Today, like every other day, I start out with my usual routine: Wake up from a crappy night's sleep, check my email, make coffee, drink said coffee on the balcony while having a smoke, tell Tinkerbelle (my English Bulldog) 17 times "For Pete's Sakes, Tink! Give mommy one minute! Scratching at the door will not make me feed you any faster.", feed Tink, take her downstairs to do her business, fantasize about having a yard again, curse my late husband for leaving me with nothing - including a yard, tear up thinking about all the stress in my life, scold Tink to "stop eating shit off the ground!" and to "just poop, its not social hour!", go back inside, continue the job search, get discouraged about the lack of jobs I'm qualified for, fantasize about having a job, start sobbing because I don't have a job, dick around on Facebook, Widow chat, or Gmail for the rest of the day.
That's been my life since May. Almost 3 months of this shit is getting old. I'm a smart, beautiful, talented, hard working, loyal, under & over qualified at the same time, graduate degree holding, 30 year old, loser. Not a day goes by that I don't question why I'm still here on earth. What purpose do I serve being here, doing see previous paragraph every day, freaking out about my credit card bill cuz I have been living off it, trying to decide if I want my last $60 to go towards Tink's food, or my medicine? Is it a lesson I'm not learning? Is my life's purpose to actually live out of my car? Fat chance, its like 200+ degrees here in hell, err I mean Phoenix. Or not eat for a few days? I mean Ghandi went on a hunger strike, but that was intentional and for a purpose. I have neither the intension of not eating nor a purpose for doing so.
I guess at this point, I just give up. The universe is very well aware of my wishes, and needs. Getting angry about it doesn't solve anything. Praying about it doesn't solve anything, Crying about it doesn't solve anything. Those are pretty much all I can do at this point, and if they don't help, why waste the energy?
Anyone got a crystal ball I can borrow?
Friday, August 26, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
A Soldier's Care Package From An Angel (that'd be me)
I know, I know. That voice in my head is saying what you are thinking ... Nikki, go to bed!! Its 2 AM! But I had a spark of inspiration and I just had to blog. Tee hee, giggle giggle! Blog. <dodges dirty looks I know Kane is sending my way right now>
Set the way back machine to some time in late June 2011. Sitting, feeling sorry for myself, I turn on the TV. Of course, the default channel is on A&E (LOVE that channel!) and I start watching my secret obsession, Gene Simmon's Family Jewels. Now, I am sooo not a reality TV show person. In fact, I have my nasty gram ready to send to TruTV (F.K.A. Court TV) for getting rid of the awesome shows like Forensic Files, North Mission Road, & Body of Evidence. Only to replace them with their "actuality" shows of Operation Repo - FYI, it says in the credits the stories are 'reinacted', so much for "actuality" - something about oil drillers, and a lame ass show about stupid criminals ... EPIC TV PROGRAMMING FAIL!!! So, A&E has become my new fav channel because they still have The First 48! W0ot! How 'bout them apples, bitches!?!?!?!
NE wayz, the episode is where Gene and Shannon go to Ft. Hood. It had me bawling by the end. Gut wrenching sobs, that are only surpassed by the death of my husband. All these men and women who put their lives on this line (and on hold) for me, you, us. So we can sleep at night, complain about the government, pray to our God - or a carboard cut out, or inatimant object, or whatever -, and say prettymuch anything we want in media, print, and the inter webs. Yet here, some of these men and women didn't have people wishing them good bye, safe journey, or saying I will see you when you get home. Can you believe that??? All they do for us, and not one person there to send them off. Sad, really.
It also made me think of a story Kane told me. He was always so so proud of our military. When he had to go to Malaysia for work for a month, he landed back on U.S. soil at LAX. He went out for a smoke and saw a man in uniform. He walked up to the man and asked if he could shake his hand. The man in uniform was dumbfounded, and Kane told him: "I have just been in Malaysia for the last month. The first thing I did when I landed here was kiss the ground. You are the reason I am so proud of living in America. Thank you!" And the soldier shook his hand.
After composing myself that night, I had an apostrophe - lightning struck my brain - and yea, it hurt a little. I thought there has to be something I can do. Even if its something little, to let our heros know I care, and how proud I am of them. I hit the usual website, Google, and type-itty, type, type, typed, "sending letters & military". So many results - in true Google fashon <rolls eyes>. I thought, how in the world am I going to know which one is legit? So, a quick prayer to my angels to guide me to the right website... viola! Soldier's Angels 2nd site down.
As I read the information, I decided this is the site I asked for. I knew I would not be able to adopt a soldier - my widdah brain would surely forget to send the required once a month care package, and I knew my Prada wallet couldn't take the extra expense *SIDENOTE: Said Prada wallet was purchased as a gift to me in 2009 for graduating with a M.S. - don't be a hater!). But, I could write letters, for the low low price of only $0.42 per letter (plus the cost of paper, envelops, and writing utensils)!!! I'm there! As I am registering for the opportunity to write letters, I see their slogan "May no soldier go unloved" And I lost it again. To think, all these men an women, worlds away from home, and all they would like is a letter to know that someone cares. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. I finished the registration, and noticed a check box for sending a one time care package to a soldier. I thought, what the hell? I could do that! I'm then emailed the name, and address of a soldier and off I go.
I hit the store and think of things someone away from home would like. Candy, check. Drink mixes in 3 varieties, check. Granola Bars, Cup o' Noodles, and Pop-Tarts, check check check. Oh, and lets not forget the powerded coffee mix :) I wrote up a nice little note to send to my soldier, telling him how proud I was of our fine military folks, a little about me, what I like to do, that Tinkerbelle sends her sloppy, wet puppy kisses, and my status as widow. I ended the letter with love and blessings. Now, off to the post office.
I stood in line at the post office for 30 minutes. Luckily, the radio they had streaming through the speakers was playing good tunes. Of course, I HAD to hum along, and dance a little. Duh! I was in line, had to do something to keep my sanity! The nice gentle man behind me comments on the fact that young people (that would be me) likes the oldies but goodies. Pfft! I tell him, I grew up on this music, besides, its SANTANA!! How could you not like it? Then the gentleman behind him comments about the music, too. Somehow, we got on the topic of how he was a retired Miami PD detective, and some of the crazy shit he saw during that time. Ok, I'm totally a sucker for cop stories so I listen intently, wide eyed and in awe. Oh, I'm next!
I walk up to the counter, and of course ... I have the wrong form filled out, Grr! Luckily, the man lets me step to the other counter to fill the correct form out, and when I am done, I can go back to his counter and he will finish helping. I fill out the form, and a nice lady comes up - must have been her counter - and starts talking to me. She said she would help me, looks at the package and sees I'm mailing it to a soldier. I tell her what I'm doing and who I am associated with. She is so excited that I'm there. She tells me about the bigger boxes that will ship more stuff, and informs me about the discount I can get with said bigger box because its a military address. Ccheck out complete and I'm on my happy, little way.
So, today I check my mail. Doing my usual prayer that only happy things are in the little, square box that normally is just a bringer of bad news, and I see a letter. Its from my soldier!! OMG!! He actually wrote back!!!! I totally wasn't expecting to hear from him.
He told me how much he enjoyed the treats, that he shared them with his buddies, he told me where he was from, where he is at, thanked Tinkerbelle for the sloppy, wet puppy kisses, and told me how sorry he was that I am a widow.
I can see Kane smiling down at me right now. So proud of his baby!
In closing, I would like to thank the post office for not fucking up this time by 1.) actually delivering the package like its supposed to be delivered, 2.) in a timely manner, and 3.) for allowing the letter from my soldier to be delivered to me without me having to stand in line again, or call and yell at them about WTF is my mail?!?!? ... 3 times.
Set the way back machine to some time in late June 2011. Sitting, feeling sorry for myself, I turn on the TV. Of course, the default channel is on A&E (LOVE that channel!) and I start watching my secret obsession, Gene Simmon's Family Jewels. Now, I am sooo not a reality TV show person. In fact, I have my nasty gram ready to send to TruTV (F.K.A. Court TV) for getting rid of the awesome shows like Forensic Files, North Mission Road, & Body of Evidence. Only to replace them with their "actuality" shows of Operation Repo - FYI, it says in the credits the stories are 'reinacted', so much for "actuality" - something about oil drillers, and a lame ass show about stupid criminals ... EPIC TV PROGRAMMING FAIL!!! So, A&E has become my new fav channel because they still have The First 48! W0ot! How 'bout them apples, bitches!?!?!?!
NE wayz, the episode is where Gene and Shannon go to Ft. Hood. It had me bawling by the end. Gut wrenching sobs, that are only surpassed by the death of my husband. All these men and women who put their lives on this line (and on hold) for me, you, us. So we can sleep at night, complain about the government, pray to our God - or a carboard cut out, or inatimant object, or whatever -, and say prettymuch anything we want in media, print, and the inter webs. Yet here, some of these men and women didn't have people wishing them good bye, safe journey, or saying I will see you when you get home. Can you believe that??? All they do for us, and not one person there to send them off. Sad, really.
It also made me think of a story Kane told me. He was always so so proud of our military. When he had to go to Malaysia for work for a month, he landed back on U.S. soil at LAX. He went out for a smoke and saw a man in uniform. He walked up to the man and asked if he could shake his hand. The man in uniform was dumbfounded, and Kane told him: "I have just been in Malaysia for the last month. The first thing I did when I landed here was kiss the ground. You are the reason I am so proud of living in America. Thank you!" And the soldier shook his hand.
After composing myself that night, I had an apostrophe - lightning struck my brain - and yea, it hurt a little. I thought there has to be something I can do. Even if its something little, to let our heros know I care, and how proud I am of them. I hit the usual website, Google, and type-itty, type, type, typed, "sending letters & military". So many results - in true Google fashon <rolls eyes>. I thought, how in the world am I going to know which one is legit? So, a quick prayer to my angels to guide me to the right website... viola! Soldier's Angels 2nd site down.
As I read the information, I decided this is the site I asked for. I knew I would not be able to adopt a soldier - my widdah brain would surely forget to send the required once a month care package, and I knew my Prada wallet couldn't take the extra expense *SIDENOTE: Said Prada wallet was purchased as a gift to me in 2009 for graduating with a M.S. - don't be a hater!). But, I could write letters, for the low low price of only $0.42 per letter (plus the cost of paper, envelops, and writing utensils)!!! I'm there! As I am registering for the opportunity to write letters, I see their slogan "May no soldier go unloved" And I lost it again. To think, all these men an women, worlds away from home, and all they would like is a letter to know that someone cares. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. I finished the registration, and noticed a check box for sending a one time care package to a soldier. I thought, what the hell? I could do that! I'm then emailed the name, and address of a soldier and off I go.
I hit the store and think of things someone away from home would like. Candy, check. Drink mixes in 3 varieties, check. Granola Bars, Cup o' Noodles, and Pop-Tarts, check check check. Oh, and lets not forget the powerded coffee mix :) I wrote up a nice little note to send to my soldier, telling him how proud I was of our fine military folks, a little about me, what I like to do, that Tinkerbelle sends her sloppy, wet puppy kisses, and my status as widow. I ended the letter with love and blessings. Now, off to the post office.
I stood in line at the post office for 30 minutes. Luckily, the radio they had streaming through the speakers was playing good tunes. Of course, I HAD to hum along, and dance a little. Duh! I was in line, had to do something to keep my sanity! The nice gentle man behind me comments on the fact that young people (that would be me) likes the oldies but goodies. Pfft! I tell him, I grew up on this music, besides, its SANTANA!! How could you not like it? Then the gentleman behind him comments about the music, too. Somehow, we got on the topic of how he was a retired Miami PD detective, and some of the crazy shit he saw during that time. Ok, I'm totally a sucker for cop stories so I listen intently, wide eyed and in awe. Oh, I'm next!
I walk up to the counter, and of course ... I have the wrong form filled out, Grr! Luckily, the man lets me step to the other counter to fill the correct form out, and when I am done, I can go back to his counter and he will finish helping. I fill out the form, and a nice lady comes up - must have been her counter - and starts talking to me. She said she would help me, looks at the package and sees I'm mailing it to a soldier. I tell her what I'm doing and who I am associated with. She is so excited that I'm there. She tells me about the bigger boxes that will ship more stuff, and informs me about the discount I can get with said bigger box because its a military address. Ccheck out complete and I'm on my happy, little way.
So, today I check my mail. Doing my usual prayer that only happy things are in the little, square box that normally is just a bringer of bad news, and I see a letter. Its from my soldier!! OMG!! He actually wrote back!!!! I totally wasn't expecting to hear from him.
He told me how much he enjoyed the treats, that he shared them with his buddies, he told me where he was from, where he is at, thanked Tinkerbelle for the sloppy, wet puppy kisses, and told me how sorry he was that I am a widow.
I can see Kane smiling down at me right now. So proud of his baby!
In closing, I would like to thank the post office for not fucking up this time by 1.) actually delivering the package like its supposed to be delivered, 2.) in a timely manner, and 3.) for allowing the letter from my soldier to be delivered to me without me having to stand in line again, or call and yell at them about WTF is my mail?!?!? ... 3 times.
Friday, August 19, 2011
How I came to be a widow
Some of you may be wondering why I am a widow (the hottie part I leave up to my impeccable beauty routines, and good genes). The usual smart ass answer I give to shut stupid people up and make them go away is this:
"Well, I was happily married, and then my wonderful husband died on me, so that makes me a widow."
Leaves them speachless everytime!! WIN!!!
In all reality, he had a severe heart attack and died instantly. Fortunately, I was not home when this devastating, life changing event took place. I was in the hospital recovering from major surgery.
The last time I remember seeing him was Saturday night (he died the next morning). He was leaving the hospital, kissed me on the forehead, and told me he loved me.
Normally, I am all woo hoo and shit about pain killers, but that was the one time I wish I wasn't higher then a motherfuckin' kite. Maybe I could have remembered talking to him, or asked him to stay the night, or felt his arms around me one more time. Of course, don't we all wish we had just one more moment with our late spouse? And let's not forget about the coulda, shoulda, wouldas ... Those little bastarts will eat you up inside!
So, before I get angry again, and then cry my sexy, little eyes out, I'll leave you with this. One of my favorite pictures of my hot, sexy, stud muffin, being, well, a hot, sexy, stud muffin - smart ass style ...
Yes, his middle finger is up and his tongue is sticking out. Standard pose for him when a camera is involved
"Well, I was happily married, and then my wonderful husband died on me, so that makes me a widow."
Leaves them speachless everytime!! WIN!!!
In all reality, he had a severe heart attack and died instantly. Fortunately, I was not home when this devastating, life changing event took place. I was in the hospital recovering from major surgery.
The last time I remember seeing him was Saturday night (he died the next morning). He was leaving the hospital, kissed me on the forehead, and told me he loved me.
Normally, I am all woo hoo and shit about pain killers, but that was the one time I wish I wasn't higher then a motherfuckin' kite. Maybe I could have remembered talking to him, or asked him to stay the night, or felt his arms around me one more time. Of course, don't we all wish we had just one more moment with our late spouse? And let's not forget about the coulda, shoulda, wouldas ... Those little bastarts will eat you up inside!
So, before I get angry again, and then cry my sexy, little eyes out, I'll leave you with this. One of my favorite pictures of my hot, sexy, stud muffin, being, well, a hot, sexy, stud muffin - smart ass style ...
Yes, his middle finger is up and his tongue is sticking out. Standard pose for him when a camera is involved
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The Beginning: A point in Time and Space, on this dimension, in which I control the vertical and horizontal, where my blogging starts
As I type this first entry, I can't help but think how my late husband would be completely unamused at my newest interest: blogging.
I can hear him right now:
Him: Bloggers are for people who don't have friends and think talking to them selves is a form of insanity
Me: I have tons of friends, and I have no qualms about talking - and answering - myself
Him: People blog because they were kicked off of Facebook
Me: Umm, I'm still in good standing with them, and besides I think you only get kicked off for being a repeat offender of posting nude pictures, and/or harassing people. I do neither of those two things.
And my all time favorite ...
Him: People who tweet are twits
Me: I'm not blogging on twitter, bitch!!
So, since I have not been able to argue with him for over 2 years, I cordially (and gracefully) stick out my tongue and say "naw-y, naw-y, naw-y, I am blogging". Oh, and I got the last word. How 'bout them apples??
So, why The Widowed Hottie? Several reasons. Most important, duh, I'm a hottie, and, oh yea, I'm a widow. My late husband was so proud of the fact that I was his wife. If anyone mentioned my picture on his desk and did the typical eyes bulge, damn, she fine!, or other remarks guys do when they see a hottie in a photo, his standard response? "Yea, I hit that" God, I miss him so much!!! So how better to deal with this new title I have to carry, then with comforting things from my past thrown in to make me feel better? The Widowed Hottie was born. And also, this removes any stereotypical thoughts most people have about widows being "old & crappy". Not so much. I know several beautiful women who break the mold for this title. Love to my sistas'!
Widowhood has been a journey; one I would not wish on my worst enemy ... well, I have known some pretty shitty people ... naw Karma will take care of them, I needn't ... but for some reason I was selected to undergo this process - possibly for street creds in heaven? - I have no idea, but there is a reason for everything and though I may not understand the reason behind this travesty that was, is, and will be my life from now on, I know one day I will. Like when I die and have a chance to have a little chat with the big man upstairs ... boy, am I ripping him a new one for this ...
Oh, and I should probably add in my standard disclaimer (yea, I'll update my bio too with it).
1.) I could make a sailor blush with my colorful language
2.) I am a widow, I don't give a shit who I piss off or offend by my typing in this blog
3.) If you're offended, sorry, my posts are not created for you, they are for me. They do not orbit you, they orbit me. That said, to directly single you out to offend/piss off - I don't have time for that kind of individual attention so don't feel special
4.) I make up words
5.) Spelling is not my strong point. So no comments from the peanut gallery about my handicap
I can hear him right now:
Him: Bloggers are for people who don't have friends and think talking to them selves is a form of insanity
Me: I have tons of friends, and I have no qualms about talking - and answering - myself
Him: People blog because they were kicked off of Facebook
Me: Umm, I'm still in good standing with them, and besides I think you only get kicked off for being a repeat offender of posting nude pictures, and/or harassing people. I do neither of those two things.
And my all time favorite ...
Him: People who tweet are twits
Me: I'm not blogging on twitter, bitch!!
So, since I have not been able to argue with him for over 2 years, I cordially (and gracefully) stick out my tongue and say "naw-y, naw-y, naw-y, I am blogging". Oh, and I got the last word. How 'bout them apples??
So, why The Widowed Hottie? Several reasons. Most important, duh, I'm a hottie, and, oh yea, I'm a widow. My late husband was so proud of the fact that I was his wife. If anyone mentioned my picture on his desk and did the typical eyes bulge, damn, she fine!, or other remarks guys do when they see a hottie in a photo, his standard response? "Yea, I hit that" God, I miss him so much!!! So how better to deal with this new title I have to carry, then with comforting things from my past thrown in to make me feel better? The Widowed Hottie was born. And also, this removes any stereotypical thoughts most people have about widows being "old & crappy". Not so much. I know several beautiful women who break the mold for this title. Love to my sistas'!
Widowhood has been a journey; one I would not wish on my worst enemy ... well, I have known some pretty shitty people ... naw Karma will take care of them, I needn't ... but for some reason I was selected to undergo this process - possibly for street creds in heaven? - I have no idea, but there is a reason for everything and though I may not understand the reason behind this travesty that was, is, and will be my life from now on, I know one day I will. Like when I die and have a chance to have a little chat with the big man upstairs ... boy, am I ripping him a new one for this ...
Oh, and I should probably add in my standard disclaimer (yea, I'll update my bio too with it).
1.) I could make a sailor blush with my colorful language
2.) I am a widow, I don't give a shit who I piss off or offend by my typing in this blog
3.) If you're offended, sorry, my posts are not created for you, they are for me. They do not orbit you, they orbit me. That said, to directly single you out to offend/piss off - I don't have time for that kind of individual attention so don't feel special
4.) I make up words
5.) Spelling is not my strong point. So no comments from the peanut gallery about my handicap
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