Weekend recap, only a few days after the fact.

So, let’s see…my aunt had her baby on Saturday. She called me at 10 am to let me know that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to make it to the baby shower, as she’d just been admitted to the hospital. Gee, you think? So, I squealed, told her to get that baby born already and to have her husband keep us all posted. It’s a boy, he’s very cute and I already tried to steal him as my “practice baby.” No dice.

The baby shower was just delightful. The house was stuffed to the gills with people and food, which is my favorite way to do things. Food was fabulous, I made a massive quantity of guacamole, there were many nibbly Mexican food things, a DELICIOUS salad and a tasty ice cream cake. Jen took some wonderful pictures of everyone, which if she feels like sharing, I’ll let her post the link in a comment.
Everyone was amazingly generous and we now have more baby stuff than I can wrap my brain around. Then I got to spend the rest of the weekend hanging out with my mama. Now, if only every weekend could be so nice.

Of course Xtian’s friends proved, once again, that they suck. After telling Xtian that they’d be carpooling and caravaning down for the party, they called Friday night to offer half-assed excuses as to why they wouldn’t make it. (For further evidence see: the complete lack of a bachelor party for Xtian when we got married, and the threat of not coming to our wedding since it was inconveniently dated what with their “Community theater” obligations. Fucking asswads.) I don’t know why I ever expect them to show any amount of concern or caring for Xtian, but I do know that it hurts Xtian every time, and it makes me want to choke them all.

But in spite of his friends’ being fucktards, Xtian had a nice time mingling with my family and friends. I just wish SOMEONE from Xtian’s life would be supportive of him. I feel badly that he’s always surrounded by my folks, and is left hanging by his own. He’s just too wonderful and deserves better than he gets.

OH! And while we’re on the topic of people hurting and letting Xtian down, let’s add another installment of Xtian’s Batshit Insane Mother Does Weird Stuff!

I got home from work on Friday and found one envelope addressed to Xtian, our unborn kid and me. A large manila envelope was addressed solely to Xtian. Both had a return address from a law office in Beverly Hills. One look and I knew they were from my MIL. (Remember the last we heard from her was a three-page letter telling Xtian what a disappointment of a son he was and urging him to break up with me. Complete silence since then).

Now, I had decided previously to return all mail and packages to her unopened, as I’d like to discourage her from contacting us at all. But, it was from a law office, and part of me hoped she was disowning us, legally. And I’m not the least bit ashamed to say that the thought warmed my soul. So, I thought we should probably open them.

Xtian asked that I wait for him to come home before I opened them and so I did. And I’ll be damned if after all that buildup, it was standard MIL material. The first envelope (addressed to Xtian, myself, and an unborn fetus) contained about 30 pages of photocopied text, most of it a bio for the lawyer that she apparently now works for (although, that's just an assumption. No explanation was actually included). The other envelope contained a press kit for the same lawyer. And one handwritten note telling Xtian that there was no need to make arrangements for Xtian’s brother to come and visit, as, and here I will directly quote, “our van will be arriving soon and we’ll both come for a visit.”

What?

So, apparently she got word that Xtian’s been talking to his brother about school schedules so that the brother can come meet his new niece or nephew on a school break. Apparently MIL forgot that she hereby decreed that Xtian would not be able to see his brother until Xtian got rid of the “negative influence” in his life. (That would be me.)

Now, I don’t actually think she’ll ever make it up to visit as it took a lot of financial assistance and negotiation to get her up for her son’s wedding, and this time, no one’s offering anything of the sort.

But part of me almost wants her to just so I can have the petty satisfaction of telling her she’s not welcomed in my home, and that the police will be called if she doesn’t remove herself from the premises before slamming the door in her face.
That, or beating her over the head with a crow bar until I’m no longer angry. You know, whatever strikes my fancy at the moment.

Now I regret opening the damned mail in the first place and should have just stuck with my plan to return everything to her unopened. Damn my morbid curiosity!

So, yeah. That’s where it all stands now. Good weekend, love my mama, hate Xtian’s friends, MIL: Still fucking nuts. Huzzah.

Whatever and ever.

So, here we are. It’s Friday. About freakin’ time, is all I have to say about it. Since Monday is a holiday at my work, all of the coworkers I like have taken today off. I knew today was going to be boring, but wasn’t aware that my first order of business when arriving would be to BECOME COMPLETELY INFURIATED!

I can’t go into too many details, but there’s an issue with an employee I supervise, who is bored, agitated, and half of his job responsibilities have gone away. He’s not able to do other kinds of work, so after weeks/months of finding tasks to take up his time, we’d determined that updating his job description was in order. This did include a 5-hour/week change in his scheduled hours. Still, we were within all legal/contractual bounds.

A meeting was scheduled to finalize this and some other issues. And I walked in this morning to an email from my VP completely reneging on every change we’d agreed to. I mean, I knew she didn’t have a spine, and frankly, I was surprised at how far this was allowed to go. But, it’s still irritating to have her turn tail and run.

So, it’s official, every single time I’ve attempted to make a change to any aspect of this organization (from a letterhead design, to attempting a cooperative maternity leave plan) I’ve been shut down. Complete fucking waste of energy. So, I’m out. I no longer will try. I will fill my chair like a good houseplant, and do only the bare minimum expected from me. God, I love feeling absolutely useless!

In other news, this weekend is the baby shower! I’m so looking forward to my home being overrun with family and friends, giggling and being silly like we do. Then Xtian’s heading out of town, and my mama will be staying with me. Hurray for Mama Time!

My big girl kitty is a mess these days, so I finally made a vet appointment for her. She has nasty skin sores that I thought were just from overgrooming. Then I thought they were a reaction to something. But, they are getting worse, and she’s getting anti-social and hiding under the bed for most of the days. So, clearly, after making the appointment, I had to get myself all worked up convinced that the vet was going to put my kitty to sleep. Or, even worse, tell me that the treatment to fix her is going to cost $5,000 or we could just put her down, and leave me with that decision. Which would probably kill me.
She’s not that old, she’s only 5! Wah!

But then this morning, I’m back to “it’s nothing, and the vet is going to tell me she’s just a neurotic nutbag.” Who the hell knows?

Right, time to heat up my bagel and avoid my coworkers!

That's SO Bay Area.

Pride was just glorious. A few of my favorite highlights:
The dude wearing a top hat and roller skates. And nothing else. No, he was not part of the parade, just a random spectator. He was in good nude company. (And I’m asking this question of everyone: when someone shows up nude to an event like this, assuming they don’t live in the exact neighborhood: do these people travel in the nude or do they wear clothes and find somewhere to stash them once they arrive? Because, I’ve yet to see someone nude on BART or Muni, but, where are they stashing the clothes? Seriously, these are the thoughts that keep me up at night.)

In the gay families group, two men with their son in a stroller, carrying a sign reading, “We’ll love our son, even if he’s straight.” I was kind of in love with this family.

The LGBT Police officers and sheriffs and their partners. Really, in what other city do cops get to be out as openly as here?

One of the groups marching was celebrating their long term partners, while protesting their non-recognized legal status. Most were holding signs with, “Bill and Steve, 9 years” and “Tammy and Corinne together for 24 years.” But the one that got me the most was an older gentleman, riding the float with a sign reading, “Bill and Marvin: 51 years. Widower denied.” That was when I cried. Well, one of the times I cried.


As Xtian and I came out of the BART station at Civic Center, a female Sheriff’s Deputy was patrolling the area. Two men holding hands stopped her, and thanked her for being there on Pride. She turned to them and said, “Thank you for letting me part of this.” And I cried some more.

I forgot my camera, but whatever. We’ve all seen the crazy pictures of Queens and Kings, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, the people wearing nothing but balloons, the Dykes on Bikes etc. The stuff that killed me was the quiet moments that aren’t in the photo galleries. The sweet young men in front of us who were at Pride for the first time. The families getting some acceptance and validation by the cheering crowds.

I just love Pride, and it makes me cry every year. I think it’s impossible to be there and think these people are wrong in their love and their lives. It’s just overwhelming in happiness, joy and relief at being completely in the open for one day. It reminded me why I wanted to live and raise children in the Bay Area.

Of course there were the Gay-Bashers quietly holding their signs, “Jesus Loves You! But he hates your lifestyle” type shit. And frankly, they enraged me so much, Xtian pulled me out of the area. You know, I don’t show up to their KKK rallies telling them they’re assholes.
But I felt they were answered back beautifully by the Gay Christian Church group carrying signs saying, “Jesus DOES Love Me, Just The Way I Am.” And while I’m not a Christian or a religious person, it was beautiful watching people reclaiming religion from hate-spewing jerkoffs.

That’s all I’ve got today. I’m tired. And ready to go home.

Verdict: Fun (oh that was awful...Just awful)

Ah, the weekend. Where have you gone? So, no on the jury duty, which is pretty sweet (although, a month of still getting paid, and being able to show up late, hungover and in only moderately clean clothing does have a certain appeal…). And, they plead out before we even got to jury selection, so I didn’t even have any awesome Jack McCoy questioning a juror’s lifestyle/personal beliefs moments. Which is sad.

However, what WASN’T sad? The birthday party. As per usual on a party day, I forgot to eat until well after the party was underway, started drinking while cooking (at *ahem* 3 pm), and was a little too tipsy to do my own hair when it became time to get ready. I ROCK!

But, in a few bullet points:

• Drinking Jenga is the greatest game ever.
  
• Boys whom I’ve just met, yet in no way mind being called “Fluffy” all night are pretty fucking cool
  
• Pajama parties for adults: best idea ever. I’m never attending a party again if I can’t wear my jammies.
  
• At least one breast was autographed, possibly three…memory is a touch fuzzy. (And there’s only photographic proof of ONE autographed tit, so there’s that).
  
• We now have more alcohol in our home than any one person could consume in a year. Luckily, three people live in my home, and if we include cats (and with their levels of stress, tell me they COULDN’T use a drink) we’re up to six. So, I’m saying, give us a couple weeks. Or, till the end of the Superbowl. Whatever.

The damper on the weekend was having to get up at 8 am the morning after the party. Sitting through someone else’s church while hungover and annoyed is probably what hell would be for me. Even better yet, having to sit through a sermon that had to have been sponsored by the “People Against PETA” campaign, that in NO WAY followed it’s own logic (it’s own flawed logic I might add). Look, if you’re trying to prove something logically, and are basing it on flawed documents, translations etc and your argument STILL doesn’t follow, just abandon that entire way of thinking.

At least the Mormons don’t even bother with logic. They know that their beliefs don’t stand up to critical thinking, so they just go along with it and scream “FAITH” whenever you question. Which is somehow less annoying… interesting.

But, yeah, I got suckered into going to church again. So, we’re up to….3 times in the last five years? Better be careful, or they’ll make a Christian of me yet. *shudder*

Right, back to editing legal copy for the ninth time today….

You're a bitch, but I love you anyway - Xtian's mantra

Either the plague is nearly upon me, or I need about 15 hours of sleep a night. Me = Tired. And achy. And bitchy (your honor, I’d like to submit into evidence “People’s Exhibit 2.7: Last night”). You ever have those days where you can hear and see yourself being a bitch, but are powerless to stop it? Yeah, me too. Luckily 20 minutes on the couch with a little kitty and a little Captain really did quite a bit to improve my mood.

My favorite part of being a completely unreasonable bitch is watching Xtian attempt to navigate the conversation without being obliterated by a death stare or verbal assault. I’m pretty sure I completely lost my shit over a pair of socks that weren’t mine he attempted to put in my drawer. (I’d like to reiterate that he married me WILLINGLY.) Every time I ask a question, his eyes get big, and his mouth starts moving without any sound and you can actually see every brain particle searching desperately for a way to answer in a way that I can’t possibly use against him. Oh, silly, silly naïve Xtian. I can use anything anyone says against them.

~~~

And I’d like to offer my apologies to anyone offended by my post yesterday. Generally, I forget how public this medium is, and often I don’t express myself all that well. My writing here is of a self-exploratory nature. Mostly, I know that religious folks are just doing their things and don’t mean any harm. I was trying to figure out why I get so defensive over what I perceive to be judgments. In my head I know that we’re all doing the best we can with what we’ve got, and very few people in the world actually aim to hurt others. But sometimes my brain forgets to communicate with the rest of me.

~~

Plans for the ThreeWay Bday GrownFolks SleepOver Extravaganza are underway. Jen, Xtian and my birthdays all fall within a week of each other. So, we’ve decided to throw one big giant sleepover. There will be food. There will be booze. There will be board games; cheesy movies and hopefully someone’s underpants end up in the freezer. There will be at least 4 hours of insufferably obnoxious Coley in Planning Mode. (Anyone who’s seen this in action can attest to how ridiculous I get while planning an event. Why do I feel the need to sterilize the bathroom tiles underneath the cabinets AND bleach the grout in the kitchen? Your guess is as good as mine.)
I haven’t thrown myself a birthday party in probably… 10 years. In fact, I’m pretty certain my last birthday party was when I was in elementary school. Yikes. The funny thing is, I LOVE to throw parties. I like to surprise people, and since I don’t do religion, I tend to treat birthdays like a holy day. You get at least a full week of getting everything you want, and you should be Queen/King for as long as you can get away with it. Birthdays are a full on celebration of the person’s fabulosity.

And since there are three of us celebrating that day, I expect three times the fabulous, and at least quadruple the Diva-ness. Hopefully, I’ll actually remember to take pictures this time. (Blackmail is always an excellent way to deal with the post-holiday Blahs.)