100 Things July 27, 2005

Originally written April 3, 2005
Updates made July 26, 2005
More updates: March 18, 2006

1. I’m 35 years old and I’m still doing homework. Why? Because I love school so much I can’t stop going. And I love putting off doing my homework so I can freak out at the last minute.
2. I believe I have the power to make red lights change to green by inching my car up a little at precisely the right moment. I don’t always get it right, but mostly I do. When it doesn’t work, I blame my husband for foiling me. He programs traffic signals as part of his job.
3. I have a sick addiction to Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I don’t even like it that much, but I always want to eat some.
Update: Still addicted
Update: Over it. They did something to it, and now it’s not so cheesy anymore, or something. Or I just, after 35 some odd years, got sick of it.
4. I’m also addicted to Lean Cuisine pizzas.
Update: I’ve gotten over this. I’ve reverted to Totino’s Party Pizzas, which are usually on sale for 10/$10 at the local grocery store. I have to add more cheese, though.
Update: Totally over the Totino’s party pizzas (thank god, because there’s like 60 grams of fat in each one. Nasty.) I’ve developed a strong love of the Lean Cuisine “crispy in the microwave” panini sandwiches, especially the Southwest Chicken. And I think pretty much everyone else in my town has, too, since the store is always out of them. They’re really tasty.
5. I’m also addicted to cigarettes. Winston Lights.
6. I’m not deaf or hard-of-hearing or anything, but sometimes, especially when there is background noise, I can’t hear people who aren’t looking right at me. Maybe I just have a lazy ear. Or maybe I am hard-of-hearing.
7. I have a sneaking feeling that I’m not even going to be able to think of 10 things to tell perfect strangers about myself.
8. I won the district-wide spelling bee in 3rd grade, and I fear that may turn out to be my greatest accomplishment (outside of my children, but they’re young. They can still turn out bad.)
9. I have two tattoos.
10. Looks like I have at least 10 things after all!
11. Sometimes when someone asks me a question, and I don’t have an answer, I make one up. I’m usually right, but I give the answer very convincingly and the someone always believes me. Well, almost always. But even the people who know for a fact that I do this still ask me questions. Do I have fucking GOOGLE written on my forehead?
12. I have an aversion to hanging pictures/art/photos whatever on my walls. It’s just so… permanent. What if I don’t like where I put it?
13. I’ve lived in my house for going on 10 years now, and only a couple of the rooms have window treatments. If you stand on my driveway early in the morning, you can watch my husband’s naked ass walk from the bathroom to the bedroom. He must not really mind, because he bought a blind for the hallway window nearly a year ago and hasn’t hung it up yet. In fact, the blind is dusty, and it has been sitting in a box, leaning up against a wall in my bedroom.
14. I really hate cleaning. I’m bad at it. Dirt doesn’t scare me. I just push the piles away with my foot.
Update: I managed to manipulate my husband into “convincing” me to get a cleaning lady. Yeah, me!
15. There is a blind man (I’m assuming) walking down my sidewalk right now, tapping his cane side-to-side in front of him, carrying a cell phone in his other hand.
16. There is a man who is listed as a child sexual predator on our county’s website who lives down the street from me. He and his wife generally keep to themselves, but the other day I noticed that they now have a baby. Is that allowed? Like any other parents are going to let their kid be friends with that kid, because his/her dad is a creepy predator.
Update: He sold his house, but hadn’t yet moved out when, last week, county sheriff plainclothes detectives came looking for him, and took him away in handcuffs. Bye, Bye sexual predator! We won’t miss you!
17. I waste a lot of time doing unnecessary things just because they are pleasurable to me.
18. I have three dogs. And a cat.
19. My husband is my most ill-behaved child and needs to be beaten daily.
20. I’m proud that my son is a tough-ass 8 year old kid. He ain’t no pansy-ass, I tell you. He knows how to get bloody and dirty. He walks with a swagger. And he still kisses his mommy goodnight.
21. I’m proud that my 9 year old daughter is still a bit naive and innocent (unlike the rest of her 4th grade classmates). I hope she stays that way for a long time, and I hope she still likes me enough to talk about it when reality hits. Maybe reality will never hit. Maybe. Damn, I hope so. She’s really a sweetie.
22. Does it have to be 100 things? Can’t it just be 25? Or 22?
23. I’m a really good cook, as long as I’m cooking for, say, 20 people.
24. I buy too much bread and have to put it in the freezer, and then I have to throw it away in six months. I don’t even eat that much bread anymore.
25. I’m a computer/internet geek wanna-be, but the truth is, half the time I don’t know what the fuck people are talking about.
26. Did I tell you about that Macaroni and Cheese thing already?
27. If you’re still reading at this point, you must really care. You like me, you really like me. Or, you’re just as bored as I am.
28. I like beer.
29. I am an excellent writer. And one day, I’ll be famous for being just that. Oprah will demand to see me. Even David Letterman will want me on his show, but I’ll be nervous and have too much to drink in the green room and talk too much. But I’ll be funny!
30. Earlier when I was outside sneaking a smoke, I noticed a bit of shiny material flapping about in the breeze, catching the sunlight, sticking out from one of the holes in the big birdhouse we have atop a pole in the backyard. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be part of the wrapper from a cigarette package, undoubtably from the mess of them that has accumlated on the top shelf of the shelves out on the back porch, where I throw them when opening a new pack. On one hand, I’m a litterbug, but it’s my backyard, so who cares? On the other hand, I have provided some clearly needed nest building material.
31. I love the Chicago area, even though I want to move to the southeast, and live on a beach in a crappy little shack.
32. I just realized that I could have been spending the day doing what I have been dreaming of doing since I got this laptop for Christmas, as it is a beautiful day, and that is to sit on my backporch and play on my computer while smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I’m moving out there RIGHT NOW.
33. I am really happy right now. I love spring in Chicago. That must be why I like Chicago so much.
34. Damn it all, now I’m chilly.
35. I like beer. Oh, I think that was #28. Okay, fine. I like vodka. No, that’s wrong. I love vodka.
36. I have a bad feeling that I’m going to get a comment inviting me to a local AA meeting.
37. I own a 1956 Chevy Townsman station wagon. It is a beautiful thing. I am going to let my husband put a really fancy and fast engine in it, but I’m going to leave the body alone, at least for a little while, so that when I pull up next to some little asshole in a superfast something or another, and he chuckles to himself, thinking that I will still be attempting to restart my ancient vehicle when he’s already in the next state (like I have to do now), I can blow him away, leaving him in my lead-additive gasoline dust. So there. I love my car.
Update: A car guy convinced my husband not to put a big ass motor in it, but rather to have the existing, original engine tuned up or spruced up or something to make it faster. I’m happy. I mean, it’s a fucking 50 year old station wagon, for chrissakes.
38. The back seat of my 1956 Chevy does not have seat belts. It also folds down, creating a massive empty space that rivals that of my husband’s Expedition with the seats folded down. That space comes in handy when you, oh, nevermind. That’s private.
39. I’m almost out of beer.
40. I’m almost halfway done. But not yet.
41. I hope that at some point in my children’s education, and hopefully soon, they will have to learn html, and they will teach me how to do it properly.
42. When I was about 10 years old or so, my dad took me and my brother to Sportmart. My bro needed some new baseball cleats or something. I wandered around the store while they tried some on. A weird man with a blond afro and very short shorts (it was the late seventies) cornered me in an otherwise empty aisle, pulled his penis out from the bottom of his shorts and twirled it around, saying “Hey little girl.” I tried to get away from him, and back to my dad, but every time I went down a different aisle, there he was. “Hey, little girl.” I finally found my dad, but he was so exasperated with shoe-buying that he didn’t notice how freaked out I was, not that I would have told him anyway. Afterwards, we went to McDonald’s. I’ve written this story a few times over the years. I’ll have to write it again. I remember wondering why the guy had a hot dog in his pants. It was a long time after that that I realized he must have been uncircumcised.
43. My brother once told me that just because I’m smarter than someone doesn’t mean I have to be mean to that someone about the fact that that someone is not smart. I disagree. If a person’s stupidity causes me to be annoyed, they deserve my meanness. I should get over that. But I probably never will.
44. If I run out of beer, I’m going to have to either switch to vodka or go to bed. Or do laundry. As far as homework, well, it’s too late now. Besides, I’m still technically on vacation.
45. I love my crappy little house. And my crappy little car (not the ‘56. the Saturn. the ‘56 is neither crappy nor is it little.). I feel, in a strange way that I’m not sure I can properly articulate, somehow superior to all of the people who live around me who have torn down crappy little houses and built big million-dollar houses and who drive their Lexus’ and their BMW’s and Mercedes’ to work every day, leaving their children in the care of a polish nanny. I feel especially superior to those people who don’t drive their fancy cars to work, but rather work from home, while their polish nannies take care of their children in the next room. It is a special little secret in my heart that I could probably manage to swing just exactly what they’re swinging and still not have to work, but I don’t, because none of that crap matters.
Update: I got a new car a couple months ago. A Honda CR-V. The Saturn finally died. I love my new car.
46. Although, I must admit, I’d love to experience the several-times-daily near-orgasm I would get if I hopped in a cute little Mercedes convertible every day to go to the grocery store. Damnit, sometimes I wish I didn’t have principles.
Update: I don’t actually have any principles. I just don’t have any money.
47. I would love it if some stray friend stopped by right now with a 12-pack of Miller Lite (I know, dog piss, but I like it anyway) and we could sit out on the back porch babbling away for a few hours.
48. I might have to show up at school tomorrow woefully underprepared.
49. Or, I might have to blow off one of my classes tomorrow.
50. Halfway!
51. Doing the Blogclicker/Blogexplosion, etc. thing has found me some very interesting people with whom I can communicate, and that makes me happy. I especially like my writer friends.
52. Maybe while I’m outside sneaking yet another cigarette, I’ll think of what to write for #53.
53. Okay, got one. Remember those old inspirational posters that you would see, say, on the wall in the Catholic school classroom where you endured CCD? The old “footprints in the sand” thing? Well, I believed in that for a while. Then I got older, and a lot of crazy wacked-out shit happened to me (for which I take full responsibility), and I thought, “that’s a bunch of shit-you abandoned me, you asshole. Nobody carried me.” And then I got a little older, and I realized that maybe when there was only one set of footprints, that was when God was teaching me how to go it alone. And for that, and only that, I thank him. Or should I say Him?
54. But there are still times when the phrase, “My God, My God, why hast thou abandoned me?” runs through my head.
Update: And that really fucking annoys me.
55. I’m all teary-eyed now.
Update: WTF? Was I drunk?
56. I’m still trying to deal with my own ideas of religion, what it is, why I need it, etc. I’ve only just this second been able to admit that, even to myself.
57. I am still going to call myself a “recovering Catholic.”
58. My Shady Brady cowboy hat that I bought in South Dakota a couple of years ago is hanging off the chair adjacent to me, still not put away from the trip to Florida. I want to put it on, but if I do, my children will think I’m weird, and my husband will accuse me of being drunk.
Update: I’m wearing it RIGHT NOW! And now, it has a cute scarf tied around the crown, brim, whatever.
59. If I count up all the friends that I have, the true-blue, always-count-on-when-truly-necessary friends, most of them are men. In fact, I think only 2 of them are women. Maybe only one.
60. I truly believe that accepting responsibility for one’s own actions is one of life’s hardest lessons, and the most important of them.
61. The picture that I am using for my desktop background was taken from the pool at my parent’s condo several years ago, and it encompasses their balcony and the ocean beyond, and it is making me sad that I am not there anymore. If I got in the car right now (I’m still basically packed), I’d be there by this time tomorrow. Except that I’ve had too many beers and shouldn’t drive.
Update: I’m going back there on Friday.
62. I am extremely proud of my parents and who they are and what they’ve accomplished in their lives (including creating me, perhaps their greatest accomplishment-ha!). They are good people. Great people.
63. I am eternally grateful to know that my parents are proud of who I am, and proud that I am one of their accomplishments.
64. I hope my kids think the above about our relationship one day.
65. I have sick love for my cell phone. Even though nobody ever calls me on it.
66. I am proud of myself and of who I am.
67. I have few regrets. That might have something to do with the whole personal-responsibility thing.
68. I have to go to the bathroom, but I’m afraid to move because my laptop has some power issues, and if I move, I might bump the precarious hold my power cord has on my laptop, and suddenly my laptop will stop charging, and then in about five minutes, it will just turn off.
69. I love my dog Casey just a teense bit more than I love the other ones. She is a Border Collie, and is way smarter than me. She’ll be nine this summer, and I’ve just realized that I might have to prepare myself for her moving into old age. She is such a wonderful dog, and she cares for all of us in a defiant manner. A fierce manner. I feel safe when she is near.
70. I still miss my cat Chester, who died, jeez, is it really two years ago? Can that be true? He was a stud. I got him when I was 20, and I believe that his attitude towards life helped to form my own. I know that’s a little weird, but it’s true.
71. I have three brothers, and I love them all to pieces. They are fine, upstanding men, and I am proud to call them my brothers. They don’t let me get away with any bullshit, and they love me despite, or maybe because of, my bullshit.
72. I am also eternally grateful to whomever invented toilet paper. Can you imagine wiping your ass with corn husks or something similarly agrarian, and then, as winter deepened, to be asked by your parents to conserve those husks, because they needed to handily whip them up into something burnable, in order to keep the family warm? God, that would suck, would it not?
Update: I’m not sure where that thought came from, but an image from one of the Little House books is coming back to me.
73. I’m getting close to the end here, but I think I need to go out for another smoke in order to contemplate #74. I’m sure it’ll be a biggie.
74. I don’t mean by #45 to sound like I’m judging anybody. You gotta do watcha gotta do to get watcha want. It is not within my rights to judge anybody. I am not without faults. I own one too many pairs of pink shoes, for instance.
75. This is going to be a hell of a long post, and I seriously doubt anybody is going to read all the way through. If you do read all the way through, you win eternal props from me. I will add you to my list of blogs I read, whether I like your blog or not. Of course, you will have to pass some kind of test.
76. All of the little spots on my ceilings where I got wall paint on them and said, at the time “Who the hell is going to notice that, and if they do, fuck ‘em.” I’m the hell who’s going to notice them. And I wish I had a paint eraser right now.
77. I make up stories. It’s all in the name of entertainment.
78. I think I only have two beers left in the fridge. And I’m going to go get one of them right now. Bad news. There was only one.
79. I left about eighteen beers in the fridge in my parent’s condo. Damn. And, I just remembered that I forgot to call my brother, who is down in fla right now, to ask him to go down the hall to my parent’s place and remove all of the crackers and dry cereal from the cabinet that I left in there. My parents are going to be really pissed if they go down to a batch of roaches. Maybe the beers will make them feel better. I hope so.
Update: My parents arrived there today, and I haven’t yet gotten a call involving the words, Cockroaches everywhere! or You’ll never stay in this condo again! Maybe they just drank the beer and they’ve made a game out of stepping on cockroaches. God, I hope so.
80. My dogs like to sneak down into the basement and eat catshit out of the litter box. Disgusting. No wonder they’re fat.
81. This is getting old. I like to babble, but this is ridiculous.
82. I hope that one day, when my novel is published, I get a letter or e-mail from a reader that tells me that my story changed them in some meaningful way. That would make it all worthwhile.
83. I also hope that some day I am a good enough writing teacher that I help at least one person to express themselves better than they had already been able to do. They don’t have to thank me for it or anything. I’ll know, and it will give me satisfaction.
84. I believe that knowing how to write well is perhaps the most important thing to know. Don’t ask me to elaborate. For cryin’ eye, I’ve been drinking beer for hours now.
85. Oh, God, when will it end? Who the hell is going to read this anyway?
86. My son likes to crack his neck by whipping his head side-to-side. It’s cute, but creepy, and weird. And I fight the impulse to tell him a-la “you keep doing that and your face is going to stick like that” that he will have some serious arthritis of the neck when he gets older.
87. My son calls me Mammy Salammi. As opposed to Mommy Salami. I love him. He’s quite a character.
88. I hope my kids did their homework over Spring Break. We were having too much vacation to care. Well, I was anyway.
89. I’m so close, I can’t stop now. But I really want this to be over.
90. And I didn’t think I’d even be able to think of 10 things. I think another cigarette is in order. I smoke too much. But, damn, I love it.
91. I named all three of my dogs after Grateful Dead songs. Casey-duh, Casey Jones. Jed is Tennessee Jed, all official and pedigreed and all. And Peso is even better. The son of a national champion (not that he’s done shit since being born, not fault of his own, I’ve got better things to do than trot around a show ring, and although my husband has little better to do besides remodel the basement than to trot around in a field, we haven’t finished him in the field either) is Gonia’s Mexicali Blues. There’s a story there. He has a little round spot on his forehead exactly like his sire (the Peso). My husband went to Vegas right before we got him and won (or rather, didn’t lose) enough money to pay for him, more pesos. His sire’s name is Gambler’s Ace in the Hole. We got him on May 5th (Cinco de Mayo). I could go on. But he’s a damn cute little dog. Peso. Little sweet thing.
92. I was just short of nine months pregnant when I went to Jerry’s last show at Soldier Field. I danced my ass off, hoping to induce labor. It didn’t work. In one fell swoop, my whole life changed. House purchased and closed four or so days after that show. Daughter born 10 days after that. Jerry died a couple weeks later. Don’t think you’re going to slip slowly into parenthood and responsibility, missy. Jerry’s dead-it’s over. Grow up.
93. I really wish that Jerry Garcia wasn’t dead. I have missed the music he could have made to be a soundtrack of my life for the last ten years. I’ve found other music, yes, of course. But I really wish that Jerry had been around. When my friend Susan called me that hot August morning nearly ten years ago to tell me, and I turned on the TV, I was holding my freshly born daughter and just barely getting into the groove of being a mother. I said out loud, “No, no,” several times. I cried and held her. We miss you, Jerry.
94. A long time ago, when the internet was very new, or at least to me, I had an IBM PS1. Dorky little machine that required me to insert disks when I wanted to do use a particular application. It was the new shit. My mom bought it for me (thanks, Mom). I bought a pair of running shoes over the internet. Damn. That had to be fifteen years ago.
95. I’m dry. I’ve got nothing. I’m also slightly drunk. I miss the beach. I miss the beach a lot.
96. I can’t give up now. I’m so close.
97. It’s sad that most people will read the first few things, and then the last few, and all I’ve got to offer for these last few is this tired, sad, pathetic, half-drunk crap.
98. I am getting a professionally-designed blog. Soon. I’m all excited and giddy about that, and I’d do a dance, but I’ve been sitting in front of my computer all day and my back is all seized up.
Update: And the fancy professional design is beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? And now I’m in the midst of moving over to my own domain, www.vikibabbles.com! I’m so happy!
Update:11/13/05: And now I have ANOTHER professional design. What’s wrong with me?
99. Oh, lord, I never thought I’d see 99.
100. Ah, fuck it. I give up. Wait! I’m done! Ha!