“i’m nobody. and nobody is perfect!” i stated proudly.  (i can’t remember why)

“yep nobody. all of them. because the word nobody is plural.”

“did nobody call?” = plural.
“nobody is perfect” = singular. but since no one is really called “nobody” and the actual phrase “nobody’s perfect” refers to the group…it’s still technically plural. right? right?

the question: is the word “nobody” plural or singular?
alternatively, is the word “everybody” singular or plural?
anybody?
somebody?

c’s argument is that you don’t say “were everybody there?” like you would say “were they there?” so therefore it is singular. fair enough….i agree with him still so far.  

this is one of those questions that make you ponder the meaning of life and why when you see one moose, you say “Oh wow! look! one moose!” but at the same time, when you see 18 of the same animal, you say “oh wow! look! 18 moose”

so is the word singular or plural?

you don’t say “nobodies” or “Everybodies” but the word “Everybody” clearly refers to a group of people. more than one. so…isn’t it plural? or is it singular because you are just referring to one group?

at which point i said to christopher (and this is where the actual philosophical debate began)  ”i think these words all fall under the hermaphrodite category. they are singularly plural. or plurally singular”

“no they wouldn’t be hermaphrodite because that is like saying they are both singular and plural at the same time. but really they are transvestite. because they are plural words dressed like singular words”

but that’s not right. “oh i went to the olympic games. america was there”
does that mean that the physical country was there? or the group of people that reside in america was there? which is it? singular or plural? it’s both. it’s a singular word phrase that refers to a plural subject. “

“no it’s a plural word that is made to appear singular”

:: long silence ::

“honey? are we high? is this what it feels like to be high?”

“yes….kinda….i guess?”

at this point, i had just gotten home and hung up in mid-conversation because he was sitting on the sofa not ten feet from me.

“you hung up. i wasn’t finished.”

i promptly reached for my phone and dialed his number. “sorry dropped call” i said “what were you saying when i hung up?”

“oh wow. there is an echo on the phones. or….lots of echoes”

can you really have more than one echo? isn’t each preceeding echo just an echo of the previous echo making it still the same echo, just echoed again?

can the word echo REALLY be used in the plural sense?!?!?

this is all hurting my head….

i don’t want to be the robber. i’m the cop.
i’m not the cowboy. i am the indian (depending, naturally, on the tribe of choice….)

i don’t know. i just don’t know.
i am so….agitated. so irritable. my existence feels like…like…a wedgie. one of the really bad ones that you can’t fix because you are standing in front of really important people.  and your arms are full.

and the more nuerotic he gets the more insane i feel.

tonight is really hard. i’m just generally low tonight. i have a migraine. i am tired. i am cold. and i just…would want him to be here to hold me and keep me warm. but you can’t be consoled by the person who did this to you.
i was driving home thinking “i wish i could just…have someone home when i got there. so it wouldn’t be dark. and cold. and empty.” but it is dark. and cold. and empty.

and to top it off, i found a slug in the floor.

all i want to do it cry.
and long for someone to be here to make it better. i find it facsinating how intensely i long for a male when i am sad.  it’s like my entire body craves having testosterone in the same room.  as if my body senses my estrogen upswing and wants to counter it with the opposite sex.

i don’t have a husband to hold anymore.
i don’t have a marriage to speak of anymore.
what happened? what has just happened?!

i am so terrified.

“Marriages fail because of how right it feels to justify sinful responses to sin”

well.
hell.

i’m in a state of total confusion these days with the impending death of my own crapped-out marriage.  do i run away? do i put up with it forever? do i just sit around and just…hope ::crosses fingers:: that everything will turn out the way i originally thought that it would? or do i take charge of my life – my hapiness – and do something about it.

so many really strong arguments sway me in both directions constantly.  knocking me this way and that.  and at the end of the day, after i have resolved to stay together. to get a divorce. to try to work it out. to run like hell. to close my eyes and just sit here for 30 years and when i open them, maybe it will all go away for me so i won’t have to think.  and then back again to leaving. yes. leaving. no. staying…

i.just.don’t.know.

i’m in no state to make an obligatory “pro con” list. the bad would FAR exceed the good at this point. i don’t see any good. which is why i can easily justify treating his sin with a sinful dose of d.i.v.o.r.c.e. i have no hope.

i mean. really.  how can i possibly imagine a scenario when i will say “okay. i want to move all of my things back into one little tiny section of the closet instead of just spreading it all out really pretty.  please. come home.”

i just. wow. yeah. no. i like living alone again right now. i won’t lie.  it’s so nice. can’t we just…stay married and seperated forever? oh wait. i just got another phone call about wanting to go on a date by some other fella.

hmmmmm.

i have one opportunity knocking on my front door, while another one is rapping on my window. which one is right? well. that’s to be determined. which one do i want? oh i want the naughty one. i want the one at the window. sneaking into my house in the middle of the night (this is a metaphor. don’t worry). that’s fun.

 but then there is that ever-present gloom of “GOD WILL BE MAD KRISTA!!!!!!! RAWWWWR!!!!” that i just…i don’t want to contend with. lol. so. which is it? do you stay in a marriage to glorify God and be absolutely miserable forever? how does that actually do anything for the glory of God? or do you run in the other direction never looking back and life a fullfilled happy life?

help me justify this.

oh.my.gawd.
is this really my life? did i really wake up one day married to someone that gets sucked into one get rich quick scheme after the other with never learning the valuable lesson that pyramids and handwritten “work-from-home” ads that people stick into the muddy street corners are smart career choices?!

i mean, i kept my mouth shut when he joined the pyramid. even though at the time he would chastise me and claim it wasn’t a pyramid directly after drawing me the structure of company…that was ironically shaped JUST like a pyramid.

but after the past few months. after the past 25 days of me living at mom and dad’s and him looking for a place to stay until i ::he crosses his fingers:: ask him to come back home and give this marriage one last go. after we seperated our finances along with the rest of our lives. after he had to ask him parents to pay for his car note and his school loan and i had to ask my dad to help me with the mortgage, because i can’t make it on my own.

after he has hardly made any money in the past few months because…of his….roadblocks? because of his selfishness. his laziness? his lack of work ethic (which….come on. mine isn’t much better. it’s probably worse. but that’s the luxury of my salary-work-for-mom-and-dad-job. i can get away with doing the bare minimum and still bring home enough money to ALMOST cover the bills…)

after all of this.
the pouring out of the wedding memories?
the use of the first $100 that we had as a married couple?
the boxing up of all of his things?
the telling him i want a divorce?
after all of this…

he finally starts to tinker with looking for a job and it’s another stupid dead-end propaganda filled lie?!?!?!?!

and before i can say any of this to him (even though all of those thoughts and then some filled my head within the 3 seconds after he said it.)

he declares proudly into the phone:

“JUSSSSSSST KIDDING!!!!!!!”

::blank stare::

that’s pretty funny if i say so myself. what a relief, because…i was LITERALLY about to hang up on him and call for an appt with a lawyer to go ahead with divorce proceedings. it’s not much. this seperation is far from over, but at least there was a sense of fun in his voice. i mean, that’s something right? it’s not payment on the credit card bill, or even food on the table, but it was a smile.

and i have always tried to impress upon him when he has these ridiculous fancies of becoming rich; i don’t care about being rich. i care about being happy.
and really, at this point, i’m neither one. so if he works on one of those two goals, maybe we will end up somewhere?

at this point, i still doubt it.
but at least i am laughing.

the wind’s speed brought the waves up uncharacteristicallly high. the waves brought the surfers uncharacteristically out of the woodwork.  it was fun to be honest. hating my husband and having those boys to look at.  it’s a whole ‘nother breed of fella, and i was in awe.

while standing on the shoreline, my cousins and i had some pretty real heart to heart talks about life, love, and everything in between. nothing catastrophic. nothing cataclysmic. just three girls of different decades (teen, 20’s, 30’s) comparing the scripts of their lives. pretty interesting stuff, to say the least.

my older cousin, and her infinite wisdom, shared with me something that her counselor had taught her while attending some marital therapy not too long ago. when you get in those arguments that are so heated, so unreal, that nothing will pull you out of it, nothing will soften the blows, and everything you say is confusing and erratic, have a safe word on hand to shout that will put you both in surrender; stopping the argument.

their word? “zabralobe”.

it will never mean anything at all.
it will never be used in real conversation.
it will always end an argument.

so as i drift through life trying to figure out which way is up and which way is down, when i get so caught up in my own emotions and daily junk, hopefully i can remember the way the air felt off of the gulf of mexico blowing over the sweaty boys that were covered in muscles and testosterone, and i will forget about the crap i can’t fix right now. right here. and i will just surrender.

life has been odd the past month since i got home from my vacation. i still find myself in days of numbness and confusion and isolation. i want to be alone. i want to be alone. i want to be alone.
but he is there. and i can’t tell what to make of that right now. i can’t tell what to do with that. i have no fixes. i have no remedies.

so i can sit around and festoon in all my thoughts and feelings about the situation, or i can just let it slowly heal itself. slowly let everything work itself out the best way it can.

i have no answers.
i just have zebralobe.

i get so annoyed with myself. can’t i just be sad without it having to have a cause that incriminates me? can’t i just want to lay in bed and cry and not have it justified as “oh she is about to start”. what if something really is wrong? stupid hormones. you fail me monthly, you know. i really should give up on them. who needs them anyway?

“i swear if you blame this on my period, i will kill you” i shouted at my husband on – what was it? – friday afternoon.
“no!” he has learned from eperience, apparently. “i was just going to say that maybe you should take two prozacs today instead of one”. okay. i was wrong, he hasn’t learned, afterall.

three things you don’t say to a crying woman:
1. can i get you a tampoon?
2. take your anti-psychotic meds, honey.
3. get off of the floor of the closet. crying about being fat is NOT going to make your clothes look good on you.

you don’t say those things outright, and you don’t illude (allude?) to them.
or you will die.
at least twice.

so…he handed me a tampon, i took two prozacs, and i opted for a baggy tee shirt and loose shorts.

ta-da.

(i hate when he is right)

a year ago, or so, the ladies in my office went to a certain little italian restaurant for someone’s birthday lunch. I don’t recall who’s birth we were celebrating, or if there was a birth at all or if we were just hungry. i should make something up for entertainment value, here. um…….we were celebrating my audition for american idol being a complete success, and my upcoming fame….(is it true? is it a lie? omg! i don’t know!)

so there we were at olive garden, mom/boss and i fighting over something that i can’t recall. (i feel like i have told you all this story before, but…i can add more to the story today, so if you have already heard it, just…bare with me. i re-tell stories all the time. and each time they get a twee more accessorized, so maybe you will hear something new…)

(i am feeling very parenthetical today.) (look at all of these parenthesis (i bet Mrs Miller would be proud of my correct use of the double parenthesis (if i did it right….which i am not sure)))

so there we were fighting in the olive garden, playfully. the waitress walked up in the middle of our argument and mom points to me like a toddler and whines

“make her be nice to me! i am old enough to be her sister!”
me: “whatever, grandma”
mom: “HEY!”
waitress: “you remind me of that girl from will and grace”
me: “the drunk one?:
mom: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA”
waitress: “actually…..yes”
me: ::blank stare::

i reminded her of the alcoholic? i don’t know if i approve of this favor. in fact, i am fairly sure i disapprove entirely. especially because the physical attributes along with the character flaws in that girl are well. they are funny, i give her that. but. most girls want to grow up to be grace…or at least will (depending…). but most of us don’t think when we are young “i sure hope that i grow up to be the rich, alcoholic, lazy, drunk”. (although? the more i think about it, the more this plan is sounding appealing)

henceforth, on the handful of times we have lunched at olive garden since then, we have seen her and she always comes up to me and asks how i am and suggests that we sit in her section. and, today, we had every intention of asking her to be our waitress. as we walked into the restaurant, the guy at the front stood ready and at attention to serve us.

“BUONGIORNO!!!!”he shouts to us while waving his arm in the air like an american actor playing an italian would in a movie, quite obviously pleased with himself for speaking italian in an italian restaurant.

quickly, knowing little (or no….) italian, i had to respond….

“QUE PASO, ITALIANO!?!?!?!”i purr to him, sounding every ounce as italian as i am irish.

“oh…i don’t really speak italian….” he said. obviously defeated at my extensive knowledge in the language of love.

“oh. too bad.”i said. but? unfortunately, that wasn’t italian at all. that was spanish. (hopefully you caught on to that. he didn’t)

…there was a point to this story somewhere…but it was lost in translation.
sorry. um. que paso, americano?

i got to work at 2 on monday.
i got to work at 11 on tuesday.
i got to work at 2 today.
i am leaving today in a few minutes because i have stuff to do at home.
tomorrow? who knows. maybe i’ll do the right thing tomorrow.

i doubt it.

c has been out of town at a conference in milwaukee. i actually missed him while he was gone this time. i have never missed my husband when he is gone before. this is new for me. i picked him up from the airport today and he was standing on the curb with a little stuffed cow in his hands.

i melted.

am i 12? yes. but mostly, i melted because he looks so damn good in those chinos. i wanted to pillage him right then and there. but…i waited til i got him home. TMI!!!!!!!!!!! weeeeee.

i recently read that “a writer is someone who writes” and that even if you have nothing to say you should still be writing it down. so. here i am. writing about whatever fleating thought runs through my head.

my dog ate my shoes this morning.  i need to search online for a replacement pair as i loved those pumps. and now i hate my dog.

aaaaaaaand done.

the end.

just kidding.

but i do have to take a million B12 shots now. at first, i was scared to administer the dosage to myself, so i had the doctor that i work with do it for me. i wasn’t aware of the common belief that doctors can NOT give shots. no one told me. and my lord did he brutalize my arm! two weeks later, i still have a big ol’ bruise and a nasty knot on my delt.

looks like my husband beats me.  (that’s so funny to me. i know lish will laugh at that, too)

anyway, over the weekend, i had my mother in law – who is a PA – teach my husband how to give me the shots so that i could get them more often like i should and not have to worry about my arm looking like i am a wrestler of some sort.
that is, of course, if c is a better shot than the doc…

she had to run to her office to pick me up some needles because when i got the perscription in the first place, they forgot to give me needles.

bev: “can you get those at the drug store?”
me: “i dunno…maybe? do i have to have a script from the doc?”
bev: “i don’t know”
c: “don’t they give those out for free if you ask in the state of Texas?”
bev: “do they?”
me: “how would WE know where to get needles for free, c? and how do YOU Know so much about free needles, anyway?”

(those of you that know us, will find that funny)

anyway, i’ve never been one to fear needles. at all. i always watch in total fascination, but that was before i watched my husband learn to give a shot. THAT made me queasy.

so when it came time for his first dose….we were both equally nervous.
he was nervous he was going to kill me.
and i was nervouse that he was going to kill me.

i braced myself  for the blow after i did the little flicking thing to get the air bubble out and handed the needle to c.  i did the little shake thing to kind of relax myself as he pulled his arm back to go in for the landing….

3….2….1….

“WAIT!!!!!!” i said.
“AAAAAAAH WHAT?!?!” he said

“i need to sit down.”

so i ran over to the bar stool and sat down.
took a deep breath.
“OK”
“OK”
he took a deep breathe.
pulled back his arm like he was going to punch me with the needle.

(what am i? made out of concrete?!?! it’s skin. just a little jab not a stab!)

“WAIT!!” i said
“AAHHHHHHH WHAT?!?!” he said.
“hang on”

i stood up and did some jumping jacks.
“ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ok”
“OK!”
he took a deep breath. pulled back his arm again.
“WAIT!” he said.
“WHAT?!?!?!” i said.
“hang on”

this time he had to do the jumping jacks.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH OK”
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH OK”

i sat back down.
he took a deep breath.
i took a deep breath.

3…….2………1……..

::ting::

and that was it. it was in. he didnt’ hurt me. that’s half the battle.
“remember, your mom said to push the shot in slowly.”
“oh yeah. i almost forgot”

and he started pushing. i think. i mean. if you can measure in micromilliliters he was slowly pushing. but really i think he was hoping that i would receive the vitamins through osmosis. or that my blood would start pumping through the needle and that i would get the meds that way.

either way, it took FOREVER.

“dude. seriously? this is taking forever”
“you said slow!”
and i looked to see his hands completely. and totally. shivering.
and then before i could even say anything. before half of the syringe was emptied out, he pulled the needle out of my arm with an “oops”.

oh god.
all over again really?

when we finally finished, both of us had to jump up and down and shake out the tension some more.
but….no bruise.
no knots.

no pain.