True Blood

My new vampire fix...

I don't have HBO but I have 3, count them-3 people who are willing to record it for me. It's nice to have friends!!!

The new HBO series is based on the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris, one of my favorite writers. I've been waiting for the series to come out for 3 years, and so far, I haven't been disappointed.

Anna Paquin is great as Sookie, and I loved the scene where Sookie's grandmother was reading one of Charlaine's books!

Jason is hilariously dimwitted, Tara reminds me of my sister(I can't get enough of her),and Lafayette cracks me up!

I even like the guy the picked to play Bill: even though he isn't my favorite character by a long shot.
LOVE LOVE LOVE Sam. I don't know who that guy is but I want more of him!

The only disappointment for me, so far has been Eric. But to be fair I've only seen him and haven't seen acting yet, so maybe he'll change my mind. I'll reserve judgment on that later. (My pharamacist, who I got hooked on the books, says Eric is supposed to be the finest hunk of man meat alive-or dead!ha-but from what I've seen-not so much...)

So all in all, I can stop re-watching old episodes of Buffy the vampire slayer-at least for the next few months. And as Buffy would say: Wish me monsters!

My girl Gina

I first caught Gina "Conviction" Carano on the reality show "Fight girls." She is known for her stand up skills, using knees and elbows to completely annihilate her opponents (not to mention that her beauty has earned her the title of the face of womens MMA.) Since making her debut in Mixed Martial Arts she is undfeated with a 6-0 record and is currently working on her ground game and submission skills. Check her out Sat. Oct 4th on CBS at 8:00 central time. Here's a highlight of what you have to look forward to:

Stealing again

Once again I stole this from Travis, because I have no original thoughts of my own...

A:Accent: Texan Twang especially when I say *shit*

B:Breakfast or no Breakfast: I don't usually eat breakfast

C:Chore I hate: Laundry...

D:Dog or Cat: One dog, Levi

E:Essential Electronics: Sirius radio, I can write in a notebook but now without music

F:Favorite Perfume: uhhh...

G:Gold or Silver: I like them together

H:Handbag I carry most often: I don't carry a purse.. I should because it takes me an hour to find all the shit I need in the morning.

I:Insomnia: YES... midnight is early for me.

J:Job Title: Pharmacy technician

K:Kids: One son
L:Living Arrangement: House complete with an attic that will eventually be my office and Man cave for the hubby.

M:Most admirable trait: Do I have any?

N:Naughtiest childhood behavior: Getting in fights on the playground. Although I was taught never to hit anyone first so I had to talk them into hitting before I could fight. (Seriously, ask my cousin)

O:Overnight Hospital Stays: Just for the birth of my child. I don't do hospitals if I don't have to.. eeek

P:Phobias: Needles... who the hell invented those things anyway ... or Clowns.. creep mother... well anyway

Q:Quote: "I wear the cheese, the cheese does not wear me." Buffy the vampire slayer

R:Reason to smile: I'm I mom (Isn't that craziest thing you've ever heard?)

S:Siblings: One brother, one sister.

T:Time I wake up: depends on the kiddo. If I don't make it to bed until 3, he inevitably wakes up at 5 demanding to be fed.

U:Unusual Talent or skill: How to make Tequila dissapear completely.

V:Vegetable I refuse to eat: I like veggies

W:Worst Habit: Procrastination (Obviously... I'm filling out this stupid survey instead of writing my next scene)

X:X-rays: kidney stone...
Y:Yummy Stuff: Choco-lat....mexican food... thai food...
Z:Zoo animal I like the most: I know they don't really do anything but lay there, but I love the reptile house at the zoo. I really want a snake for a pet but my husband screams like a girl everytime I mention it.

The Love of a Father

Been thinking about my Dad alot lately. I mean more than usual. This November it'll be 8 years since he passed away. My Dad was 46 years old when he died, and it seems wrong somehow. I feel cheated. I feel cheated that he wasn't at my wedding, that he wasn't at the birth of my child. He won't be here to see all the amazing things that Steven, who is named after him, is doing-will do.

There was a time when he looked at me and said," Your mother wants to kick me out of the house. What do you think of that?" and my reply was "Where's your suitcase, I'll help you pack."

I don't remember much about my childhood, except that I was a very morose young girl. I always had my nose in a book, able to relate much more with the characters I found there than with the kids at school. Now that I look back on it, my dad was one of those "no good" guys your mother always warned you about. My mom was pretty meek when she was younger (Now the poor guy who gets her order wrong in a restaurant better beware) but back then she didn't know how to stand up for herself. My Dad told her she was going on a date with him... when she said she thought they needed to break up he threatened suicide. They got married because she was pregnant and didn't know what to do about it.

We moved around more times than you can count on two hands, and probably your feet because Dad couldn't hold a job. He didn't like people telling him what to do.

The first few years of my parents marriage weren't happy for mom. I know this because she told me. She told me how he used to party and got her into the party scene. (I do remember sneaking down the stairs one night to see him and his friends smoking pot and watching porn) He had an anger problem and thought he could intimidate her to do what he wanted her to do. It worked in those first years. He thought he could intimidate his children too. We had a board sanded and lacquered at least three times with my name burned into it on one side and my brothers on the other. It hung on the living room door knob as a constant reminder to behave ourselves.

When I was a teenager the intimidation didn't go over so well with me and when I spoke to him at all it was usually to fight with him. Soon our arguments turned to dead silence or actual fist fights (he's the one who taught me how to fight so he can't blame me for that!)

But these are not the memories that I have of my father when I think of him. I remember that he was smart enough to realize that when his kids didn't want him around something must've been wrong. The minute we said that, it was like a 180 degree change in him. He didn't fight. He asked us what was wrong and actually listened to the answer. He stopped trying to intimidate us and taught us to think for ourselves, to defend ourselves, to become independent adults.

So when I think of my father, I don't remember that for most of my life he made mistakes. When I think of my father, I remember his smile, his laugh. I remember how when he wouldn't stop bugging us about giving him grandchildren, he laughed so hard he was brought to tears when one Christmas we gave him a baby doll at the dollar store. i remember how loving us wasn't enough. When he finally learned to love he included over 50 foster children who came in and out of our home. (And when I say children I mean teenagers who were so out of control, if they didn't make it in our home they were on their way to residential treatment-But that's a post for another day.)

When I think of my dad, I remember that he loved us enough to change.

Fuck it , I'm getting a General Studies degree

It took me ten years to get a General Studies degree. I just knew that I wanted double major in Criminal Justice and Psychology-with a minor in Sociology. Why? I have no idea... because I find personality traits fascinating. even the crazy ones. I also thought that maybe I could help people, maybe be a parole officer or work in juvenile detention center. But there was always this niggling in the back of my mind...why don't you write?

Then I'd bring myself back to reality and tell myself I'd have a career in psychology...

I worked in a Prison for a little while. I was so bored and working with the psychologist out there was far scarier than the prisoners. I knew I'd be miserable, so my senior year (coincidently the semester after my father passed away) I changed my major to English. But by then I'd been in school so long I finally decided to say "Fuck it. I have enough credits to graduate..."

I might point out that I wrote all the time when I was younger, but I never wanted anyone to read it-so it'd burn it when I was done. Or tear it into little bitty bits and toss em. But not long before my dad passed away he happened to read something I'd written. "He said, "Wow, this is really good, Karin. Why are you wasting time with psychology?"

I've been writing this damn book for almost 10 years... I mean I was just playing around when I first started because I worked at the computer lab at the college and I was so incredibly bored or needed something to distract me from homework... so the first few attempts I don't really count but still... the first time I wrote it, it was in first person, then I changed to having a few more characters so I put it in third person, then I completely deleted the new characters... now I'm still stuck in the same damn place I always get stuck in, and last week I though, I wonder what would happen if i put this in first person. I go to critique group and the comment I get is "you need to narrow your point of views so that we get more of Alex." (which is true or I never would have thought what it would be like in first person.) So I'm rewriting... again.

My question is this.... Am I going to play around so long that I finally say "Fuck it... I've written enough." and just move on?

Rules to go by when visiting your pharmacy

AKA: MANNERS

If you are on the state dime, I expect a "Please" and "Thank You" when I fill your prescription. Being rude to me while spending my tax dollars so you can pop out more children just makes your RX take longer to fill and your vicodin prices get higher.

You are free to talk on your cell phone. However, if you must do it in the store, please use a quiet voice. If you wish to talk on it loudly while I'm trying to consult you on your crotchfruit's medication, don't call me in 5 minutes asking stupid questions. Nothing makes me happier than to tell you "If you weren't talking on your cell phone, you would know this."

If you have small children, please watch them. I don't shit in your house, so I don't expect your children to tear shit apart in my store.

Our garbage cans are not for your dirty diapers.

Our outside ashtray is filled with sand so you can put out your cig. It is NOT a place for your child to play

The price I give you for Vicodin and Soma is the price I give you. I could give a rat's ass if the chain dow the street is 1$ cheaper.

Putting your infant carrier on the counter (with infant inside) and telling my clerks "Watch him while I get money (for vicodin and soma no less) out of the car. This is not what a "good mother" should do. You should know this by now;its your 5th. However, since you are only 22, I will just assume you're just dumb.

If you are going insult me, please use proper English. My English isn't the best, but its better than "you don't ax me where I got dis vicodin at."

Things of a personal nature should be spoken with me in private. Shouting at me "Why does my husbands high blood pressure medication make his pecker not work" from across the store is going to give you a totally silent pharmacy and black stares as my insides explode.

If you are going to proclaim anything about your husband's "pecker" please make sure your husband isn't standing right next to you.

If you are going to bullshit me, please use the same story on different pharmacists. We do compare notes, and we don't like to be told that your vicodin was stolen one day, and flushed down the toilet by your infant the next.

Shower. Please. For the sake of the world.

Let me repeat. Fucking shower with soap and water.

Call in the number of your vaginal cream tube. Don't show me how greasy you can get your label.

Brought to you by the angry pharmacist!

I watch too many scary movies

I'm home alone and I just put the baby to bed. God bless him! I put him in the crib, read him a story, tell him goodnight and that I love him and close the door. Not a peep. I set up the laptop, because dammit 10-midnight is my time to write.

Oh wait but first I have to do the dishes-
While I do the dishes I marvel at the new plotting I have in mind, despite the fact that it means I'll have to start completely over... and my dog starts freaking out.....

First he's standing in the living room on guard and then he starts growling... my dog never growls...
At this point I'm thinking that he's seeing his own reflection in the TV, or at the very least reacting to the hum of the dishwasher. But then he starts barking...

I'm still passing this off as some kind crazy dog personality trait I'm unaware of...

But no, now he's guarding the living room and the hair on the back of his neck is raised. His tail is between his legs and when I stand up to walk in the other room he's walking perfectly in step with me in a way no amount of obedience training has ever taught him!

I'm in the office and he's still in that stance with the hair on the back of his neck pricked. He's crouched at my feet shaking, and then he hides under the desk. I might mention that he's also drooling... I've seen Cujo, people. I know what it means...

My unease is in no way compounded by the fact that just the other day around 5 in the morning or so my husband comes running in screaming at me to hold the dog and guard the baby because someone was in the backyard.

I don't know if there was or was not anyone in the backyard but the next day my husband bought motion detectors for the backyard.

Now I consider myself a pretty tough cookie. I mean shooting a 9mm gives me a thrill nothing (well almost nothing) can give me, but shooting at a paper silhouette is one thing. Shooting at a human being rushing at you with god knows what in mind is entirely different. (Is it bad that I close my eyes when I pull the trigger?)

And my Daddy (God rest him) taught me very well all the neat little pressure points to use to unnerve a fella, and if a guy ever whips it out, Dear old dad taught me just the trick to send him *crawling * away. I haven't had to fight in awhile, but I'm pretty sure it's like riding a bike. So I'm pretty confident that whether I come out unscathed or not, I'll come out a victor...

On the other hand, if it's a ghost: pray it's a friendly one.

And barring the other two possibilities: Pray my dog is NOT turning into Cujo!