(11:15:11 PM) John: we’re so alike that our sex could almost be called masturbation

To continue to dish on my awkward family, I am including a follow up segment about my father.

Our relationship is always very stressed when we are together because we are so alike. We have “the gene” which refers to his side of the family where everyone is stubborn, mean, hates life, and a huge pessimist. Well, that’s what we say at least. It’s a curse. We are all also destined to lose our first loves. So far, it’s proven all true.

But the thing about my dad is that he really is an incredible person. Despite how grumpy he always seems to be when he gets home from work or how much he yells when he doesn’t even mean to, he is the most amazing person I’ve ever met.

When he was 19, he moved from the east coast to Colorado on a whim. He decided to later to go to college and paid his own way through college and grad school. He managed to graduate 3rd in his class. He used to joke that everyone was so much younger than him that to go out on weekends, he would have to grab a beer with his professors. They were the only people that were old enough to drink with him.

He applied for a job with the government, and when they never called him back he called them and asked for a reply. The guy on the phone freaked out and immediately gave him the job. He’s been worked there ever since.

From day one he and my mom have been saving for my brother and my college. There was never going to be a choice in the matter, we were going.

My dad hates his job and can’t wait to retire. All he wants to do is take pictures. He’s also an amazing photographer.

But he has been putting off retiring because I picked a school that is extremely expensive. 40k a year. But he wanted me to have the best. He pays for everything because he doesn’t want me to have to work while in school, he wants me to focus on my studies.

And now, he is spending his own retirment money on my brother’s private high school tuition. 10k a year.

So for education, my dad is spending 50k a year. Yeah, it’s that important to my family. But he has been planning for this, and going to a job he hates every day for almost 30 years so he can do this for us.

Not to mention how hard he has pushed us. Every day he asks for grade updates and making us do homework. He pushed me to tears thousands of times during my grade school years, but he gave me a work ethic because of it. Not to mention, I’m too afraid of him to get bad grades now haha

But that’s why he is awesome. Now let me go into why he can be hella awkward.

First off, like I mentioned before, he doesn’t want me or my brother to be surprised by anything. So he was the one that gave me my first lesson about drinking.

We were watching the famed college movie “Animal House” on tv and my dad used this as an opportunity to teach me. He grabbed one of the “fuffy” drinks my mom likes to drink and poured me a small cup.

“Drink it,” he said. I was surprised, but I did. He poured another cup. Then, he went over to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle I didn’t recognize. I didn’t even realize that we had a liquor cabinet. He showed me the bottle. “This is everclear.” He poured a bit into the cup. “This just increased the amount of alcohol in that drink.” he told me how much, but it was a long time ago, I don’t remember. I just remember drinking the drink, tasting no difference, but being really surprised how much alcohol was in there.

He then described to me “the college party”. The one thing I remember him telling me was: “Rule #1: You never have catching up to do.”

I don’t remember the rest of what happened that night, but I felt so close to my dad, glad that he taught me something I was probably never going to learn from someone else. He also gave me to solid advice: “If you’re going to drink, drink. If you’re going to do drugs, do drugs. Just don’t do both.”
My father also gives me the best dating advice. He gives me insight into things that my mom can’t and makes me feel better about the things I do. I complain to my mom, but I get advice from my dad.

Of course, he can be incredibly awkward too.

We were on vacation once, and we were at the Olive Garden. I wanted to go home because I was sick of being away from John. My dad made the comment “You just want to get home because you need to get serviced.” My mouth fell open and my eyes got wide. I couldn’t believe he said that. Granted, it was totally true. But STILL!

And on this same vacation, we hung out in bars a lot playing pool. To distract us, my dad would throw in some pelvic thrusts. We always missed those shots.

The man is incredible, the man is hilarious. He is a great dad. I could talk for hours about him. But I’m sure everyone’s bored of hearing about it now.

<3 love my family

Sorry I’ve been gone, lots of studying and wasting time, you know how it is.

WARNING: contains emotional complaining and reasoning like I used to do on my old livejournal blog. It will probably make no sense, it’s just how my head is working through how I’m feeling right now. Turn back now. You’ve been warned.

But I think I finally understand the term “hopeless romantic.” And it’s actually much more hopeless and slightly more morbidly romantic than I think most people use it for.

Originally I thought it just meant you can’t help but be in love, you just love to be in love. But really, that’s just a romantic.

I think a hopeless romantic is someone who would rather love and lose than ever love at all. Cliche as it is, it makes a lot of sense.

They would rather love someone so much and know they loved them back that much, and then lose them to say, death, than to live a life of a bunch of half-loves.

Moulin Rouge helped me to figure this one out.

And I’m pretty sure that’s my problem. I put everything into every relationship, I never just half-ass it. If I didn’t try as hard and didn’t expect as much back, would I be happier?

Not to say I’m not happy. I’m actually much much happier than I’ve ever been. I still have my insane moments where I just lose it and all my insecurities come flooding out in a rush of jibberish, but they happen a lot less often than they used to. I used to have them ever few days, back when I was dating douchebag (blake).

Now it’s every few weeks, and only when I’m away from John. He takes care of me a lot better, but I feel bad because I still require so much effort and attention.

That’s why I try so hard to be the best girlfriend ever. I feel like if there are enough good things about me to cancel out my flaws, the person I’m with will put up with me. Too bad I feel like it’s my flaws that stick out, not all the good things.

It could be months in between my little freak outs, but when the next one happens, it feels like the last one was only days earlier.

And I hate it when people think I don’t know that I’m being irrational. I know very well that I can’t explain how I’m feeling and that what I’m feeling makes no sense and that I have no idea what’s going on in my head. I KNOW THAT! Trust me, it drives me nuts too.

I know the problem is with me, I just need someone to help me deal with it, because if I didn’t, I’d lay in my room and sulk.

During my little freak outs, I don’t eat, I don’t move, I don’t talk to many people. I just lay in bed and think. I try to use music to pull me out of it, but then I just end up listening to sad music.

Oh my flaws are many. The ones I’m aware of?

- I’m overly competitive to the point that I can lose friends over it
- I tend to like to be the victim so people will pay attention to me
- I am WAY too emotional, I have cried during commercials
- I need things, but I don’t always know what I need, I just know I need something
- I hold grudges like WOAH
- I think I talk about myself too much, I’m really self-centered
- In relationships, I want some kind of commitment or plan to feel secure, and I want constant reassurance, which means lots of attention

I really really hope my good qualities outweigh my flaws.

Why is it that people spend so much time and focus so intently on and only notice flaws?

ack, sorry, what a waste of a post.

“You know your friends love you if they clean your vomit out of a trashcan for you the next morning.” - Megan

So Sunday morning I woke up 2 hours before I had to get on a plane, looked in the mirror, and both my eyes were practically glued shut with gunk of some kind and when I got them to open, they were blood shot red.

I woke up with a duel case of Pink eye.

This was on top of the cold that I had developed once again which consisted of nasal congestion and hacking up green stuff.

My mom was angry that I couldn’t have developed pink eye the night before, when I could have gone to the doctor. No, I had to do it at 8am Easter morning.  Since it’s really irritating, my mom rummaged through our old prescriptions and found some eye drops that had expired in 03. I was forced to use these to get through the day. (It’s 08 for goodness sake! That’s 5 years expired!)
So I got on the plane, flew to Ohio, and eventually got back to school. It was nice to be back, except for one thing. The fridge.

Now let me just say that I don’t keep a lot of things in the fridge my roommate and I share in our room. Mostly because its located right next to her dirty clothes hamper and I just find that disgusting. But occasionally I like to put a few orange juices in there for a rainy day. Well, apparently my roommate spilled some milk, and none of us realized it.

So when we had to defrost and unplug out fridge before spring break, it was left to grow in an enclosed, moist, and warm environment for a week.

Needless to say, when I opened it Sunday afternoon, it was like a wave of toxic fumes bellowing out of tiny box. It was RANCID. I quickly closed it, aired out the room, and waited for the roommate to get back so she could experience it herself.

When she did, her entire family was present. They then forced us to clean it. It was harder than cleaning up puke from St. Patrick’s day.

I wish I had gotten a picture because it could probably have made an awesome science project.  Alas now, after me doing a lot of hard scrubbing, its clean again.

Today I went to the market and stocked up on yogurt, orange juice, and hummus. Yes, hummus, it’s good. Don’t knock it till you try it.

Monday however, didn’t end as happily. After going to class and actually staying awake, I headed over to the health center. After two hours of medical enjoyment, getting blood drawn and waiting on prescriptions, I walked out with three different meds (eye drops for my eyes, an antibiotic, and pseudoephed) and a diagnosis of a random bacterial infection. They also tested me for mono (negative), anemia (negative), and hypothyroidism, which I wont get the results back for a few days because they had to send it out.

Hypothyroidism is a possibly explanation for why I’m always so damn tired. I doubt I have it, but it’s nice to cover all the bases, especially when insurance pays for it!

Now I have to put eye drops in 4 times a day, take 1 pill three times a day and pseudoephed occasionally. That’s on top of the BC and SSRI’s. Yes, count that up, I’m on 5 different medications right now. AWESOME!

haha At least I can laugh about it. As long as I get healthy, I’m so tired of being sick! And sick of being tired!

Hopefully it will be a smooth last 7 weeks of school!

Leaving home just doesn’t seem to get any easier. All I can think about is the ordeal I have to go through tomorrow morning at the airport. Check in, say goodbye to parent(s), go through security, sit and wait, get on plane, sit and wait, take off, attempt to ignore talkative person beside me, read, land, baggage claim, then sit and wait three hours for the school shuttle to pick me up.

Something about that just makes me want to bawl because honestly, that’s just tear-worthy.

It’s not so much the going back to school thing, because I love being at school. I love my friends and it’s hella fun there. But I HATE leaving my parents and my boyfriend and I REALLY HATE traveling. The airport is the damn worst part. It’s like ample time to reflect on the fact that I won’t see my family and boyfriend for a month and a half while trying not to cry in front of strangers.

One time I was bawling while sitting and waiting to board the plane, and I was obviously making a scene because some old guy came up to me and offered me a tissue. I felt exceptionally pathetic but couldn’t stop crying.

I’m just too damn emotional.

I’m going to miss getting hugs, and my mom bringing me soup when I’m sick (because yes, I am once again sick.) I’m going to miss cuddling and getting a kiss on the cheek. I’m going to miss a lot of things.

And sure, I always get: but it’s only a month and a half! I don’t care about your month and a half, I MISS MY FAMILY!

….even if my dad calls me a butt sex whore in not so many words….

But as for my spring break, nothing exciting. It was a nice, relaxing week at home. Hung out with the family, saw some friends. It was some excellent and fun times.

Really nothing exciting happened, which is how I wanted it to be.

Now all I want to do is give everyone in my family a big hug and make them not let me go back to school….or at least not have to fly back. ICK!

I could not possibly be more bored right now. I’m in geology 111, “Rocks for Jocks” and I have to skip Green Beer Day because I’m flying home tonight and apparently air ports do not look kindly to drunk college students trying to board planes via the baggage claim.

For those that don’t know, Green Beer Day is MU Ohio’s bitch slap to the university for scheduling spring break over St. Patrick’s Day. They think that if no one is in school on this day, then kids will be less likely to drink. What do we do? Create a drinking holiday of our own.

Every year, GBD is the thrusday before spring break. It starts at 5:30am thrusday morning and ends at 5:30am friday morning. Yes, a full 24 hours of drinking.

Everyone skips class, wears a green shirt, and drinks green beer. It’s a campus wide shit show.

Professors, having learned of of long tradition, have been told to schedule tests today and tomorrow. Most just cancel class, or tell us not to come unless we are sober enough to sit still and be quiet. I got extra credit for coming to class. Excellent.

But I’d much rather be drinking beer. Green Beer.

Sadly, this year I have to head home early because there is a $300 difference between the plane ticket home today and the ticket for tomorrow. So I have to sit here in class, next to a guy who smells very pungently of beer and is sporting a VERY green tongue, wishing I was not sober.

Luckily, My parents felt sorry for me and agreed to celebrate with me tonight. We’re going to play a mad game of “pass out” and maybe some drunk pool.

Drink Strong, my friends, Drink Strong.

I have a very interesting relationship with my family. My dad’s philosophy is that we (his kids) shouldn’t be surprised or ignorant to things we will no doubt be exposed to in life. For example, my younger brother and I were tasting his beers and choosing our favorites since we were about 13. My parents have never really been shy about swearing around us, but we were never allowed to use the “adult language.” And only when I got older did I start to get the sex jokes my dad had been making my entire life.

My relationship between my parents, specifically my mom and I, can be summed up in roughly one instance that happened while I was in high school.

One morning I woke up feeling awful. I went downstairs to tell my mom I was feeling too sick to go to school then went back upstairs to get back in bed, but never made it. I had to make a stop off to the bathroom to begin throwing my guts up. I went back downstairs to tell my mom I just thrown up. She looked at me like I was insane because I had come down to tell her this and was not still over the toilet. Luckily there was another bathroom on that floor, so I ran to that one and got sick again.

My mom called the school to let them know I wasn’t going to be there that day. This was when my dad comes downstairs since he had taken off work that day. Hears me spewing my guts. He walks over and asks, “So, hungover or pregnant?” I just look at him, then go back to getting sick.

I think I fell asleep in the bathroom for a while. My parents wouldn’t let me leave to go back up to my room so I just laid on the tile. Every so often I would wake up to get sick again, but for the most part I slept.

When I finally woke up and wasn’t tired anymore, and I was getting sick less and less often, my mom came and sat just outside the bathroom with me to keep me company since they still wouldn’t let me out. Yes, my parents essentially locked me in the bathroom.

We talked for five hours about just about everything.

It was during this conversation that I admitted to my mom that I was no longer a virgin, that I had been drinking, and numerous other awkward things most mothers and daughters don’t really talk about.

It started out with a talk about boys. We bashed my ex boyfriends, and talked about how wonderful John is (who was my boyfriend then, just as he is now.) He was in college and I was still in high school, so my mom felt she should ask if we had been having sex. We had only been dating a month by then, and NO, we hadn’t had sex yet. I might be easy, but not that easy.

But I admitted that I had slept with Blake. (Ex boyfriend, Long distance, Jerkface, you get the gist) She was surprised, she hadn’t suspected it. But then she reacted in a way I was not expecting.

She then asks me: “So how was it?”

“Terrible,” I reply, “I just laid there and wondered if he would ever finish.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, every woman has thought that to herself at least once.”

I love my mother. She asked me about where, and when, and of course if we used protection. We then had a conversation about different kinds of protection. She said she had heard that now there were all kinds of condoms like flavored, glow in the dark, etc.

“Back in my day,” she said, “there was only ribbed and unribbed!”

She told me about when she lost her virginity and about the guy and how old she was. I was 17, she was 19. And neither one of us waited till marriage, so I felt better about that.

She gave me a few tips on how to actually enjoy sex, you know, whenever John and I actually did do it.

And when John got brought back up again, the topic changed to drinking. While I may have corrupted John sexually, he brought me to the drinking side, and my mom knew it.

She told me to be careful, he was in college, etc. etc. etc. But she didn’t really seem concerned. She asked me if I had a favorite drink yet. I didn’t, all I had been drinking was shitty natty light, which I have now come to appreciate as “College in a can.”

But there we sat, for five hours just discussing everything. I told her about my friends and the drugs they did, about the drama at school, and about the rumors about all the slutty girls. Who knew moms enjoyed high school gossip too?

I still look back on that day with the best memories, despite the puking up bile and pasta Alfredo.

That defines my relationship with my mom to a ‘T’. My dad is just as interesting. I’ll save that for another post.

Why do ex boyfriends have to be so awkward?

I mean, you deal with the whole break up thing and you try and stay friends, but then it doesn’t work because you find someone you like much better and you just don’t want to deal with the drama. Yet the persist and IM me and text me and send me awkward bumper stickers on facebook that they know my new boyfriend will see. Honestly, I think they do it on purpose.

I mean really, who sends a bumper sticker that says “Don’t drink and text” with a little phone that says “your hot. lets sex.” Really, that’s not going to make people wonder? Especially after you haven’t spoken for a few months. And then out of no where they see a bumper sticker and think of you?

And then there is the one that IMs me and says “I miss how you used to talk.” Really, I was under the impression that once things ended, you don’t talk like that anymore. Especially when again, haven’t spoken since before graduating high school. The conversation went as follows:

him - “hey”

me - “uh hi”

him - “long time since we’ve talked”

me - “yeah”

him - “I miss how we used to talk”

me - “I didn’t realize we were still friends”

him - “I didn’t realize we weren’t”

Usually when you don’t talk for over 6 months, friendship becomes “oh yeah, I knew that kid once.” I thought that was given. Turns out he just wanted to tell me about his new girl friend. She’s a gymnast. I’m so…happy for him? Not sure why he felt compelled to share that with me.

But yeah, I just had to rant about that. And for the record, I love drinking and texting. I have some of the best conversations with my boyfriend that way. teehee