It's monday morning. I'm not fully awake, and won't be for another two hours. I only had three hours of sleep. I'm cranky. I hate the world. Whenever someone asks me to do something, I give them my "Really?" look. Yes, the world is an inconvenience right now. 

In my half awakedness (yes, that's not a word but I'm Suge and it's monday so I make shit up), I manage to stumble upon a memory. Not sure how I manage to find this one, I certainly wasn't searching for it. But it's amazing what your mind brings up when someone says "Suicide hotline."

In this day and age, I think suicide is something we can talk about freely without worrying about crossing any lines. I mean, it's a natural part of life. 

...Well... No... Actually it's not. No, not really. Otherwise, they wouldn't have crisis hotlines for it.

Moving on...

I have this horrible habit of letting things pile up on my shoulders until I feel like I'm going to cave in emotionally. I don't know what that means but my therapist says it a lot and I think it means something. I get very angry during this times, I get hopeless. God or the universe or whatever is throwing too much at me and I can't handle it all. My mind immediately goes to suicide. When people tell me to go to my happy place, it's usually my funeral happening in my head. I know, that's really morbid. I'm not saying I'm normal, I never made that claim but, I get desperate... My mind naturally goes to darker places in time of struggle.

Anyhow, once upon a time (four or five years ago), shit was looking grim. So I'd gotten a suicide hotline number from...well... I'm not entirely sure. Probably a bathroom stall at Albertson's. As the hideous feelings grew, I decided to give the number a call. "What's the worst that can happen?" I thought to myself. 

Let's just say I wasn't looking for pure wisdom, but rather, encouragement. Maybe I wanted to feel special or maybe I just needed someone to say that it gets better. Or maybe I just wanted someone to talk to.I needed to feel like living was kind of a big deal.

Within moments of an actual person answering the phone, I was put on hold for ten minutes. In ten minutes, I could have killed myself, don't they know that? I said to myself. 

I guess they were short a few hotline operators or something but finally, someone came to the phone. It was standard question and answer.

"How do you feel?"
"Like killing myself."
"Why?"
"Because my life sucks."
"Why?"
"Um... It just does."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure..."
"It gets better."
"Really?"
"Usually."
"Oh..."
"You're special."
"I am?"
"I think so."
"Huh... I never saw it that way."
"Yeah."

It was pretty bad. That right there made me not want to kill myself. That right there made me want to hang up the phone and forget that this mistake had ever happened!

But it gets better. Because moments after hanging up the number, I get a call from someone else from the hotline.

"Ma'am?"
"That's me."
"We'd like you to see a licensed counselor."
"Will this hurt?"
"Wat?"

I made an appointment with a therapist somewhere in Everett. Sheepishly, I went in to see her and nervously waited with my poetry journal in a waiting room where a junkie was staring at me. The place smelled like an old lady's house and the couches were uncomfortable. And it was gray. This very uncomfortable gray that made me think of what happens after death if there's no heaven or hell. I suddenly had the urge to run. I got up, made my way to the door, and then they called my name. I hung my head and went into the therapists office. It honestly felt like I was in trouble for something. I felt like I was going to the principal's office. 

I sat in the lady's office, studying my surroundings. The room had the same doom-ish gray to it, but with the bit of sunlight coming in, it felt... Like I may never feel happiness again. Not the perfect place to talk about me wanting to die.

The therapist had a bowl haircut. I remember this vividly because I felt as though her hair was mocking me. It just stood there, all thick and bowl-like around her head. She caught me staring at her and stared back at me and for a moment, we just glared at each other. I broke contact and looked at my feet.

I don't remember her name. I only remember her hair. After our staring contest, she started asking a lot of questions. And I mean a LOT of questions. And they had almost nothing to do with my depression, anxiety or suicidal tendencies. She wanted to know how she was getting paid. I gave her my insurance info and she jotted that down. 

At that moment, something amazing happened. Sheer embarrassment.

I suddenly wanted to leave more than anything. After fifteen minutes of insurance and employment type questions, she finally started asking me questions about me. This didn't last very long. She asked how long I felt like this, she asked how often it happened and then said I would benefit from medication.

And that was pretty much it. Before I left, she said that it's okay to be angry.

At this point, I was no longer hearing her. I was sitting there, thinking of ways I could spruce up the grey colored room. I was thinking of colors that make people happy because, the very essence of this room personified suicide. Everything about it screamed KILL YOURSELF!

Before leaving, the therapist had me close my eyes and practice my breathing.

"I'll even do it with you."

She closed her eyes and started breathing in and out, for about five minutes. I did not close my eyes. I just watched her. This was pathetic. I was wondering if I could sneak out the door without her noticing since she was so into her deep breathing. Finally, she looked up and said, "You can leave."

I never ran so fast in my life. I trampled over a few junkies and crackheads on my way out to my car and vroomed my ass home. The experience left me feeling so horrible that I was wondering if that was their tactic for dealing with suicidal people. Sure, I didn't kill myself but this was the opposite of help. I had a lot of shit to expel and none of it came out. We focused on breathing mostly. When I finally got home, I told myself that I was going to put this behind me and pretend it never happened. I sat on my bed and wept for ten minutes before going to bed. Part of me felt so shattered by the experience, the rest of me was horrified that I'd even gone through with it.

A few days later, my mom asked me about how my therapy was going. At the time I wasn't currently seeing a therapist so I was confused. A few questions later, I found out that the bowl haircut lady had called my emergency contact (mom) and basically told her what had happened. After telling me it was confidential. I was pretty pissed.

In the end, I've found different ways of dealing with my depression and misery, but isn't it sad to know that if I ever get suicidal, I will not rely on a crisis hotline to get me through these trying times. It's sad. But they succeeded only in making me feel like a worthless individual. And I can make myself feel like that on my own!

~Suge

Half of My Heart

I really want to work for myself. I have this dream of opening up a cupcake shop, and decorating it with all my lovely crafts. My partners in crime with me everyday, living and creating in a positive environment. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to get there though. Do I start small and drive a mobile cupcake cart or do I just jump in feet first and hope for the best? Half of me thinks I can do this, the other half laughs and tells me not to be so stupid. I love making cupcakes. Everything about it, coming up with different flavors, and making things from scratch. It's very fulfilling for me to create treats that make people smile. Not to mention be able to create something they can take home keep forever. Sugar Shoes would be more then a cupcake shop. It would be an art gallery, a chill place to hang and eat treats with your pals, a place to find one of a kind gifts, and my place...a place for me. A place I know that I belong, but can't for the life of me figure out how to get to.

Those talks in NOLA really had me thinking, if people can start lame little restaurants in the middle the French Quarter why can't I have a cupcake shop in an area where there isn't any? Why am I listening to the Grease soundtrack? Anyway, you business majors, help me out here!!!

I'm a sad panda

Lately I've been depressed. I've been searching and searching for any kind of cause or trigger but I've yet to find one. I'm sad all the time. I hang out with my friends when I can (and when they can) and when I'm not with them, I'm at home, crying. Or contemplating doing something bad. I've managed to sustain but the urge is like an itch and if I don't scratch it, it becomes more powerful.

I feel like a strain on others and I tend not to lean too much on the people in my life, just because I don't want to lose them as friends. I feel like I have so much on my plate right now, and I'm not hungry for any of it.

Imagine, me. Not hungry. HA! I crack myself up.

Work is the same. Sometimes I bust my ass and sometimes I wonder what the point is. I can work harder all I want but I hardly get any acclaim for it. Increasing my story load, working after hour events, trying to be nice to certain coworkers, why? I'm not getting paid extra and I'm not moving forward in life because of my extra work. I just do things. Without motivation, without reason.

But I keep trying.

And school? Pssssh. A year ago, I was super excited to be pursuing an interest of mine, and now I wonder if I'm pursuing the wrong interest. I have always loved taking pictures. But I've also loved writing. And I stopped going to school for writing because I felt like that was a useless degree. Photography seemed tangible. And I still love it, but I don't feel like going to school. I'm just, unmotivated. I feel like I'm not all there.

But my depression has always been like this. It comes in waves. A month ago, I was fine. And now, I feel like I've let the world fall apart.

Some people suggest medication, therapy. I'm thinking of both but in the past, the efforts have been deemed useless to me and I've dropped them like a bad habit. You probably can't cure me. I'm one of those lost causes or something. And I have serious issues with my appearance lately.

Serious issues. Like I feel like the ugliest person alive. I feel so grotesque that looking in a mirror is painful. I feel like I should be dead, because there is very little about me that is appealing. I feel like a monster, I feel surrounded by beautiful, wonderful, successful, accomplished people. And I'm this ugly troll wearing a mask, trying desperately to fit in, knowing that I'm failing.

Yes, yes, I know everyone will tell me that it will get better in time. And I believe you. But this is right now. And right now, it all sucks. The depression has me bogged down, I escape through writing but into darker worlds where I learn to appreciate true suffering.

I'm sure it'll all go away eventually, but then it will all come flooding back as well. Sometimes, I wonder where I get the courage to go on. Or if I'm just going through the motions. And when will I snap?

<3 Suge

The year is almost over and it has been a hellacious one at that. Friendships gained, friendships lost. Car accidents. A trip to New Orleans. Moving. And just general fucking around. 

I cannot pinpoint a favorite of this year. Becoming friends with Jake and then losing that friendship was bullshit. The lies that ensued cost me my friendship with Veronica but we are speaking and ironing out the creases and figuring shit out. No idea if we'll go back to being the friends that we used to be but I don't hold grudges for long. I prefer to make amends or at least figure out where everything fell apart. I decided to take a step back from it all and just focus on me, in hopes that eventually, I'd either get over it or wanna figure it out. A little of both happened.

The trip to New Orleans was amazing. Far better than the first time I went. We spent so many days just walking around, taking pictures and checking shit out. I was sad to leave but happy to be home until I got home and wished I hadn't left at all. The place was magical, it bonded mine, Kimmeh's and April's friendship. There are so many inside jokes from that trip, it makes me smile when I think about it. It was a blast and I hope to have many more trips like that in the coming year.

I moved again this year. I figured that this would be the last time I moved but the more I think about it, the more I think I'm ready to look into getting my own house. That, of course, depends on whether or not I can afford it. I desire my own place, I desire to have a place where there's enough parking for my friends when they come to visit. I want a place where I can be loud, a place that I can design to better fit my needs. We'll see if that happens. 

I also got a new car this year, after some dood in a jeep totaled my Versa. With that, I figured that the car I recently got (a Sentra) will be with me for a long while. It's a great car and I will definitely take better car of it. I will also try to be a better driver but no guarantees. 

I also lost a lot of weight this year and got more serious about shedding the weight. I became a gym nazi for awhile and then suffered some serious burnout. A break is needed every now and then. I shrank about three pant sizes and hope that I can keep losing. I'm at that point where it becomes harder and harder to lose the weight but I'm determined. Even though I still feel like a fat monster, I am getting smaller. I only wish that with my size shrinking, that maybe my negativity would too. Or is that a permanent thing? Ah the life of a realist...

There were many other memorable things that happened this year but the one thing I'm thankful for (aside from my health) is the people in my life. Family, friends, even a few coworkers. It's been a life altering year and I hope next year is even better. Maybe with less car accidents this time...

Here's to the new year, bitches!

 
 Love, Suge <3

Where Has It Gone?

This year has gone by so fast. So many things have happened and so many people have come and left from me. It's crazy thinking about all that has transpired in these short 11 months, I wish I could go back in time and marinate myself in the special times I had.

 I'm glad I started to lose weight again and ran my first 5k this year with my best friend Sarah. We set a huge goal for ourselves and did an amazing job the first time around. I'm proud of us!

 I'm still at loss for words over Jake. It still doesn't seem real that he was here and now gone. I miss him. Dancing till 4am with Sarah and Mirm was the best, we closed that club down! We really do have the best time together! Denny's?

 Taking a break from my marriage to find happiness, that was tough. I met some special people and some not so special people. Josh, you are a total asshole. I'm sorry you live your life that way, not caring about anyone. It's a shallow existence and one day you'll regret every minute of it. Jason, you need help. Brandon, I dunno...you could be a special someone, to someone else. Jed, you tall fucker you. I still have the hots for you, but hanging out with you as friends is working too. You're cool, just get your shit together. Last but not least Scotty. You have turned into a special friend. You are amazing in every way...just ease up on the throttle a little. After meeting all these different people I decided the time wasn't right for the split and Dave had agreed that he's got some work to do. For now, I'm still married.

 Work has been tough. I'm slowly going over the edge. The responsibilities have become massive and I still haven't had a raise. Although I've hit the third year without one, I will stick it out and see what comes of it. Again...

 NOLA...what can I say? Was the best vacation by far that I've ever taken without the fam. We rocked that town, and spent a lot of money doing it. We saw everything there was to see and ate everything there was to eat. Spent a night singing to the jukebox in a bar, had our auras read in a voodoo shop, and shat my brains out from the Muffletta. Good times...

This year was a blast, good and bad. I'd do it all over again, perhaps somethings I'd do a little better.

~Kimmeh~

Friends!!!!

April

Kimmeh

Mirm

I am fortunate to have the circle of friends that I have. Some haven't been pictured but they know they belong.

I spent all of last week showing my appreciation to my friends. I took April, Mirm, Kimmeh and Boris out to dinner (separate occasiona). I was going to take my sissy out but she trumped me and ended up paying for lunch instead.

It felt good to show my appreciation to my friends. It's not like I was trying to buy their affection but more so that I was trying to prove a point that said, "Look, yer stuck with me, here's some food, get over it!" Okay maybe not that message but that I really care about them and am glad they are in my life. Sometimes, you don't hear that enough. And you need to.

Plus, we're all pretty rad together. I'm pretty sure we could take over the world if we decided to do something other than grab each other inappropriately :)

To friendship! CHEERS! :D

This past year has been extremely busy for me at work. I've been tossed duties left and right and I can normally roll with the punches. I'm pretty adaptable to work load and have valuable skills with knowing how to prioritize accordingly. Things one must learn working in a fast paced environment. Even with this arsenal of ability I'm seriously doubting whether or not I can handle my new work load. I was just informed in the accounting meeting that we've acquired Honda lube business, which basically means they have a contract with a major Supplier (ConocoPhillips) and ConocoPhillips has handed us the business. This means we'll be selling over a million gallons of lube products a year, all billed by me. This also means that my side project has now been taken from the back burner to the front of the line, which is pretty much automating this billing process. I really don't know how I'm gonna juggle all this and have energy to take care of my children at the end of the day...

~Kimmeh~

My new place smells like an antique store

I recently moved this weekend. I was extremely grateful for the help because I was moving to the third floor and I could not have done that by myself, no matter how I tried to convince myself that I could. It simply takes two people to carry a couch up the stairs...

I loved the place when I first saw it and now I wonder if my joy was blinding me to the true issues. Maybe I was so excited or nervous that my eyes simply saw what they wanted to see, which was a perfect little apartment when I now know that that is not true.

That's not to say that I hate the place, because I really don't. But there are some things about my new home that make me cringe and shudder and kinda dry heave.

First, the bathroom has an odd smell. I wasn't able to locate it for awhile until I realized it is probably from the toilet. The toilet leaks this weird brown ooze and I'm sure that's where the odor is from. I didn't see that when I moved in, because, it wasn't there. Not until the toilet had been flushed a few times did it start to leak.

The water isn't drinkable in that place. It has a funny taste. True, that can easily be remedied by boiling the water, buying bottled water or getting a britta water filter but for the moment, pretend I'm not rolling in cash. My first night there, I went dehydrated because I had nothing to drink. I busted my ass all day carrying shit upstairs and then had nothing to drink later on. I really almost fucked myself there. I'm an avid water drinker, this is not acceptable.

The third and probably biggest problem was the kitchen. Not one part of the kitchen but all parts of the kitchen. Obviously, it had been neglected. No one came in and cleaned it before I moved in and now I'm wondering if any part of the apartment got any kind of cleaning. There's a lot of grit on the carpet so I don't think it was vacuumed or steam cleaned. There's also some interesting stains on the wall. But that didn't bother me as much as the kitchen. We're talking stains, crumbs, stickiness, and odors of all types. The fridge and freezer are a mess, the oven is a disaster, and the sink had so many stains and I'm not sure where any of them came from.

Since day one (which was saturday), I have not set foot in that kitchen. I simply cannot bring myself to go in there and clean up some goon's disgusting mess. I know I'm going to have to at some point but I simply cannot man up enough to do it now. I tried going in there, after moving, to sweep and swiffer and scrub some of it but I got so disgusted I had to just walk away.

These few instances, combined with the shitty parking (which seemed fine a few days ago but no longer is), I am having severe doubts about this place. Which sucks because I absolutely love it but it's not up to Suge standards and those are some pretty OCD standards. You might look at these problems and think they are minor but they are currently keeping me from being happy in this place.

Not only that but my misery also stems from the fact that most of my belongings reside in boxes at the moment. I am very uptight and edgy because I am not unpacked and thus, I am not able to be comfortable. Not only that, but I think I have the beginnings of a urinary tract infection and, I'm going to go ahead and blame that on the kitchen too!

A house, a house, my kingdom for a house!

Home.

I haven't had one of those since I lived with my parents. And even then, you wouldn't catch me actually calling it a home. More of  house of torture and displeasure. But that's another story...

Recently, my travels in life have led me on an apartment hunt. You see, my rent is going to be raised if I renew my lease for another year. Month to month payments would be around a thousand dollars so I think it's tits or get the fuck out. And I'm all out of tits.

I'm a single person. I have only my pets to raise and they pretty much raise themselves nowadays, I merely feed them. Anyhow, I'm a single person. I live by myself and other efforts to live with others have proved fruitless. Quite simply, I do not play well with others. I'm OCD to a fault and it's usually my way or the highway... Or possible negotiations. But I like to live alone. There's less judgement in that.

In being the only person in my household, I am also the only income. I cannot get help from my tribe in order to find a place to live, I cannot get support from my tribe to help me move. Tulalip, with its many dollars, offers no help to it's single income tribal members. I'm sure there are many benefits and programs the tribe has to offer its members, sadly, I fit in none of them.

Or they want me to exhaust my per capita loan. I've already done that, I will not do it again. A loan is not the way out. Sometimes, it only complicates things.

I'm sure there is some way to cheat the system. I've heard stories; many tribal members to it, getting away with a lot of money they didn't earn nor deserve. However, therein lies the problem. I am too honest. Or too clumsy and offputting to properly get away with that.

Being single sucks. I like being singular, but there is no program out there that is designed to help me financially secure a place to live, or to help me if I come across bad times. It is very angering. On top of all the other anger I feel for humankind, there lies that one. Right on top of it.

And why not single people? We have no dependents (aside from pets), we could use the boost. There are all kinds of programs designed to help single mothers/fathers, and dual incomes definitely help with monthly payment but I am dead set against the idea of dating at this stage of my life. Plus, why would I date someone just for their paycheck so I can live somewhere? Doesn't seem worth it.

I hate feeling so defeated. I hate feeling so out of the norm. I'm not knocking anyone's lifestyle choice, I just feel very singled out (see what I did there?). I was interested in possibly buying my own house. I spent all of yesterday filling my stupid head with ideas of how awesome it would be to have something of my own. My own house, that's the tits! But with my recent luck (or lack thereof) I found myself being utterly defeated. I talked with someone within the tribe about mortgaging and with that information, I laid it all out and came to the conclusion that, I really cannot afford a house. Not right now. And if I'm in this job till the rest of my life, then not ever.

So it's back to apartment hunting, which I wasn't having a whole lot of luck with in the first place. I have been on a streak of misery and misfortune lately, I suppose that this should come as no shock. I just hate feeling dejected. I hate feeling screwed over.

 ~Suge

Radio Show

We came up with a name for our radio show, tell us what you think!

Two Girlz, One Sup!

Moderation and Comments

Suge and I have the option of reading all comments before we choose to publish them or not. Posting rude and hurtful comments under the anonymous name will get you no where fuck head. This is the second time you've come here trying your lame attempt at a joke at someone else's expense. If you think this blog is a joke then move on. If you're here just to be an ass hole, find another place to play. It's not hard to figure out who you are. There are only two places this blog is linked from. Facebook and nin.com. I suggest you rethink your childish actions before we narrow it down and call you out, shit brain.

Kimmeh

Fatty McFatFat (WARNING: Hurt feelings ahead)

One thing that does not elude me is that I'm fat. I'm overweight. I've known this for many years. It's not like I woke up yesterday and realize "Hey, I'm not thin!" No, that's not the case. I know I'm fat.

People pointing out to me that I'm fat is irritating and can sometimes be offensive. It's as if they think I'm not aware of my girth, when I truly am. Sometimes, it's more annoying than hurtful and other times, it's meant to be nice but it's upsetting.

Today was one of those days. I got my feelings hurt, and though the girl had no idea she was marring my self image, she did. I'm at that stage in my weight loss journey where I don't always think of how people view me, unless they give me a reason to. I am, what some might call, autistically sensitive.

I had just gotten to the college and was sitting down, reading my book and eating my banananananana. The moment I get to school, I become oblivious to other people. I just sit there and do my own thing until it's time to go to class. Well, for the past few weeks, I've noticed this chick, who also sits in the area I'm sitting, she's always staring at me. Mostly when I'm eating my bagel or muffin. It's quite anxious making.

For the most part, I ignore her. People stare at me all the time, I just assume I look odd to people. In the deeper recesses of my mind, I even thought she wanted to befriend me but I'm not the type of person who makes the first move on those types of things. Probably the reason I'm still single.

Anyhow, today she came up and spoke to me. It was very odd, very eerie even. She came up from behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. People who know me best know that I don't like being touched but I cringed slightly and turned towards her.

"Can you come outside, I want to speak with you." Okay. I told her I would and started grabbing up all my stuff in case this was a ploy to steal the two dollars I had in my wallet, I grabbed my bananananana and other junk and walked outside with her.

In my head was reeling the possibilities for this meet up. Maybe she was too shy to talk in front of other people. Maybe she wanted to ask me out (she coulda been a dyke). Maybe she wanted to invite me to a club or some kind of secret society within the school. Maybe she wanted money. It was, for the moment, a slight adventure. At least until we got outside.

When we got outside, I faced her and waited for her to start talking. I set my stuff down and took another bite of my bananananananana. She then started going into this spiel about her weight loss and how she managed to get it off and keep it off. She was still chunky but I didn't say that. I continued to listen as my stomach started turning itself inside out, already aware of what she was about to present to me.

She was pushing this product called Herbal Life, or something to that extent and said in two weeks I could lose twenty pounds.

"I think you would benefit from this," she said as I stood there, starting to blush and pulling my shirt down over my stomach (something I do when I'm nervous, usually about my weight). "I'm not insinuating anything, I think you're beautiful but I think you could use this. It would do wonders for you."

I'm standing there with a confused look on my face and she continues describing it like I give a fuck. She took out a magazine and handed it to me and I just gawked at her.

She started telling me how much it cost and I cut her off right there, saying, "I can't afford this." And walked off. I could have said more, should have said more and wanted to say a lot of things to her. Like how I used to be on the borderline of four hundred pounds. Like how I stopped eating fast food and haven't had it for two years. Like how I have been working off the weight, albeit slowly, for the past two years. Like how I had lost fifty pounds since January. Like how I was already dieting and exercising. Like how none of my clothes really fit me.

Instead, I hung my head and walked away. I went to the second floor of the building, opened up my book and pretended to read it. I was actually staring off in between the words on the page, trying to figure out what led her to approach me with this bullshit. There were other people sitting down, doing homework, eating and reading. Why me?

To others, my girth is overlooked and they can see past that to the personality. But I guess some people are appearance-only types. And while I attempted to lick my wounds and move on, I couldn't shake the feeling of disgust I was suddenly showered with. I'm fat. Others can see it too. It's noticeable. And maybe some people judge me on that.

And what if I was happy with my size? She would have given me a reason to be paranoid. How many people's days does she ruin to push some shit product anyways?

I know I shouldn't let one person bring down my entire day but being the emotional retard that I am, I am thrown back into the depression I was slowly climbing out of. I don't like people assuming things about me. Suddenly, I am very self conscious of the outfit I chose to wear today. I'm overly aware of what I eat. I'm overly aware of how I eat.

One person it took, to ruin my day, which was starting out pretty decent. One person. Someone who didn't even know me. Someone who knows nothing about me. Someone trying to push her products on fat people. Because perhaps, I was the fattest one in the room today.

~Suge

How to Traumatize Your Kids 101

I took my 2 year old son to get a haircut on Saturday. He'd had one cut before but he was just a wee lad at 6 months. He did fine then, but there really isn't much one can do at that age.

We walk into the shop and I sit down on the wooden bench beneath the windows. I watch quietly while two other men come and go before anyone asks me if I needed a cut. I tell them no but my son does, I'm sure that it's obvious because his hair hangs past his eyes. This seems like a sharp bunch, and for a split second I think about leaving.

I bring my son over to the chair and as soon as I set him down he starts to freak out. The girl starts to cry and says over and over "I can't do this, I can't do this!" Right about this time I look around and notice that all these people in here look like they've all been on Meth at one time or another. So I pick up my son and hold him close, his woobie is there to comfort him and we get ready to leave. I hear a voice from the back say "I can do it." I ask him if he's sure and he said "I've done this before".

Within seconds I have a cape around me and I'm sitting in the chair holding Shay. The trauma starts again, him crying and throwing his arms and legs about. All of a sudden I see the clippers go into his hair and I know there isn't any turning back. We fight, arrange, reposition, squeeze, hold, comfort, repeat until the man says he's done. I stand up and dust the hair off myself and Shay. The hair is everywhere, I mean everywhere. Shay has it in his mouth and eyes and I have it stuck to my face. I reach into my pocket and pay the $6 and in return I get "all that and no tip?" I thought to myself, here's a tip fucker. Don't insult the customers while they're standing in front of you. At this moment in time I'm not worried about tipping anyone, I just want to get myself and my son out of the place.

We walk out and get to the car, I sit him in the front seat and try to get the hair off him. I know how irritating it is to have cut hair in your shirt. I brush him off, calm him down and promise that mommy will never take him back to that low class methadone clinic again. As we gather our stuff from the car, I undress him and take him to the bathroom. He sits in the tub and lets me rinse the hair from his face and body and smiles at me. I feel better, I know that he still loves me and it's the bad man with the clippers that scares him.

I know that this isn't the end. The haircut was shitty, laughable even. His bangs had a two inch difference from one side to the other. I could have done a better job with my eyes closed and no thumbs. I plan to cut the rest of his hair myself.

I wrap him in towels and start to play with him. I make silly noises and get him to smile, he still knows whats going on. The first few minutes were OK, he just didn't have the endurance to make it till the end. Daddy is helping, this makes it easier. I finish, and his cut looks good. Once again, I undress him and take him to the bathroom. I set him in the tub and rinse him off. He's pissed this time, he cries every time I touch him. Eventually he relaxes and he's clean. I pick him up and dry him off. Clean night shirt and fresh diaper, he lays down on the floor with his woobie. He looks at me and smiles, I know he still loves me, it's the bad mommy with the clippers that scares him.

~Kimmeh

Paint Job

I have this project for class, ya see. It is to create the color wheel.

It looks simple right? I obviously have issues seeing colors because I always get my colors too dark. Not to mention, I'm an abstract painter and I'm fucking messy. My palette was a disaster.

You see, when I get into Sugey paint mode, it gets ugly. Suddenly, I'm thinking of color schemes that don't go together. I'm not in the right frame of mind. I'm insane! INSANE WITH PAINTS! It almost never ends well.

So, I'm doodling with my paints, trying to perfect certain colors and I look at my mess, which looks as though a baby came in and fucked with my paints. I'm decided it was time to stop because I was getting cranky at making my yellow green look more yellow than green and I was struggling trying to make the color purple.

 Uh no, not that color purple!

Yeah that's better...

So I decided I'll put it away for the night and get my ass to bed. I start cleaning up and I'm putting my paints away. I get up to clean my palette and when I come back I see the faintest spot of blue on the carpet. What could that be? I wondered. As I got closer, my suspicions were confirmed. It was blue paint.

FUCK! I yelled at, well, no one in particular. I ran into the kitchen and looked for the clorox wipes. I began scrubbing the floor, praying to some diety to help me get the stain out. I scrubbed till my arms were sore and had to wonder if I was doing this because I was OCD or if I just wanted to get my deposit on the apartment back. Whatever the reason, I was able to lift the paint from the carpet.

Satisfied, I went back to putting shit away when I get to the kitchen and see a blue spot on the ground in there. It's an epidemic! I thought to myself and grabbed another clorox wipe. Since it was on linoleum, it was easier to clean up. I honestly hadn't thought I was that messy. I'm usually much more careful when dealing with paints.

I go back into the living room, and yes, in a different spot, I see another bit of blue paint. I'm getting suspicious of an infestation.

I clean up that paint with another wipe and then I scratch my head. Something not right here!

I look at the bottoms of my feet, wondering if maybe I was dragging paint around from the first spot I saw. My feet were clean, well not that clean but they were free of paint. And then, it hit me. Like a ton of bricks.

Ruby, I say in a sinister voice. I began my search for her. She couldn't have gotten far. I mean, the apartment ain't all that big. I look in my bedroom and see her laying on my bed, she staring at me as if to say "You rang?" I pick her up and inspect her paws. I see nothing. Confused, I hold her for a minute while she noms my fingers, trying to figure out where this blue paint was coming from. I put her down and she runs away, giving me a dirty look and calling me a retard.

I put my hands on my hips to think and then I look at myself in the mirror. I have blue paint smeared on my arm. I look at this, and it's now covered with Ruby fur.

I run to grab Ruby again for a final inspection, of course, she thinks we're playing and runs circles around me. I finally get her and see that she had decided to dip her tail in the blue paint and had pretty much dragged it all around the apartment.

I took Ruby to the sink and cleaned her tail. She growled at me and then declared me evil. I finished with her and then scoured the house looking for more paint. Once I had gotten it all cleaned up, I was spent. I'd never scrubbed so much since the last time I cleaned out my sisters fridge!

~Suge