted a change of scenery, and the chance to catch some different species of fish, so we planned an overnight trip to West Palm Beach for some dolphin fishing (the fish, not flipper, calm down). Getting up at 5:45 a.m. is only possible when you have the adrenaline and excitement of a big day ahead of you, so dragging our butts out of bed yesterday was no big deal. Driving the 20 minutes to the dock and dropping the boat in was also no big deal; we’ve done this before, right? Right. Bill had checked and double-checked the marine forecast the whole week, making sure our day wasn’t going to be too rough (and also making sure it was worth the 4-hour drive). The Sea People claimed it was going to be 10-15 knots, with 2-3 foot seas. Shouldn’t be a bad day, right? Wrong.

Those Sea People are down-right lying assholes. Once we got out past the inlet (which had about 12 foot seas from where I was standing), we thought things would calm down. Probably, y’know, because the marine forecast only called for 2-3 foot seas. Well those bastards were wrong. It did not calm down. It made being on the boat uncomfortable, and it made even the attempt at casting, let alone reeling anything in, basically impossible. I don’t think any of us wanted to give up (after all, we made that long drive and planned this whole trip and all), but it was clear it just wasn’t going to happen. So we turned around and headed back for the dock. But not, of course, before I puked all over the side of the boat into the angry sea.

Everyone knows I get car sick or motion sickness if there’s too much going on (like say, going on any type of spinning amusement park ride or being on a boat that’s being tossed around like a cork in a wave pool). So it’s not really surprising that my stomach felt like it was upside-down inside of me the whole ride out and back. But usually when I get like that, I can control it and at least keep my breakfast down. Not this time. When it’s going to come up, it’s going to come up whether you like it or not. Thankfully I was able to spew it all over the side of the boat into the water and not fall over board in the process (my mom was not happy with this; she was afraid I’d fall in and wanted me to puke in a bucket, but who wants to puke in a bucket for everyone to see and smell when you can just let it go into the deep blue sea? sorry mom). Although I’m not thrilled I puked (especially since that means I’m now on the scoreboard with Kevin for who’s puked since we’ve been dating- but it’s 3:1 and I’m still ahead so it’s fine), I did feel a little better after the fact. So it’s probably for the best. And we all made it safely back to shore (where we checked the marine forecast again and those bastards were STILL CALLING FOR 2-3 FOOT SEAS THE JERKS). Being alive and back on land was really the end goal, so all in all, it was okay. We didn’t get to fish, and I barfed, but we got in safe, so none of us were mad (just disappointed and bitter towards those lying Sea People).

We loaded up the car and decided just to hit the road and come back home to salvage the weekend (because at this point, it was only like, 8:30 a.m., and we really had no reason to hang out in West Palm). We got about 20-30 minutes in to our 4-hour drive home when the engine started smoking and we had to pull off the road. At first we thought we were just out of coolant, and that’s why the engine had overheated. So we used all the water we had, got back on the highway until we found a gas station and bought some. Problem solved, right? Clearly you should know where this is going by now.

Turns out the radiator was leaking and we needed a new one. We drove to the local Chevy dealership but they told us they wouldn’t be able to even look at the car until Monday. MONDAY. Yeah, because we can just sit around in some random Florida town for two days waiting for the car to be fixed. No thank you.

We had passed a sign on our way to the dealer that said “radiator repair” so we drove back that way to inquire, where we encountered yet another asshole to add to our shit list. While he rambled on about god knows what, we got in touch with NAPA, who told us they had a radiator for us. Finally, someone competent who could actually help us. We bought the part and struggled to find a body shop that was either a) open past noon or b) open at all. Apparently no one in the town we were stranded in liked to work on Saturdays. Assholes. Just when it looked like Bill was going to have to change it himself (and probably die of heat exhaustion in the process), we FINALLY found a shop that was open that would do it for us. They got it done in under two hours and we were (finally, actually) on our way back home. After all that, I am grateful it wasn’t any worse, but I’m still bitter towards the Sea People for steering us in the wrong direction in the first place. You know who you are, Sea People, and don’t think you are getting off so easy.

My friend Nicole sent me a book for my birthday called “Dear Asshole.” It’s filled with tear-out letters to send to all the assholes in your life, yet there isn’t one for Sea People. So I’d like to add my own (and hopefully the publishers will revise the book and release a second addition with my personal letter included, although probably not because they don’t even know who I am). Anyway, here it is:

Dear Asshole Marine Forecast Sea People,

You are liars. You continuously broadcast incorrect marine forecasts to innocent boaters and drive them (literally) into danger. We could have been killed out there (highly unlikely, but still possible). It’s your fault we were even in that situation in the first place, because if you had done your jobs correctly and told us what the seas would ACTUALLY be like that day, we never would have risked it. It’s your fault we drove all the way out there and didn’t get to fish and it’s your fault I barfed everywhere. It’s probably not your fault our radiator crapped out, but I’m going to blame you anyway because you’re an easy target and I hate you. Please stop being terrible at your jobs so people like me and my family can actually know what we’re driving our boat into.

Sincerely,

The girl who barfed

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Felix the cat: probably the most disgusting living creature ever

I don’t understand how one cat can be so disgusting. I swear, you’d think I was the crazy cat lady who had 12 cats the way my apartment cruds up with cat grossness.

I’ll go into the bathroom, where her litter box is, and you’d think she shit all over everything just from the smell alone. She is probably the dumbest cat I’ve ever encountered; despite how clean I keep her litter box, she used to always insist on pooping over the side onto the floor. I have since reduced the likeliness of that action by finally putting a lid on the box, but she’ll still stick her butt out of the opening every once in awhile (usually after I’ve JUST CLEANED IT, so it’s litter-ally {get it? haha, litter} fresh and clean with no poop or anything in it) and poop onto the floor. And even when she does use the box like a normal cat and shits inside, she doesn’t cover it up. You know, how cats are supposed to push litter over top of everything to cover it and make it smell less and generally make it less gross? Yeah, she doesn’t do that. Instead, she’ll get out of the box and push around the puppy pad that’s on the floor (for catching those stray turds), mushing it into a big ball as if that’s accomplishing anything. Maybe she’s wiping her paws, but she needs to figure this out, because I’m tired of coming home and getting hit with a wall of poop stink, and then having to go into the bathroom and push the litter over her poop myself. Not my job, Felix. Figure it out.

I also don’t get how she can shed nearly as much as she actually does. Even in winter. Like, hello, you need that fur, don’t you? She hates being brushed but I do it as often as she’ll allow it, not that it’s really accomplishing anything, though, because she still sheds like it’s 1,000 degrees and it’s her job. I am constantly sweeping and cleaning to remove the tufts of white fur from absolutely everything in my apartment: couches, towels, all my clothes and shoes, curtains, stove tops (how does it even get up there?!), you name it, there’s probably cat hair on it at some point or another. I just don’t understand it. You would think for a cat who’s constantly licking her butt and cleaning herself she wouldn’t be anywhere close to as disgusting as she actually is.

I don’t ever want her to die but man, when that day comes, I will have so much more time for literally anything else because I won’t be constantly cleaning up after her. And my life will no longer be covered in cat hair. Until then, I guess I will continue to deal with her filth because, goddamnit, I love that cat.

She likes to sleep in the basket where I keep my sneakers. Since I've banned her from my room when I'm not home (after she threw up in my shoes), she has to find other ways to leave her grossness all over my belongings.

She likes to sleep in the basket where I keep my sneakers. Since I’ve banned her from my room when I’m not home (after she threw up in my shoes), she has to find other ways to leave her grossness all over my belongings.

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Ideas for Halloween you probably already had (but should repeat again anyway)

With just a week left until Halloween (cue my approaching sob fest), there are still so many ways left to celebrate this most beloved (albeit scary) time of year. I’m sure no one is as much of a horror/Halloween enthusiast as me (read: crazy person), but that doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the same means of haunted celebration as I do. For those of you last-minute tricksters, here are a few fun holiday ideas you can still squeeze into this last week of the best month of the year (best for me, anyway…).

Jack the Pumpkin King and Zero. BFFs.

Jack the Pumpkin King and Zero. BFFs.

Carve pumpkins. I mean, duh, c’mon. It’s sort of a no-brainer when it comes to this Halloween tradition. The last week of October is actually the perfect time to do it, so that you can have a chance to enjoy your carvings but so that they don’t rot before the trick-or-treaters arrive, like some people’s pumpkins will who tried to be all overachievers about it and carved them weeks ago. Just saying. My twist this year, though, is to make it something worth a little more to you than the standard toothy-grinned pumpkins of Halloweens past. Surprisingly, I have never carved a Nightmare Before Christmas pumpkin (shocking, I know, but that’s mainly because I can’t draw for crap and no one has ever offered to stencil something for me until now), so it seemed only fitting that my boyfriend and I carve our first pumpkins together using his skills as a graphic designer/artist and my skills as an obsessed NBC fan. Errr, yeah. But they came out awesome, so whatever.

Indulge in cinematic horror (but not actual horror). Ever the scary movie fanatic, I highly encourage you to indulge in at least one or two horror movies before the month is up. I have so many favorites, the list could go on forever, but if you’re looking for a good variety, check out my posts from years past here, here and here.  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. And if you are, I’ll just come for you in the night while you sleep.

Terrified. And the Three Little Pigs.

Terrified. And the Three Little Pigs.

Attend all the scary things. What would Halloween be without haunted houses and other scary attractions of the like? I took a break this year from the overly-commercialized Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios, mainly because of how long the drive is, how expensive tickets are and how much of your night is spent standing in line (because the quality of scare is 10 out of 10, but the other factors make it drop pretty low on my favorites list). Instead, I sought out some local haunts I’d never been to before, dragged all my friends to them, and I have to say I was incredibly satisfied with both the level of scare and the price of admission (definitely adding The Haunted Angelus Scream Park and The Radley Haunted House to my list of annual Halloween events in the Tampa Bay area).

If anyone has anything to add to my (rather dull) list, let me know. I’m trying to hold on to Halloween as tightly as I can in hopes that this year, maybe, just maybe, it will last a little longer than its usual 31 days…

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The way black is black and blue is just blue

Over the weekend, I got to meet (and hang out for two days with) my boyfriend’s parents. For me, meeting a significant others’ parents was always kind of a big deal, especially because 1. I have had so few serious relationships, and (save for the boyfriends I had in my younger years, which don’t count, because they were still living at home and their parents were around all the time), I only really wanted to meet the parents if I felt the relationship was going somewhere long-term (which, luckily for me, they haven’t until now- hopefully; of course, now that I’ve said that, my boyfriend will probably read this, freak out and run away- or better yet, maybe he’ll propose tomorrow). And 2. parents usually live out of state, which makes meeting them more involved and take longer (although, considering his came all the way from Michigan to Florida to meet me after 4 months of dating, I must be doing something right). Reversely, I never felt like it was a big deal bringing mine around because they are so laid back and don’t make it into a big deal. Plus they live local and I have a blast hanging with them, so it’s kind of hard to avoid (my boyfriend ended up spending the day fishing with my mom, stepdad and me after only a week of dating; point proven).

It’s weird how not weird all of this has been up to this point. When I went away with my ex to meet his parents (after a year and a half of dating, no less), it felt like I had to be “on” the whole time I was there, like I could never really relax and just be myself, because I was too busy trying to impress them, and I still wasn’t even completely comfortable with him. But this just felt like I was already part of the family (which is great, because that’s kind of the whole point). It’s weird for me to feel so at ease in my relationship so early on. Like we’ve been together forever, and it just fits and is right.

It’s crazy how some people can come into your life and fit into it so effortlessly, like they were there all along. It’s foreign to me to feel like this person was always supposed to be in my life, like one of those cheesy “how did I survive without you until now” moments that are so cliched but couldn’t be more true. For someone who values their independence and alone time, it’s weird to want that one person around all the time, to just be in their presence, to miss them when they’re not there even though you just saw them.

The funny thing is, I don’t feel this overly dramatic, romantic feeling that you can only suspect happens in movies when the main character has fallen in love and declared it will last forever. This is better. It actually feels real this time. I’ve stopped trying to read into things, because I don’t feel like there’s anything to worry about anymore. I don’t feel like I need to validate my feelings to myself or anyone else because, for lack of better words, they simply just fit; I couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. And it’s actually not even overwhelming or a little scary to realize you want someone for the rest of your life. It’s just like, well duh, how could you want it any other way?

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Saying goodbye to a piece of our family

My sister came over tonight and cried on my couch after just having put her cat to sleep, and even though it wasn’t my cat, Cinnamon had been apart of our family for over 17 years, so I sat on the couch and cried with her. We knew she was old and sickly, so this wasn’t a total shocker, but I honestly wasn’t prepared to come home from spin (knowing full well my sister was coming over tonight, anyway) to this news.

I feel so sad for her, and for Cinnamon, because it isn’t easy saying goodbye to a furry best friend. I always joke that with my luck, my bastard cat will never die, she’ll just keep shitting on my floors for the rest of my life. But when that day finally comes and Felix is no more, I’m not sure how I will manage. Pets may not be as important to some people as other humans are, but when they’re in your lives for that amount of time, and they become apart of your family, it isn’t easy to let them go, even if you know it’s what’s best for them. I know there are varying degrees of loss and sadness (and I’ve been quite fortunate enough to not have experienced the most extreme cases of it), but any loss in general, when it affects the heart, is enough to make adjusting to life without that person (or beloved pet) almost unbearable. It’s crazy to think how, eventually, with time, these emotional wounds do finally heal (though we may never be the same again, it does get easier) and that we’re able to continue living our lives while that other individual no longer can. Life is such a funny, fragile concept, and I’m not sure I’ll ever really understand it, but I think I can understand that gut-wrenching feeling you get when you realize you have to go on without someone (because I’ve been there, in other ways). It takes a lot of strength to accept loss and move on, and anyone who has ever experienced it, big or small, will know what I mean when I say some days you just want to cry. And that’s okay. There will eventually be other days that you can look back on that person or pet’s life and know they lived a good one, regardless of how short or long they thrived, and be happy you had them in your life in the first  place. It’s not an easy place to get to, but just know it’s possible, and never give up the fight to get there.

I realize it might be ridiculous to write a eulogy for a cat, but I think if it makes a difference to just one person (that one person being my sister), then it wasn’t ridiculous at all, it was completely worth it. So here it goes:

Cinnamon was a good and loyal cat, one who preferred time alone to sleep in the sunlight, but who (especially in her old age) also enjoyed a good snuggle and back scratch from anyone who would give her the time of day (which was everyone). She loved sleeping squished in cardboard boxes and licking the water from a dripping faucet. In her younger days, she liked to sleep on people’s heads and stay as far away from Felix the cat as she could. In her wiser days, she preferred to curl up on a soft blanket somewhere and stay as far away from Felix the cat as she could. She was a pet and a best friend, and she will be forever loved and missed.

RIP Cinnabunner

RIP Cinnabunner

 

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