Saturday, September 29, 2007

It'd Be Rude Not To

A blonde gets home early from shopping and hears strange noises coming from the bedroom. She rushes upstairs to find her husband naked on the bed, sweating and panting.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I'm having a heart attack," cries the husband.

The blonde rushes downstairs to grab the phone, but just as she's dialing, her four-year-old son comes up and says, "Mommy! Mommy! Aunt Shirley is hiding in your closet, and she's got no clothes on!"

The blonde slams the phone down and storms upstairs into the bedroom, right past her husband, and rips open the closet door.Sure enough, there is her sister, totally naked and cowering on the closet floor.

"You rotten bitch!" she screams.

"My husband's having a heart attack, and you're running around naked scaring the kids!!"


Despite this being yet another blonde joke to roll my eyes at, it did make me laugh. Then I started thinking about how I would react if I was ever in the blonde's shoes. (I'm not gonna touch on the sister naked? hiding in a closet? is one to keep one's arms in the air, if there are clothes etc hanging over one's head? Too far removed from any goal I have in life I'm afraid. Not to mention the fact that she had no shoes on for me to put my feet in anyway.)

So, what DO you do when you're faced with this scenario? Drag the sister out of the wardrobe and whoop her hiney? You know that would only give the man time to get away right?...and that wouldn't be proper now would it? Can't have him missing out on all the fun and and their egos...bound to feel neglected. It's the polite thing to do yes? I am, if nothing else, a caring and thoughtful hostess.

Leap on the man and thrash around on the bed with him? In my body's present frame of mind?...not a bad option...but one could lose focus and actually start enjoying oneself. Whilst the thought of having some wild monkey sex is extremely appealing and has me feeling breathless at the would be best not to get within 2 feet of aforementioned bed. Just in case...because as we already know, one can get sidetracked very quickly when hormones are longing for body contact.

Therefore, I feel the best thing to to remove the bazooka (that you have constructed lovingly from schematics, care of the internet of course), from it's secret compartment at the back of the pantry...and blow them both to smithereens.

I realise it'd be a rather large mess to clean up afterwards, but honestly...she should've known better than to get that close to my shoes. And he should've known better than to put her in that position in the first place.

The cheek of it.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Wave Your Hands In the Air...

I'm getting too surgary. Some of what I've written lately has me feeling like I'm drinking syrup...and seeing as that syrup is not even CLOSE to a good shot of Tequila, then I'm done with it.

I'm restless...I'm pre-menstrual.

Stop! Wait! Let me explain before you back away slowly from your screen!

Having PMS does not always mean I'm gonna get bitchy, k?

Oh, don't be such a sissy and sit the hell down. You know I'm harmless.

The flip side of how PMS affects me? I'm horny...24/7 horny. I know I'm not the only one that feels the urge so strongly at this time of the month, so I know you get where I'm coming from.

The downside of course, is that the object of my desire is out of arms reach. But I've managed to survive this long, so you must know I'm capable of finding strategies to combat the lack of sexual sport myself. Now that I'm the age I am, I HAVE to know how to get through these's imperative I do. Otherwise, some poor man could get hurt in the rush ya know? No one is ever going to convince me that Non-Molestation Orders equal good times.

This morning as I was getting dressed, I glanced across the room and caught my image in the mirror. My arms were up as I stretched the top over my head to remove it. I give you permission to visualise that briefly. I froze in that position and thought "How could anyone NOT want to enjoy those?? They're bloody magnificent!" (Self Esteem 101).

I dropped my arms, put my specs on and took another look.

"Aww...right...fuck" *sigh*

Don't you just love it how everything looks so firm and fabulous when your arms are in the air? It can give the impression that you alone have managed to avoid gravity in the best way possible! Not only that, but when you're steaming for a bit of somethin', somethin'...arms out like that...your body language is literally begging to be had. Whispering and whimpering at a vibrator just doesn't have the same affect. In fact it's downright pathetic. Silent coitus interaction, bar the sound of consistent buzzing, can NO way compare.

I'm not getting any younger and gravity aint gonna bypass me...move your arse SugarLips...desperate times are a'comin'.
Friday, September 21, 2007

Playing the Game

There are several things you notice when you're a single female...especially one in her early 40's. I'm not 25 anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm old (I daresay I'm trying to convince myself more than you lol). From the outside looking in, I'm single....from the inside (that includes you lot, in case you were wondering), I'm not.

But whilst I'm hanging around in limbo, there are those out there that help boost my ego through the empty times when I may be feeling particularly vulnerable.

We all have them right? They're out there smiling, winking, charming their way in with their friendly hearts, making us feel important...acknowledging us. Doesn't mean they want to do anything about it, but it helps to fill in time while we wait.

Nobody likes to think they're invisible all the time. There are moments when we wish we could hide away from the outside world...even moments when we wish the ground would open up and suck us into it's depths....but to go unnoticed on a regular basis? To be ignored like we don't matter? I've had moments where I'd like to climb into the wardrobe, sit in the corner, my face in my hands and block out the realities of life.

There are several people in my daily life that make me feel special. Not in a deep loving sense and not in a way that I, or they, would want to take further. Just enough to make me feel good...enough to make me smile and lift my spirits.

The mechanics at the garage next to the medical centre....a wave, a smile, a "Good Morning!" yelled out from the back of the workshop. The coffee man, who is kind enough to deliver my mocha during a frantic afternoon shift, bringing with him chocolate cake that I haven't asked for (and so far haven't managed to consume before the nursing staff have fallen upon it first lol). The podiatrist at work that always comments favourably on my hair being worn either up or down, or how good I look in a particular colour...the man even notices when I'm wearing new jewellery. (I imagine if you're messing with peoples feet all day, you'd be searching for positives in every way possible lol.)

It's not about needing to be in the spotlight, or demanding the attention of everyone you have contact with during the day. It's about being acknowledged....noticed...even in the smallest way. It could be a raised eyebrow, a cheeky smile, a sideway doesn't matter how slight. It's enough to make us feel something...a warmth that we carry with us...a positive energy that is enjoyed and then easily passed onto another. (I could just as easily type the cliche "Smile and the world smiles with you" and it would give the same message but this is me afterall, and y'all know seven words aint going to cut the mustard on my blog lol.)

(I am SO far removed from the subject that I originally started writing about, that I can't even remember WHAT point I was aiming for lol. Time to wind up and head for bed methinks.)

The vibes and impressions we get from other people and how they relate to us, give off signals that at some point, no matter how small, we've grabbed their interest. It's good to make each other feel special. It's good to give ourselves freely in such a way that we expect nothing in return, yet such small gestures can be reciprocated without much thought at all. It's a natural progression of absoluteness.

Let's face it...we're worth it.

Bet you thought I was finished right? No chance, haha.

Your challenge this weekend my friends, should you care to accept for you to pass your own special goodness onto someone else, doesn't matter who it is, a stranger, a loved one, a blogger, it matters not a jot. You can do it at work, on the street, at home, wherever, I don't care. A smile, a compliment, whatever. SHARE your wealth and inner beauty with others. (And don't try telling me you don't have any, I read you all, I already KNOW you've got plenty). Tell us what you did and the reaction you got here in the comments section. I'd love to hear about it.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Keeping It Real

I went for a quick squiz though my archives this morning. That was some interesting reading if I do say so myself. But it also showed me how different I'm writing these days. Well, the subject matter more than anything. I went there basically to have a read of what one of my new invitees *cough KC cough* was going to get an eyeful of. Dunno how much he bothered reading, but can I just say now...don't go back there!...don't look!...everything's changed, everything's different, I was a different person back then!

Ok, I'm still the same person, so that was a lie *gasp!* You can't knock a girl for trying to bury some of her past when she's feeling slightly foolish about it all now. We all have some regrets at some point that we'd like to lock away in the closet. Good days, bad days, they were and are, a part of life that shapes us. Lessons to be learned and all that blah.

I think I used to be more fun back then. Hell, even I was entertained with it all 2 years down the track lol. But things are so different now in many ways. I seem to have lost a certain "fun-ness" about me. And bless the cotton socks of those that have continued to read me despite that. I'm still fun...I SWEAR!

Course, I have days when I'm no fun at all...just ask some of my closest friends lol. You may have heard me mention on here before that I have an A team...that'd be Alice, Anna and Anne, 3 of my best buddies. Bet you didn't know I had an L team too did ya? That'd be Leilani, Lisa and Lily...3 lovely ladies I'm probably driving potty via email. I know I test their patience some days more than others, but I SO appreciate them all being around in the background keeping me upright.

ANYWAY, I actually had a really good post to put up this I hadn't written yet, but was cruising through my bonce ready to be spilled onto the screen. Seeing as I've written this much already, and I fear that Gary will get mad at me for another lengthy epistle, I shall save it for another day. That can be translated into a day where I can be bothered writing it, ha.

Rugby World Cup fever is sweeping the nation...and being the patriotic girly I am when it comes to our boys in black, I shall leave you with this 30 second video.

So far...

New Zealand vs Italy - final score 76-14
New Zealand vs Portugal - final score 108-13


This is Lisa of Internet Lovers....supporting any colour, as long as it's black...signing out.
Saturday, September 15, 2007

Nature of the Beast

I've been tagged by Some Mexican Chick...I'm going to skip the 8 random facts about me, I'm pretty sure I've spilled my guts across these pages over the last few years, so I've chosen to try answering the question only:

"I love how you write!" (Thank you!) "Your entries give me so much to think about and sometimes you just crack me up. I hope you never lose that lovely sense of humor" (How kind of you to say *blush*. Again, thank you). "So, taking into consideration your current predicament, do you have a Plan B if something were to not come through?" (Oh!....Crap...*mutter mutter*)

That's a pretty hefty question to answer. You and I both know she must be referring to my situation with the currently married Dan and what would I do if he changed his mind and decided to stick his marriage out afterall....or perhaps, our clandestine relationship came to a grinding halt for one reason or another.

It'd be safe to say that for some time now, I've viewed Dan and I as a couple. I have often got to the stage where I've almost completely forgotten he's married (rightly or wrongly, it's true) may be all going on in MY head, but, to me, we're a couple...albeit it a couple trying to overcome some major complications. Despite his absence from my day, not to mention him physically missing from my bed at night, I still feel that way. If I want to make this happen, it's about the only way I can deal with it mentally. Law of Attraction, c/- The Secret, and an' all that blahdy blah.

That's not to say I've forgotten the realities of the situation. I'm unable to ring or text him whenever I have something I'd like to share or something I feel the need to discuss...I don't always know where he is, or more importantly, who he's with. I can't take the risk, so I wait for him to contact me. It's rather one-sided, I realise that, but for the time being, I've accepted it. Don't misunderstand me, I don't LIKE it, but everything considered, I either accept it, or I walk. I get to hear from him when he's able and when he wants to. Not the other way around.

Dan's birthday is coming up in a few weeks. If I want to give him a gift, I have to think of something that's basically 'non-existent'...easily hidden...then figure out how to get it to him. Then I get to pretend that I'm ok about not spending the day with him. I will put up with knowing that his family/friends will mark it with a celebration of some kind. However big or small that celebration might be, it'll be without me. And I'll deal with it because I love him, and because I chose to continue having him in my life in this capacity, and because I hang on and trust that one day he'll be free. For any of you that may have ever been in a similar position yourselves, I know you understand where I'm coming from.

In the past few weeks I've been having some enlightening, if somewhat startling, conversations with an ex boyfriend from the UK (the one I called it quits with last November). Neil said himself, he's like a bad penny "Just when you think it's safe to go out...there I am again". While I wouldn't put it like that myself, it does drive the stake in further that I am again waiting for someone. Whilst Neil is mindful of my feelings and relationship with Dan, he's struggling to change our previous friendship down a gear or two, putting it on a level I'm more comfortable with. Regardless of how conscious he is of Dan in the picture, that didn't stop him from saying "Dan shouldn't take me lightly, I have a self interest in you, as you're now aware, and I won't be giving up easily."

Amazing how he picks his times when resurfacing with such revelations. It's like he has some kind of alarm bell that goes off whenever he feels it must be time to interfere because he's been knocked out of top spot. I've had a song racing around my head recently. It's taken me a few days to realise WHY it's been screaming itself at me...I think it's pretty much in response to Neil's arrogance and the anger in me that's bubbling just below the surface about our history and our recent contact.

It's the waiting and "what if"s that get to me more than anything in this position. But, it's been brought to my attention (and quite rightly so)...waiting is all part and parcel of the situation. We either wait for someone to change their minds, or we wait for the result we think is going to happen. As I've mentioned in the previous post, expectations don't always come to fruition, so there really is no way to guarantee our futures, on any level.

So what I'm basically doing at this point, is pushing back the past and stopping it from getting tangled up in my present...for fear it will get in the way of what MAY happen in my future. Yes I DO know how fucked up that is!

So to answer the question? Do I have a plan B? No, I don't. I'm too busy fighting through the present to be thinking that far ahead. The uncertainty of what may or may not happen in the future is not something I can concentrate on right now. I'm taking it one day at a time.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Gone but Not Forgotten...

It's September 11 today in New Zealand, and while I haven't taken part in the 2996 Project for 2007, I have chosen to repost the one I wrote on this anniversary last year. It amazes me that 6 years have passed already since this tragic event. However, it doesn't amaze me that the void and loss can still be felt as keenly as if it were only yesterday for the loved ones of those fallen.

It is also no surprise that the U.S. nation and the world at large still struggle to come to terms as to the 'whys and wherefores' of the entire situation. And putting aside terrorism, war and retaliation, as I sit here today and think back, another thought strikes me (and not for the first time).

Life is short. At times it can be incredibly unpredictable...we often have no control over that. What we CAN control is how we live it and the love and happiness we spread around those close to us. The negatives of life in general get in the way of that happening many times over the years...we get discouraged, we can feel we lose focus on our goals...we start to wonder if we're going to even reach those goals, ever. We sometimes lose sight of dreams and aspirations altogether.

Because not only is life short, it can be cruel. It is well documented that we only have one go at the time we spend with our feet on God's green earth. And despite the cruelties that this physical world can throw at us, and how many times we've had to get up, dust oursevles off and keep soldiering on, it's an important fact to remember.

You and I are STILL here...we have the chance to make the most of what we have...we are still around to share ourselves and the goodness within us, with others. The smallest gesture of kindness can make someone's miserable day brighter...a smile, a hug...they cost absolutely nothing, yet the reward of passing them on and having them returned, is enough to buoy us through some tough days.

I don't want my life to be filled with "what if"s and have my mind consumed with wondering what's going to be or what could be...I want more, I need more, and like the rest of you out there, I deserve more. We foolishly take it for granted that we are going to be here tomorrow, and at times like these, I think it's poignant to remember that what we expect out of life and what may actually happen in reality, can become two different things entirely.

Rejoice being alive...tell those special to you that you love them...embrace life and it's beauty every chance you get...and hold on tight to what's important to you...take nothing for granted.

Anyway, I'll stop here in case you think I'm trying to morph into the Dalai Lama overnight lol.

It is my privilege to reintroduce to you today, Michael Paul Ragusa. A man that spread his warmth and love around...a man who touched many lives with his willingness to help and make a small part of the world a better place to be in. May his soul rest in peace.


Michael (Mikey) Ragusa had been a plumber for several years before he changed vocation and became part of the New York Fire Department. He'd been a firefighter for a little over 12 months before the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. Michael was a well-loved man by many. I have read so much about how he would help anyone that needed his plumbing skills over the years...he would've given the shirt from his own back if it helped someone else. He was always there for those that needed him.

"He did things to make others happy," said his fiancée. "That's how he made himself happy."

That fateful day as his mother watched the towers in flames on tv, she felt secure in the knowledge that none of her children worked there. No other family member had been part of the fire service before, and as such it can be said she was not thinking like a 'fire mum'. I don't think we can ever ever be prepared for the emotional turmoil that rushes through us, when we realise our children are in such grave danger.

His father later said he had tried to retrace Michael's steps from the time he raced from his Brooklyn firehouse, up to the time he arrived at the WTC. He had each minute in time laid out in his mind....he felt that Michael would have been on the 30th or 40th floor of the tower when it collapsed. How he felt knowing that 70 floors of concrete and steel had come down on his son I can't even begin to imagine.

His sister said he was single-minded. "If we all lined up outside the World Trade Center and yelled, `Mikey stop!,' he still would have ran in."

When word of his disappearance spread through his neighborhood in Brooklyn, dozens of people camped out on his parents' lawn, on their patio furniture and on their living room floor. Strangers who did not know his name came by with fruit baskets to tell of how he helped fix their fences or change their tyres.


The hand of friendship that he offered to others, and his overall love of being 'there' for anyone was made even more apparent on the day he was finally laid to rest....almost two years after the tragedy. His parents had waited for something, anything, to come out of the rubble that was identified as their son. A bone fragment, body tissue, something with DNA possibilities. How could they bury an empty coffin? They HAD to have something.

By coincidence and a passing remark made by a trusted spokesperson of the medical examiner's office, the Ragusas' were made aware that some firefighters had given blood to become potential bone marrow donors.

Michael had volunteered to be a marrow donor.

"On the way home, we were laughing and crying. We were hysterical. We were happy, if you can call it happy," Dee Ragusa recalls. "We had something. Now we had something."

And that's what they buried. Approximately two teaspoons of their beloved son's blood in a glass vial. Two years later, under a clear late-summer sky, flanked by two thousand firefighters frozen in white-gloved salute...nine men in dress blue uniforms slowly pulled a wooden casket from a fire truck and carried the box containing what remained of their final lost comrade into St. Bernard Roman Catholic Church.


Michael Paul Ragusa was born to Vincent and Dee on July 30 1972.

29 years later he gave his life to the people of New York City by doing his best to help save the lives of those occupying the World Trade Centre. He was the last of the 343 firefighters killed in the aftermath of the WTC attack to be officially memorialised.

The Ragusas live in the Bergen Beach neighborhood of Brooklyn, an isolated waterfront enclave that did not have paved streets until the 1960s. This is where Mikey used to play in the empty lots, get dirty, get into trouble. Now their street is named after him.

My heart goes out to the Ragusa family and Michael's friends on this 5th anniversary of September 11. You are truly blessed to have had 29 years with such a wonderful and giving man. From the research I've done and the news articles I've read, it is very obvious to me where his strength and caring nature comes from. Good people are surrounded by and supported by more good people.

It is my honour to pay tribute to this courageous young man and share him with you all today.
Thursday, September 06, 2007

Stating the Facts

Ok, enough dramatics from me. Fact...children are going to get older and leave home. Fact...parents are going to feel the void and adjust in whatever way suits them best. Fact...everyone will get on with their lives, the sun will come up again tomorrow despite drama, hormones and loss.

It's important to get these things into perspective. I, of course, occasionally let it all get the better of me and do a Scarlett O'Hara, throwing myself dramatically against the nearest staircase.

Besides, he came back to me the following day and the important thing is, he will continue to come home to me. Whether he's living under this roof or not. Fact...I'm his Mum...he loves me...he knows how much I love him...and no amount of land mass or ocean depth will make either of us forget that.

No need to cover your ears...I'm not about to burst out with "Aint No Mountain High Enough".

The other night I was watching an ad on the telly for a woman's only gym.

Me: "I'm thinking about joining up at that gym."

Cam: "Eh? But I can't go to that gym!"

"I didn't think you wanted to go with me."

"Well, it's too late now isn't it? You've obviously got other plans."

"But, you said..."

*holding up hand* No's ok...I understand."

"Oh don't be silly."

*feigning hurt expression* "I mistakenly thought we would share some kind of mother/son bonding experience, but I see how it is now."

*grinning at him*

*raising eyebrows*

"Ah Cameron, you warm the cockles of your mother's heart, you do."


"Cos you're going to be under this roof for a while yet, if you can't even go to the gym without me holding your hand."


Don't know what I was fretting about.
Saturday, September 01, 2007

8 Cups of Nothingness

It's Cameron's birthday today. September 1. Born on the 'unofficial' first day of Spring in New Zealand. My hospital room was filled with the most beautiful and vibrant colours from spring flowers this day, 18 years ago.

Cameron is on the home stretch through his final year of college (high school)...he's allowed to vote...he's now driving...he has more in his savings account than I do....and today he can go into the local liquor store and purchase alcohol for his party this evening. Next year he starts University.

I was going to give him a rice cooker as part of his birthday gifts this year. Yeah, you read it right...a rice cooker. If there's two appliances I know Cameron will want when he moves out of home, they'll be a rice cooker and a blender. The kid could almost live on rice and fruit smoothies alone. And while I know he's not moving out tomorrow, I also know that day is going to come a lot quicker than I'm prepared for.

I wanted to buy him 'big people' presents you know? Something to show him I understood he's grown into a fine young man...officially an adult. Something to prove to him that I was ok with this day he will definitely be leaving home...I wanted to show him that I was ok with all of it...he could go and I would survive the tear in my soul.

In theory it stacked up great. What a brilliant mummy I am, I thought...look at me, permitting him to go out into the great wide world without me...look at me, encouraging him, giving him a gift to help him along the way no less.

Patting myself on the back, I went into the shop and stood staring at the various brands and sizes of rice cookers. I stood there for the longest time...just staring at them all. I knew he'd understand the significance of me being the one that gave it to him.

I could picture him in some student flat kitchen measuring out rice and adding water to it. I started picturing him eating the damn stuff with his flatmates...sitting around on unmatched furniture, having a laugh and chatting, watching telly, whatever. As the peripheral vision in my mind panned out further, I could see what was holding me back from reaching out and taking the appliance off the shelf.

It was the lack of myself in the picture. I was missing. Excluded.

I walked out of the store and came home feeling emotionally spent. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to buy it. Who knew that one small and inexpensive kitchen appliance could strike such fear into one's heart? Who knew that under all the smiles and bravado that the very thought of him leaving makes me want to shrivel up inside? I feel the ache of grief constantly today.

I am trying SO hard NOT to let my hormones get the better of me right now....and after reading over the above, it's a tad obvious to me I just failed at that rather miserably. *sigh*