So, there’s this story I want to tell you. It’s really super funny and you would laugh your little butts off, but I think that if I did post it, child protective services may finally show up at my door and arrest me for some seriously poor parenting, or at least for posting grossly improper* things about my sweet children.

So I ask you this instead…

Who do you like for cell service? As it stands, I am leaning towards Cingular. They offered me a, well, banging deal on a fucking rock-star phone, a phone, in fact, way cooler than I am. But I’m open to suggestions.

*improper? inproper? unproper? barney? teletubbies? poopey diapers?

This was supposed to be Vegas week. Tuesday, I was supposed to get a ridiculously sexy tattoo on my back. Wednesday, we were supposed to have dinner at Mortons and then gamble a bit. Yesterday was supposed to be drunk-at-the-pool day, followed by dinner at N9NE and drinks at Ghostbar for Jenny’s birthday. Instead, I am in a perpetual H.I. McDunnough loop.

Today was “go to Denver” day. In a few hours my plane was supposed to land. I was hoping to go to Nallen’s with Molly. I was supposed to see my friend, ASYB’er, and her family. There were supposed to be hugs and kisses and stuff. If I close my eyes, I can smell them. I miss them that bad. We were all supposed to head up to the mountains for a wedding and a night away. It would have been terribly fun to be stuck in the mountains, knowing only those 5 people, my favorite 5 people (one of which has really hot pants*) for a weekend. I was really looking forward to it.

Oh well. I think I was mostly just looking forward to the hug. ASYB’er gives a great hug. I could use one. We could get into some of the other things I could probably really use, but this is a family forum and so I digress.

So, let’s all do go something fabulous this weekend to make up for my abandoned vacation. I, for one, am drinking by the pool this weekend. Maybe someday I’ll go to Detriot.

*sorry, Dunkie. It’s just never not going to be funny.

Dude, my sister in law turned 37 today. That fucking freaks me out. That means that I am going to be 37 fairly soonish. Yikes.

So, yes, today is Jenny’s birthday. We pulled my nephew out of football an hour early, picked his friend up

We baked her a cake,

got her some pretties from Victoria’s Secret and that goddamn Kelly Clarkson CD that is speaking to my 13 year old soul right now and had ourselves a merry little birthday party.

Happy birthday, honey. Thanks for taking me in and taking my kids in. Thanks for smacking me upside the head last week and pulling me back to reality. Thanks for supporting me through all this, even though I am about to break your brother’s heart. Thanks for being the only person alive who is just as or possibly more white trash than I am. Thanks for making me drink margaritas at noon almost every day. Thanks for being constistenly there for me, through 3 kids, through a shitty marriage, through heartbreak and through laughter and through growing up and through more clothes sizes than I can believe myself. Thanks for always having a valium handy when I need it. Thanks for listening to Megadeth with me more than we should. Thanks for E.J.D., my beautiful nephew, that boy that I love like he was my own. Thanks for being silly and pretty and funny and all of those great things that you do so well.

And thanks for still smoking, even if you smoke those Barbie tampon things. And thanks for pretending that you don’t notice that I’ve been stealing one or two occasionally.

And now, for your viewing pleasure…..

long overdue baby pictures taken on my shiny new camera that the greatest two people on the face of the planet sent to me the other day. You know who you are, and your rock my world.

I can handle almost anything you throw at me. Really, I can. I’m a fairly level girl. But this, this is too much. It’s gone to far.

I GET Kelly Clarkson. Like, I feel her and shit. Yo.

I’m listening to her CD right now.

That bastard.

It’s been quite interesting to me, this watching the death of my marriage. It’s been slowly dying for a while now, but now the FF>> has been pressed and things are moving right along.

When we first got here, well, there were angry drunk phone calls and we won’t count those. Once Drunky McDrinkypants sobered up a bit, there were some surprising desperate and frequent calls. Calls where my job was but to listen. Calls full of I love you’s and I miss you’s. Calls suspiciously lacking I’m sorry’s, but that’s a tale for another day. There were how are you’s and how are the kids and let me talk to them, even the baby who only eats the phone and isn’t it really hot there and what about those Broncos calls. There was always and I love you at the end of those calls.

After about a week, those calls turned into more of the oh shit sort of calls. ‘Oh shit, you’re really living in Phoenix, oh shit, I really might lose my job, oh shit I made a totally ass of myself’ calls. Not so much with the how are you and the I love you. Not so much with the talking to the boys. As a matter of fact, those calls didn’t end with I love you at all. They did end with a lovely, awkward pause right at the end of the call where the I love you should go, so it was obvious that it was being omitted.

And here we are. Present day. These calls are fun. They are like fact finding missions. They are lists. ‘Today I went to 2 meetings, kept my job, bought some bagels and watched Dude, Where’s My Car’. As curious as I am about how he is spending all of his newly found free time, I have kind of a lot going on right now and am not so worried about how long he was in the john today. These calls don’t contain the word You. Or They. But there is a whole lotta Me. Which is the natural process of these sorts of things, I suppose. These calls don’t end with the awkward pause anymore. Their ending is the oki’lltalktoyoulaterclick ending.

Time of Death: 8:04 p.m.

It’s funny how it just dies all of a sudden. It’s funny how, though I feel weird about it, I don’t really feel sad about it. It’s like 10 years just never happened, like these kids just fell out of the sky, like we’re right back to barely knowing each other, except without the front seat of the car and the foggy windows and the ‘what was your name again?’ It’s just all so very matter-of-fact.

And I am totally ok with it. What are those 5 stages I am supposed to be going through? Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance? Woo. That’s a whole other post.