Maybe I should let my days play out before I try writing a blog entry, but in any case here's the rest from yesterday...

Mr. Future Millionaire called me at five oclock but I was at my mom's and left me a pathetic, whiny, desperate message, wanting to see me. I called him back at like seven and left a message. He calls me back (our usual game of phone tag) and wants to know hwat I, Hott Stuff Baby and Miss.Woo woo are doing for the night.

I don't know why?

"Well you call Miss. Woo woo and I'll call Hott Stuff and you find out what we're doing tonight..."

Ok fine... So Woowoo worked until 8 and wasn't prepared to hang out until 9:30. When I told Millionaire about this he was fine with it but he said that he would call me at 9;20 to make sure that I called Woowoo in time. I resigned to take a nap (All these late nights and excitement are killing me...) and who calls and wakes me up a half an hour early? Of course, I can't be normal and just ignore his call I have to answer and see what he wants and invite him to come over and hang out until I hear from Woowoo... Which meant that I had to clean my room, doo my hair, change my outfit 8 times, feel how warm it was outside, make sure my room smelled good, Make sure I smelled good... The list seemed endless and I had approximatly 28 and a half minutes to do all of this before he showed up on my doorstep... But he came and we went and it was fun (I a never again playing Maonopoly with a future millionaire...) And we left Woo woo's house at, oh yes, one am in the friggin morning. Truthfully I was too tired to drive and soooo thankful that the deal involved his driving us around, but just as I htought that and reclined my chair to sleep on the car ride home he turns to me, yawns and says "I'm too tired to drive you home, why don't you just come and spend the night?"

...

While that was a genius idea at the moment, I knew "ca va mal finir" So I just told him "no thanks, I don't think your mom would like too much to come down her stairs at 8 in the morning and find me sleeping on her designer couch..." And he just answered, "You know that's not true... if you slept on the couch my mom would probably yell at me for not offering you Aaron's room..." While this is completly true in the tired puppy loving man's mind, in actual practice I can bet things would have played out much differently had Mr.Future MIllionaires mom discovered me on her designer couch sleeping at eight in the morning. I suppose it would have gone somehting like this:

"WHAT IN THE -PROFANITY PROFANITY- IS GOING ON HERE!? WEEZY GET YOUR SORRY -PROFANE- OFF OF MY -PROFANITY- COUCH AND GET THE -PROFANE- OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU -PROFANITY, FEMALE DOG PROFANITY- RIGHT NOW!! AND TAKE YOUR -PROFANITY- GLASSES WITH YOU!!!"

The above is a specified general reaction of any mom to any over night girlfriend stay of which they are uninformed.

TRUST ME.

Then I would have been stranded at Mr. MIllionaires house in the middle of Bum Essex with no way home and undoubtably broken glasses.

Thank goodness I can think on my tired toes. No matter how much I might have liked to accept his offer...

So I have some good news.. and I have some bad news...

Bad news, I had that dream again last night. The dream where my grandmother is still alive but she is in perilous danger. Actually, it was a bit different this time. This time, she was very much alive and we were talking on the phone and I could drive over to seeher if I wanted. She reprimanded me for not keeping in touch the last 8 years, but "no matter since I had called now, she wouold forget the whole thing if only I would come and visit for a while." So I jumped in my car, I turned the key and... nothing. I was in White Marsh and I neded to get to Parkville in 20.32 minutes or my fully alive grandmother would disown me. I called my mom and explained that grandma had never died, thank God and she had invited me over but my car wouldn't start, could she please some get me and take me there? Her response: "we're on our way to grandma's right now.. and of course she's alive,w hat'd you think she had died? she only just moved across the street.." just as my mother said that, my car gave a great heave and a puff of smoke and micaraculously came back to life. No bother, ma I can get there myself, just please tell me where she moved "8300..." was her response. 8300? 8300 maple wood? 8300 Townhill drive? what apartment was 8300? was it an apartment? No big deal, I drove my happy (dream) self to Parkville in record time (because Apaerently I am a dreamy speed deamon as I am in real life) and I see a new condo development right across the street from where she used to live. By this time she has called me back but all I have heard on my line was "CRRRRRRRRR-LOUI-CRRRRRR-OK?-CRR-BYE" So much for asking her where i might find her. But 8300... ok. I look through the whole building, top to bottom. the doors are numbered in single digits... 20 all together. So it's not the right building. Again, no big deal. I call my mother again and plead for direction "8300 what ma?" "I've told you a million times and YELL YELL YELL" Then my father picks up the phone "LEAVE YOU'RE MOTHER ALONE YOU SORRY HALF BREED YOU'RE GRANDMOTHER DOESN'T NEED YOU" I couldn't find her. I traveled around everywhere and the sun went down and everyone I passed in my panting, smoking heaving car screamed "8300 LAME ASS" and "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, SHE'S THAT WAY" While this was, by far, not the worst perilous grandma dream, (one had a plot line of poisoned milk that everyone was try9ing to give her and I was the only one who could protect her. Another still involded arson and clowns... boy was that one a doosey...) but nontheless, it was a bit distressing.

To solve my distressful grandma dreams and maybe to finally show my mind that I know where she is and that I can't lose her and that she can't die again and that clowns had nothing to do with her eternal salvation, I decided to take a solo trip to the cemetary today. I was going to leave some flowers (which are part of the good news half of my day) and I was going to kick and scream and wrestle with God and cry and laugh and talk to her and talk to God and tell her everything and walk away realizing that she's gone and that's ok... And then I got to the cemetary. And I never really realized this, but there are like 8,500 graves there. And all of them are gravemarkers that sit in the ground, not headstones that protrude like landmarks... And then I realized that I haven't been to her grave since I was 9 years old and that there are approximatly 256 trees and 37 different views of the Virigin Mary holding Jesus and of the marble carving of the Last Supper (my only concious land marks) So I wandered around the cemetary for an hour and a half with my flowers, sunglasses, and sweater in hand and no I never did find her. The search continues in my dreams, I suppose...

Now for some Good news that I would love to tell my grandmother:

Mr. Future Millionaire brought me flowers last night. Pretty daisies of all sorts of unnatural colors. Don't get too jealous girls, it was one of those "what did he do wrong?" kind of things, but still very sweet. So what did he do wrong? Nothing really. He called me like 8 times between friday night a saturday afternoon "just to talk" and to invite me to the O's Game. The last time we talked on saturday I told him that I was going to crash his home in about a half in hour to bug him while he watched Star Wars. He said "Fine but you can crash with my mom cause I'm not leaving my room" Sure enough I got there and his mom made great company, but he had nothing to say but "Hi." Well, I turned my happy (real) self right around and left answering his "Do you want to hang out later?" With a terse "Why don't you call my whenever you're ready and I'll think about it..." He never called. Instead I get a mysterious late night call from Hot Stuff Baby (a good looking friend of my who named himself that...) during my viewing of Legally Blonde.

"What are you doing?" (Actually this was his girlfriend talking)

Nothing.

"Well, where are you?"

Miss.Woo woo's, why where are you?

"I don;t know, Hot Stuff, where are we? Mountain road. Hot Stuff says Mr.Millionaire has been looking all over for you"

Really? Why? He hasn't called me or anything...

"I don't know, Hot STuff said he called and he was being a jerk or something... (Hot Stuff Pipes up in the background, thats not was I said you're putting words in my mouth yadda yadda yadda...)

After all the confusion, all I got from the rest of the toss-off-phone contest was that Millionaire was looking for me and he was/did/was going to act like a jerk and I was instructed to answer the phone when he called. Ok fine.. Then I got a call not two minutes later (Hot Stuff AGAIN) saying to disregard the previous call. What call? Exactly...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Miss Woowoo: "If thats hot stuff and his girlfriend, kick them out"

Lo and Behold, out pops Mr. Future millionaire, flowers in hand. :) "I was being a real jerk earlier and I hope you forgive me..."

OF COURSE I DO, AREN'T YOU THE CUTEST THING THE THE WORLD? I'D LIKE TO ORDER 12 BABIES TO GO, THANK YOU!!!!

Yea, I'd say he's back...

I am taking a cue from Jeff Foxworthy here (a fact which may cause my weekly readership to drop by a whole person...) and I am going to make a "You might drive me crazy if..." list. Here goes. If you answer yes to any of these, stop sucking. (LOL: Disclaimer- Think about who I am before taking too much of this seriously)

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You walk crooked when walking with me down a hall way, in a mall, on a promenade, at the beach, ect..

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF.... You talk over me in the middle of a story

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You DRIVE in the left lane of the highway at 42.5 miles an hour.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You sleep til 2PM, stay up till 5AM and still wonder why I'm too tired to talk to you at night and too busy during the day.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You provoke someone else to anger and then yell at them.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You get mad at ME because you fit one of these descriptions.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You don't have a job but you have mommy and daddy's credit card.

YOU MGIHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You're my ex-boyfriend just calling to tell me you're gay

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You stop reading my blog because I make to many crazy lists.

Yeah, there are more, but Mr.Future Millionaire is calling and yeah, he's more important than this crazy list.

Blowing a tire... well, blows.

It took 2.4 of my family members to come rescue me at the local mall and change my tire after I rammed it (yes RAMMED it) into the gayest cobblestone median strip in the entire world. Did I know it was there? Oh yea. Do I pass it every night and hit it 26 out of 27 times? Yep. Was tonight the night my tire decided ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, I CAN'T WORK FOR THIS BISCH ANYMORE? Yyyyyeeep. Yessir. Yeperoni.

I am going to bed now.

Am I changing out of my grungy pavement encrusted pants and washing my luge-nutty hands? Nope.

I am recalling dreams I have had.

Of the sweet southern sun kissing my cheeks while pairasailing in Panama. Of blowing foam off of the top of a yard of German beer. Of walking the beaches in the french Riviera. Of Desert Storm and all it's torments.

Surely it's true these are not my dreams, or my memories. They are a gift, memories on loan from my brother. I don't think I talk about my brother much here, but I think it's about time.

My brother is 13 years older than me (I have two, the other is 10 years my senior) Being so much older, we find it hard to have a common ground on any issue. He's democratic but has conservative viewpoints, I'm republican and have view points that make sense. He's atheist, I'm baptist. His dad is rich and left our mom with nothing when he married his cousin, My dad... well, il est disparu. We grew up seperatly, worlds apart. He was raised by my youthful mother and a maid in a huge house with a farm, I was raised by a woman who was burned out and left bankrupt in a three bedroom apartment. But despite or differences, we have the oddest similarities. I look like he spit me out, we're both giants with dark brown hair and uncommonly good skin and grossly dispropotionate noses. We both love our mother, we both wish we had better dads, and we both miss our grandmother more than life. But other than that, that's about all I know about my big brother.

He left for the Navy when I was 5 (he was 17.) And all I remeber was having him one day and seeing him again in August, twice his size and all about me. He used to pick my up from school ealry as a treat and take me out for snowballs. When he was home, we would sleep together, eat together, and talk... Well, he would talk and I would listen. All the adults would bustle about, bringing by his favorite foods and saying how big and strong he'd gotten and I would watch, knowing he had just returned from doing something really important. He would talk about pairasailing in Panama, drinking in Germany, and walking the streets of Italy where our great grand parents came from. Everything in his short but treasured letters from him would unfold with gifts, pictures, and live interpretations of his travels. He would talk about the pretty girls and friends he'd made. He would talk about how much he missed us, and how glad he was to be home. Everyone else would pat him on the head and tell him how proud they were of him and how much they envied him in his travels.

By the time I was old enough to understand what my brother was doing, I was old enough to hate him. His temper and racism cut through my admiration for him like a warm knife through butter. He opted not to re-sign for a third term in the Navy and moved into our mothers town home, brining his bi-polar, pain-killer addicted wife and grumpy countenance. He told me how much he hated me for ruining his rich lifestyle and how if only I had never been born...

Something had changed in him. To this day, I don't know how he came to hate me. He used to be my big brother and now he's Gar, my half-brother who holds dual ownership of my mother with his brother. He has cut me out of our inheritance and kicked me out of our small family.

But I remember seeing him smile in those pictures in the Gulf Coast. I remember when he was tan and muscular and all the girls loved him, even me. I remember when I thought "When I grow up I'm marrying a man like my brother" I remember the letters and the 3 AM phone calls from the air craft carrier and the weekends on base and the vacations on the military resorts. I remember seeing him cry at my grandmothers funeral and wanting no one else to comfort me more than my big, strong older brother.

I don't know hwere to find him like he used to be. But maybe if I were as I used to be, adoring and quiet, maybe he'll come to me in a dream.

Some people think i can't leave well enough alone. They think that I can't take a hint. They might even think I am crazy.

But on the quest to prove my sanity, I think that I might have made myself out to be padded room, drooling mouth, in need of sedation, certifiable insane.

I just wanted him to tell me he lied to me. i just wanted him to say that he never loved me and that, even though he said it, he never wanted to be with me. I just want.... the truth... just this once.

But he denied it, he said basically that I heard what I wanted to hear and that he never was really in love with me he just said what he felt in that moment and that I can do whatever I want in regards to keeping in touch with him. He apologized 2when he was forced to, but included the comment, "What, are you traumitized by this?"

Yes.

"what do you want me to say?"

You're sorry. And that you suck.

"I'm sorry, I lied to you. I am a liar and a cheat. You never deserved to be treated like that and I recognize that I hurt you. I never meant to do that. Never. I just wasn't true enough with my emotions and I was too naive to realize that what i said and did had such an impact on you. I wish I could take it back but I all I can do now is apologize and let you live your life without me. Please forgive me, but if you don't I'll understand..."

That's all I want... I guess that's asking too much of the man with the whiskers...

So long Mr. Hamster, Hello Mr. Heartache.

I cried a little today. just a little. A half of a tear.

Maybe it doesn't mean much to the untrained ear, but me crying a little is a sign of quick comfort and reassurance. A little cry means that I am not happy, but ok with that. or a little cry means that I am talking or goign through something difficult but I find comfort in whatever is at hand. My little cry today was all Mr.Millionaires fault and his blessing.

We got to talking (actually he got to asking... Sometimes he leads me into conversations that are seemingly unpointed and harmless, then when you're stuck in the middle of them you realier you have to admit your whole lifes sins and trangressions or hang up the phone and change your name)and he asked me if I was mad at him last year. Last year when his Miss.Bunny said "that's Mr.Millionaire, the kid that's in love with me" (in her usual snotty and underhanded manner, dripping with unnecessary detatchment and dismissal, as if he weren't a real person and my dearest friend) little did I know he really did like her, but I, in all of my infinite wisdom, retorted with "no, that's Mr. MIllionaire, the kid that's always been in love with ME..." (insert hair toss and smile here) He didn't talk to me the rest of the summer (when i thought we were on the track for a nice long hit) And his reason for ignoring me was that I got in a "fight" with her and I "started stuff." Neither of which were ever true. How was I to know he really was smitten with her? And how was I to know that she wasn't really a snob with no more interest in him than he has in chocolate (he's mostly allergic...)

We talked more and I explained that I could have never been mad at him because if I hadn't let Mr.Hamster talk me out of what i knew was right and seduce me for the sole purpose of having a date for prom, none of this would have ever happened. Then we talked about my prom and how much fun he had and about how I'm still all about a bonfire for the SOLE PURPOSE of burning my dress and all evidence of my going to prom.

I'm really glad that he and I had that conversation though. the little tear came somewhere in between the "I was never mad at you" and the "It was all my fault." I wish there had been a "I love you" and a "I wish you could know that I mean that with all my heart" in there. But he stopped me at my one little tear and said "You know I'm not good with words... it's said that men use 500 words a day while women use upwards of 2500 and I still have a little bit of day left so I have to stop hear before i use them up..."

I think I met my quota here and now, so I will leave you with a half of a tear...

Your potential is unlimited in all that you've chosen to do. Do not assume that a soul which has incarnated in a body which you call limited has not reached it's full potential, for you do not know what that soul was trying to do. You do not understand it's agenda. You are unclear to it's intent.
Therefore bless every person and condition, and give thanks. Thus you affirm the perfection of God's creation-and you show your faith in it. For nothing happens by accident in God's world, and there is no such thing as coincidence. Nor is the world buffeted by random choice, or something you call fate.
If a snowflake is utterly perfect in its design, do you not think the same coule be said about somehting as magnificent as your life?

Conversations with God, Neale Donald Walsch

And what of life, or of college, or of my family, or of marriage? What of this business of "making something of myself?" Who are you to judge that my station in life, that the place which I have chosen to stop short and reflect before reaching the fullest glory of my life that God has alotted me- is not in a state of constant motion, is not acceptable? Who are you to dismiss my choice for my fulfillment in God's plan for me?

Who are you to say that God gave me wisdom to go to college? Who are you to sya that I should conform to your level of "rightness" in order to succeed in this world?

That's all.

I don't get it...

I don't get how everytime I write a nice piece about my ex boyfriends, my fiance and root bear floats how the internet in all its wisdom can decide that it is not worth of posting. I am just plain baffled...

I also don't get how on my day off I always get the call "louise... can you work for a little while today?" Darn it people, just schedule me everyday and call me when you DON'T need me...

At any rate, Miss. Woo-woo and I went ring shopping yesterday. Yeha, that's right I went fake engagement ring shopping... Pathetic? No. Enjoyable? Very. And i decided that along with my non-traditional gold dress, I also want a non-traditional pearl ring. One perfect white Mikimoto pearl with four tiny diamonds on either side flat set in white gold (are you taking notes mr.bunny?)

I guess thats all, since I have lost my mojo due to an internal error in my stupid computer...

BAH

Mr. Future Millionaire is definatly back. I would like to cordially invite you all to the wedding, the second wednesday twenty years from now.

You know I was thinking that other day that he and I have nothing in common. He likes dogs, I like cats. He's a business only kind of guy, and I'm a art school kind of girl. He failed english, i can't stop my fingers from creating wordy masterpeices. He likes ice cream snowballs, I like ice cream. He wants no more than 2 kids, I wasn no less than 5. He likes fast cars, I like buicks. He wants a woman who can work beside him. I want to be a stay at home, Kool-aid mom. He's going to college, I'm freelancing life. I'm an ubber christian and he just doesn't get it. He's all abotu the $$$ and I could care less. (Well, not true. I do like my jewelry and my car.... but I would go without if I had to)

He's a hard worker and I'm... a hard worker. He likes my parents.. and I like that my parents like him. He is adorable, and I ... well, I am a goddess. (insert laugh track here) We both like scary movies. We're best friends and have been since the moment we met. He wants to protect me and I want to be protected. I can't get enough of him and he likes it that way. Everybody likes both of us. (well, not everyone, but enough that i can say everyone and not feel bad about it) He likes to fish and thinks that my only place in the whole process is next to the frying pan, and while I like to fish, I might be ok with being spared of touching the bait and of sitting on a boat for 10 hours and of scaling them.He likes to drive fast and I like to be driven fast.

As Miss.Salsbury has said "Similarities all around"

AN INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION ABOUT LITTLE PRINCES, FOXES, AND THE SAHARA DESERT:

Miss Salsbury: i forgot to tell you-the little prince was awesome

thebadgummybear: AHHH!
thebadgummybear: I'm so glad you liked it
thebadgummybear: once you said you were really going to read it i started doubting it
thebadgummybear: i thought maybe It was really just a book written especially for me
thebadgummybear: oh i am so glad you liked it!

Miss Salsbury: it was like reading everything you've ever know was true in life but no one else seemed to get

thebadgummybear: I KNOW

Miss Salsbury: everything the prince said was what is important in life

thebadgummybear: I know and I feel like if i were stranded in the sahara, I would find him
thebadgummybear: I knew if anyone would get it it would be you
thebadgummybear: what was your favorite planet?

Miss Salsbury: i liked the one with the king, he was just so typical

thebadgummybear: lol, my favorite is the tippler
thebadgummybear: and my favorite earth encounter was the fox, I reread that part all teh time

Miss Salsbury: i liked the well best

thebadgummybear: yeah, that part makes me cry...sybolically what did you think of it? (insert 10 page analysis here)

Miss Salsbury: lol i like it because like so many things in life you can tell someone that it exists and when it doesn't seem likely they don't believe until they see it, kinda like God a little bit for some ppl

thebadgummybear: yeah, that's what i liked about it... sort of like the wind thing, you can't see it but you can see the effects of it... I wanted all of my friends to read it at the end of high school... I think when it was all said and done, no one could deny the memories and the impact we had on eachother, and some, like you and brian, had your love in hand, like him and his sheep, while others only had the color of the wheat to remind them of joy

thebadgummybear: sorry, i love this book so much

Miss Salsbury: it is a great book

thebadgummybear: DISCLAIMER this may becoming a blog entry

Miss Salsbury: the comment about if i had 53 minutes to myself by the prince is a great line

thebadgummybear: yeah
thebadgummybear: the whole book is one great line

Miss Salsbury: i got into it much faster than i thought i would

thebadgummybear: i find myself wanting to quote the book but having to quote like whole chapters because it's so good
thebadgummybear: yeah there's only 82 pages to love it or hate it
thebadgummybear: thats why I'm not afraid to tell people to read it cause if they hate it at most the waste 2 hours

Miss Salsbury: i know, i wish it were longer

thebadgummybear: no, just re-read it
thebadgummybear: I've literally read it 100 times since I was 7

Miss Salsbury: i will have to get my own copy of it, it is on the ever growing list to buy

thebadgummybear: everytime you read it, it will sound different
thebadgummybear: what else is on your list?

Miss Salsbury: caribbean and tales of the south pacific by james michener (i love him), the old man and the sea by hemingway, that summer by sarah dessen, the whole series of hitchhikers books by douglas adams, the iowa baseball confederacy by w p kinsella, and a bunch more, the real list is home
thebadgummybear: the old man and the sea, how was that
thebadgummybear: i forgot about that one, that was on my list a while ago

Miss Salsbury: i enjoyed it, it is one that you have to get into, but its short and its very heavy on religious symbolism

thebadgummybear: I remeber somone talking about it, but i can't remember if they liked it or hated it, but I figure if they talk, that's enough to check it out

Miss Salsbury: i am leery of seeing it since i loved the books so much

thebadgummybear: it was good, I haven't rea dthe book yet but I went with a group of people who LOVED the books, and they liked it a lot

Miss Salsbury:i may see it, it kills me when they screw up a book terribly, they did a good job adapting the godfather, and the notebook was okay, but the butchered shoeless joe (movie version is field of dreams, good movie but so not the book) and they totally killed one of my fav books, that summer, when they made it into how to deal by combining it with another book by the same author titled someone like you

thebadgummybear: yeah I don't usually see to many book movies of books I've read because of that fear, but everyone liked it, and i think you will, atleast just for entertainments sake



SUMMARY:
Read the Little Prince, Tell me it's awesome, I will love you (if I don't already.)

:) :) :) :)