Brief Life Synopsis from July 2009 to June 2010:
I hated my job working at a pregnancy counseling center. No men, too much alcohol and access to about $30,000 to start a new life and off I went. I moved to Charlotte, NC to see what I could find on my own (hopefully a human of the male persuasion). Background: I had been on 3 dates in 3 years and my only boyfriend was a drug addict, bassist from Daytona Beach, FL who is currently running from the IRS and government after the mortgage crisis imploded...need I say more? You would have pulled the same stint I did given the chance.
The last 6 months of 2009 were...interesting (to say the least). I dated the chode of all chodes. Lesson learned. Switched roommates and apartments after the new year and decided to get serious by looking for a 'real' job (if those even exist anymore). Too bad for me, I fell in love with a native North Carolinian who came home for Christmas...he lived in Chicago (my home town). Woe is me and oh the irony! I *finally* had freed myself from the midwestern curse of cruising bars for eligible (and extremely privileged, snotty and self-entitled) bachelors and come right back to where I started: home.
Long distance makes for an honest woman so I should be grateful, because once you realize you can't rely on your physicality, you inevitably get down to the meat of it all. Your real personality shows through and the receiving and unsuspecting victim either takes it or leaves it. Fortunately and oddly, he still likes me after 6 months of long distance relations via contemporary technology. Phew! Apparently making fart jokes and talking about my bathroom (mis)adventures hasn't scared him off...yet. With that in mind, I don't know if I should be relieved or worried in my choice of partner...
Current Position in Life:
After living a carefree and expensive life in the overly friendly South, I made an executive decision after consulting the last of my brain cells left from the Drunk Disaster of 2009, to come home and live rent/utility free with my parents. To be honest, living at home isn't too bad. My parents remodeled their basement to include a flat screen every 20 ft. and a bar where I can enjoy my yeast-laced libations to my heart's delight. Oh yeah, the free food ain't too shabby either.
As for the general ambiance, I am quick to forget the livelihood and crassness of my own mother's imagination. I always knew it before, but I really am my mother's daughter. Her mind goes from the gutter up and her sense of humor follows suit. The only difference is that although we both drank our faces off in college and in our early 20's, I retained my mental filter while my mother hilariously (and most times awkwardly) has not. As of about 2 minutes into writing this paragraph about the general environment of my childhood home, my mother referenced the abuse of Catholic Archbishops, damning their behavior while giving an overly vivid demonstration of the extent to which they abused. It went something like this: My mother pointing and extending her index finger in a poking motion while mouthing the words 'anal sex' as if she was teaching the birds and bees to a person who's IQ was below 70. On the Richter Scale of ridiculousness, my mother is at a steady 12...we cower at the thought of the aftershock from such demonstrations to anyone under the age of 15. But to everyone else in my family, it's just mom being mom.
If I can take pretty much *everything* she says with a grain of salt and supply some sort of emotional buffer between my parents, I'm sure I can stave off 'Empty Nest Syndrome' long enough to get her through the change. For this, my father will be eternally grateful. That may even help my inheritance a little, but I wouldn't count on it. You'd have to be super human to influence the uncanny, hormonal fluctuation of a menopausal woman. Just ask Joan Rivers' daughter Melissa. She's been dealing with Joan going through the change since 1968!
As of now, I'll be bartending downtown at a lil ol' place called Third Rail. Where the drinks go down easy and so do the women. Hah! I kid, I kid. Hopefully, I'll be able to make some dough to get my life back on track and to literally pay for my past 'sins of the fodder'. I'm re-assimilating into Chicago culture so I'm doing what every single, young, coed does: joining a softball league. There, I shall (not) live up to the family standard of athleticism and lead my team to victory via embarrassing running and awkward batting stances to which only a frightened turtle can relate.
Until then, my friends, don't fall ill to the temptation of hibernation.
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