[kiss my crisis]

I have found a new religion

And it's name is Massage Therapy. Our virtuous leader is Daniel, The Geeky RMT. He tells painfully corny jokes and plays questionable home-made music on his little tape player.

He's a little too proud of being 'also a musician', like being a Massage Therapist wasn't really his dream career and he's just doing this till the music thing pays off. He went into great detail about how he and his musical partner wrote and recorded all of the songs themselves. On a four-track recording system! That's him singing in the background! It only took one take, right through, for this song! He plays the mandolin AND the drums! He wanted to try something a little Japanese with this one!

Let me be very generous and diplomatic and describe the music as a cross between the Tibetan Monks Tantric Choir and Steely Dan. That's right.

I am thinking that the bad jokes and the bad music were all a cheap ruse to keep my mind off the fact that I was paying him good, hard-earned money to abuse me physically. I'll admit that I'm somewhat of a banana but I have a bruise on one forearm from one of his more aggressive 'pressure points' and I'm afraid to look at my back in the mirror. I'm so totally going back on Monday.

2 comments! kim e posted at 12:01 AM
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The stages of grief

These past few weeks I've been putting my own personal issues aside and providing a shoulder for my sister to cry on, a stronger arm to lean on. After seven years of marriage, a five year old son, and a new fetus that they tried so hard to make stick, her husband decided that he was no longer happy in their relationship. He'd rather be single and pursue a relationship with the reporter he works side by side with. (he's a camera man for the news) Bastid.

She skipped the first stage of grief, Denial...because, let's face it, when shit is staring you in the face it's hard not to see it. On the night she threw him out on his ass I went over to be with her. After the hysterical crying and hyperventalating settled down she moved right on to the second stage of grief, Anger. And oh baby, was she angry.

We set down at the computer to write a therapeutic email to The Woman and The Husband, hoping it would make her feel a little better to purge some of the things she was feeling into words. Here is what we came up with:

Dear Reporter With The Bad Cavewoman Hair,

As it is unlikely that we will ever meet face to face, I would like to take this opportunity to discuss our mutual association. It was revealed to me this evening that you and my husband of seven years have been carrying on a relationship outside of work for quite some time now. In light of our marriage, our five year old son, and my new pregnancy, I find this behavior very unprofessional.

After reading your email to Husband With Uncontrolled Cock of last week, titled 'For Your Eyes Only', I have direct and intimate knowledge of your ongoing relations with him and your feelings about such. Surely you will be pleased to know that he is no longer cohabiting with me and our son and is now free to continue your infidelity without future complications. I would like to thank you for facilitating the discovery of Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock's true nature, as I'm sure you realize, it takes a very special man to cheat on his pregnant wife. Hopefully you will be there to provide a shoulder for him to cry on when he is faced with the reality of his actions and the life (or lack thereof) he is left with, as a result of his and your decisions of the past months. It is also my hope that you can help Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock find a way to explain to his son that his daddy doesn't live with him anymore.

In closing, I would like to wish you all the best of luck in the future with my lying, cheating, cowardly husband. I am confident that the two of you are perfect for each other.

Regards,
My Pregnant Sister

We wrote it, I went home........and she SENT it. Not just to the two Infidels, but to everyone in his office as well, including producers and news director. To his business partner. To his mother. To his two sisters. Like I said - Anger.

I'm not so sure about the Bargaining stage of grief, I think she was too mad. Then she moved right on to Depression. She's been very sad, not eating, not sleeping, which is not good for the contents of her uterus.

The final stage of grief is Acceptance but I think we've skipped right over that one too because Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock is back.

*Names have been altered to protect the messed up

2 comments! kim e posted at 10:45 AM
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All's fair in love and war

It's been a little stormy over here and I'm still not sure if we see the world with the same eyes but it's ok. It's not perfect, but does 'perfect' even exist? We have spent time apart, eight months of seperation a couple of years ago as a matter of fact, and I know from that experience that together is better than apart.

Who said married people have to become mind-melded pod people? I'm far from a Stepford Wife but I'm not a bitch on wheels either. (Although, last weekend I was accused of being a 'Jerry Springer all-that *snap* *snap* tough guy'. That may have been a result of me reminding him of where the door is. But tht's neither here nor there.)

We're working on it. I think effort to make make a relationship work is inherent but at what point do we draw the line? At what point is the result not worth the effort put forth? I'm thinking that we'll know it if we see it.

4 comments! kim e posted at 1:47 PM
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Things you should never say to your wife

'you're not the prettiest girl in the room'

'you haven't cared what you look like for ten years!'

6 comments! kim e posted at 1:45 AM
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Along with school comes the germs

As all parents know, children are coughing, sneezing, disease-infested hooligans. 'Back To School' is really 'Back To Cooties' as 20+ children get together to combine their bacteria and conncoct Super Strength Germs.

But the unfair thing is: they're cute. And we love them. Our own children could be the most drooly, sneezy, sickly little things but we have the overwhelming and incontrollable urge to kiss, hug, cuddle, and otherwise comfort them with all of our parenting get-better powers. Unfortunately, this leaves us completely unprotected from said Germs.

I fought hard, and I fought strong but this weekend I succumbed to The Germs and now have a voice like I have been smoking for a minimum of 50 years. Every time I cough I expect to see a lung fly out of my mouth.

4 comments! kim e posted at 11:04 AM
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God Bless School

I sit here on Tuesday, the blessed day after Labour Day, enjoying my morning coffee and trembling with anticipation. This is going to be the last late-start, quiet, relaxing morning before the true chaos that is The School Day begins.

They start today at 11am and only go for an hour. I'm not really certain what is the point of this short day. Counting heads? Tease the parents mercilessly? An hour is a small taste of freedom, but I'll take what I can get.

My bright, beautiful, smart and cheeky children have been the source of endless fun and amusement this summer...along with the headaches and pains-in-asses that go along with any extended vacation. At times it feels like a cage match but thank goodness those days are few (but I can't say '...and far between'. The moms know what I'm talkin' 'bout.)

My baby starts Preschool this year, which is a little bittersweet for Mommy. On one hand, being my last baby, I want him to be mine forever. I wish I didn't ever have to share him with the world but at the same time, I am so excited for him and this new adventure he is about to embark on. He has never been to daycare and only plays with his brother and sister, who are much older. My nephew is a year older than he is, but they don't exactly hang out every day so this peer age, group play thing is all new to him. He is SO excited!

I should also mention, my daughter has her very first shiner just in time for the first day of school. While it may appear that way, no, we don't beat her. The kids were having a pillow fight and the neighbour boy whacked her and sent her flying into the computer tower. Her left eye is nice and purple and, along with her newly missing bottom tooth, she looks like a seven year old boxer.

If we can get through this first day with the school calling Social Services about 'suspected abuse', it'll be a good day...

3 comments! kim e posted at 8:45 AM
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...and the fart jokes are plentiful

Due to the fact hat I have an a-hole for a brother in law, I have my five year old nephew for the weekend so that my pregnant, devastated, exhausted sister can get some rest and sort her shit out.

He is an absolute DOLL with eye glasses, a lisp, a great giggle, and an energetic spirit. He and my youngest son are just a year apart in age and act like brothers, complete with the fighting and the comraderie.

As is typical for 4 and 5 year old boys, my boys are obsessed with pee, poo, bums, and farts. At the dinner table, in the bath, in the backyard - and they giggle maniacally. They don't even make sense. All it takes is the word or a sound that might indicate a toot and they're rolling on the floor. God, I love the sound of children's laughter.

I hope he's gonna be ok.

0 comments! kim e posted at 9:43 AM
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Dear Mr President,

Please pull your fucking head out of your fucking ass and do something. "The results are not acceptable"? No fucking shit, Sherlock. Wanna know why people are looting, shithead? Because they're fucking starving! Babies and old people are dying and on the way to view the disaster from his plush airplane all he can say is, "I'm not looking forward to this trip."

You know you're an idiot when Newt fucking Gingrich is critisizing you:
"I think it puts into question all of the Homeland Security and Northern Command planning for the last four years, because if we can't respond faster than this to an event we saw coming across the Gulf for days, then why do we think we're prepared to respond to a nuclear or biological attack?" said former House Speaker Newt Gingrich.

0 comments! kim e posted at 10:15 AM
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Back in the Day

Before my sister and I hit school age we were the best of friends but once we were opened up to the big wide world of elementary school and the new social life it brought we were not so buddy/buddy. She and I were very different little girls with opposite tastes in clothes, friends, and toys. She was a dirt-rolling tomboy and I was a prissy pink princess. We fought quite a bit but still had a love/hate thing going on.

Back in 1970-something I was in Grade 3 and she was in Grade 1. It came down through the playground grapevine one day that a boy named Vincent was picking on my sister. I instantly saw red and gathered up my Knee Sock Posse to hunt this guy down.

Once face to face with the bully I assumed my haughty indignant stance and confronted his behaviour. When he laughed off my confrontation I immediately grabbed a tiny handful of his greasy mane and flung him to the ground screaming, "If anyone is gonna be mean to my sister, it's gonna be ME!". Never underestimate the wrath of a woman protecting her own.

Tonight, I was experiencing a flashback to that day as I drove past her husband's girlfriend's house looking for his truck.

Fucker.