I’m at it again. I’d say someone stop me, but in the past I have NOT responded well to that.

I did one of the weird things that I do. Like I began to notice patterns in my behavior years ago (when I left my parents house, when I was away from the grating racket long enough to hear my thoughts, so on and so forth) but I’m still kind of like….but why? At most of it.

But the thing I did?

Even though I knew it wouldn’t make me happy, I did it anyway.

It’s always some weird version of consumption with me, anyway, isn’t it?

I spent a bunch of money, knowing that it wouldn’t make me feel better, but in fact might make it worse due to guilt, but I still did it anyway. Because nothing actually makes you feel better, but like, you might as well get/have shit you want, right? So goes my poor person for life logic.

What’s got me down? Nothing more than the usual shit. I’m always lonely. I really miss my mom. She’s two hours away but I haven’t seen her in three years. I think my husband has an undiagnosed psychological disorder…possibly plural there. I’m kind of (or just am) a raging alcoholic. The arduous work and turmoil that’s been the general tone of my life up until this point. The total lack of friends. The idea that I’ve worked a lot and for a long time and have no financial indication of such effort going on. The idea that if I want to actually have children I should probably get on that soon but also the idea of having an infant/child to care for and raise sounds HORRIBLE and life-ruining and most days I’m like eh, can’t afford kids anyway…darn…guess I better keep doing what I like with my time.

But that’s all pretty normal, I think, except for the my mom stuff. And there’s nothing I can do about that situation, so I’ve kind of moved on. Sort of. It still makes me really sad. But I mean, so? Some things suck.

But, lets discuss WAY more interesting shit, what I bought:

1) New winter coat. I wore a boring puffy coat the past two winters. I wanted a fancy pea coat that isn’t as warm but looks way nicer. The one I bought has a faux fur collar. It was over half off (So $99)
2) Since I was already on JC Penney.com, I was like well, better get more concealer while I’m at it
3) Since I was on the Sephora section of JCP.com I was like…better get good mascara…..
4) Then, this one is more confusing, I was like…I should buy foundation. I haven’t purchased foundation in at least five years. Since before we got married. It’s obviously a cool thing to have, but I don’t really need it, because I have no reason to get ready for anything. The last time I did a full face of make up was Halloween…then that one Saturday right before Halloween I went out (and I don’t see that scenario occurring again) so…..why did I buy it? It might not seem like such an important question, but the shit I buy is $39. So. More important than $8 foundation.
5) Two new pairs of glasses. I paid out of pocket for an eye exam in February, and was like…yep…gonna get on buying glasses off Zenni with that prescription anytime here…. and finally was like you know what fuck it. I haven’t purchased new glasses in….at least seven years. The prescription is pretty much still the same so that’s not the biggest deal in the world, but still. I didn’t know what kind of glasses to buy for my face shape, namely because I didn’t know my face shape. It’s diamond. That’s why I didn’t know it, that’s not one of the common ones.

So yeah. I’m at it again like always I guess. I at least bought some practical stuff. Not stuff I TOTALLY needed…but…eh. Stuff I sort of needed.
So you could take this as a weird list of stuff I spent $300 on.

Or you could see what I see. That I picked up on patterns of love/affection from the only stable people in my life when I was a child, that things/food=love. I’d blame my Grandma, it sort of is her fault, with her cold ass German upbringing, But she was the only reason I had a remotely normal childhood…so…should I really be finding fault with this woman?

I tried building a memory palace once. It seemed like a good idea. But, idk, it’s so visual. If I’m visualizing something, it’s CF, or the story for after the CF series, or me fucking, I’m not building a memory palace. Maybe I don’t need one? I feel like I should. If you aren’t awesome like me and DON’T know what one of those is…well first I would STRONGLY recommend you purchase these books and read them in this order (Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Hannibal Rising). If you don’t want to read all that, which, I wouldn’t get why, but okay, Hannibal Lecter has a memory palace that he visits, and most of it is the expected hyper classy fanciness, but there’s parts he can’t control. Oubliettes, they’re called. What’s fucking eerie is I read Silence of the Lambs, where Hannibal describes them as “bottle shaped rooms with a trap door at the top” – in Hannibal’s memory palace, there are oubliettes that he cannot contain, filled with shit, with the memories he can’t stop, and when he’s distressed, particularly when his sense of smell is assaulted. And then right after SOL I read Daisy Miller…and what the fuck gets mentioned in there? Fucking oubliettes again. When Daisy and the narrator go visit that one castle together, Daisy stands at the edge of the of an oubliette and cries with dismay or whatever, and the footnote says something along the lines, “dungeons accessible through a trap door at the top, for forgetting prisoners.”

So, that weird foray into literature is brought to you by the idea that I tried to make a memory palace. But the only positive places from my childhood are my Grandma’s apartment, and my bedroom, alone, all by myself, with my cat and all my toys. Those are the two places. I mean I liked the library in my school, and the public library by my house, but the other kids/people, the my mom bitching that she had to drive me to and from the library….so lesser than the first two places I mentioned.

So what I’m saying is, in Hannibal Lecter terms, saying someone’s apartment is the largest portion of your memory palace is really making a statement.

So I try not to fault my Grandma for the ways she specifically made me fucked up. Or my mom. The two of them were/are actual humans who loved me. W is just a fucking monster and J is just soooo fucked up and saddening. And that’s the list, besides my best friend and husband, and that’s different.

So, I’m using my positive relationship with my Grandma as a means of excusing spending excessive amounts of money on myself, because that’s how she showed affection, that and overfeeding. That’s a grandparent thing, and a German thing, so there was no hope there.

At the same time, whatever. I work a lot. Possibly I deserve some nice things.

That’s all I got.

I literally have ZERO idea how I’m still awake.

I did a standard Friday caffeine intake. First pot of coffee from 6am-8am, second pot of coffee 8am-10am, third 1pm-3pm, then I had four shots of espresso in a drink from Starbucks around 8:30pm. This is standard level for me. Beer wise, I had one tall can (Coors light) before the grocery store (Starbucks and grocery store coincided, duh) then two more tall cans after, and I just finished a regular bottle of Modelo especial. I’m going to be pissed if I drink all of my Saturday beer tonight. But like I don’t feel fucked up or tired. Am I magic? Of course I’ve been smoking weed…but…it’s been a LONG LONG time since I’ve legit felt fucked up from weed. Like. For real. But anyway. I SHOULD go to bed.

I’m going to try and truly crank out the writing this weekend.

OH.

Something else I bought, finally, pole classes! I’m going back on Sunday. It feels like it’s been 10,000 years. I think it’s been 6 weeks. But up until 6 week ago, I was going EVERY Sunday for like eight months. But back to it on Sunday. So excited, but also unexcited about how sore my arms are going to be. But so worth it.

Well, I should be off.

Have a good weekend. Enjoy the cold weather. I like how it makes me want to cuddle. All summer long I was like “Get the fuck away from me,” whenever my cats or my husband were trying to get affectionate. Now it’s enjoyable. Plus it makes you want to be inside more, which is appealing to me in many ways as it is. Clearly all of my life activities revolve around being inside.

Anyway. Have a good weekend. Love you.
~Cassie

Bleh, or Unedited Stream of Consciousness Pt. 1

OKAY so, lies. I started the second chapter of Second Person, entitled Hair, but yeah…I don’t fucking have it in me to start getting into why the smell of dirty hair makes me gag. It’s not a natural squeamishness. You don’t work pet store retail for ten years and retain any sense of physical disgust. And while it feels SO wrong to leave yet another story open-ended…well, that’s where I’m at.

My husband is going to be MIA until Wednesday. He was also missing all weekend.

Call me a cunt because I’m mad my husband is volunteering for a very important mid-term election. But….do you remember? Remember her? Yeah. It’s still her. I will never not be convinced that he does this because fucking S is involved. I can’t remember if I gave her name, and I am NOT about to reread the blog I wrote when she was at my fucking house. That was….an interesting time…..

So yeah, strap in, this is about to me bitching hard about my husband.

In the sense that, I think one of the tenets of his OCD is to never EVER let go of anything, just…cling to shit that makes no sense….like….we got into one of our Top Ten worst fights because I threw out an old undershirt of his that I couldn’t bleach the stains out of. Like….he saw that I’d thrown it out…..lost his ever-loving mind, and decided going to a liquor store and buying a fifth of corn whiskey (why are details like that so easy to remember?) and chugging it on our balcony while LOUDLY bitching to his friend about me over the phone was the way to deal with the UNREAL stress of an old undershirt being thrown out. Of course, there was a bit more to the story. Isn’t there always? But it was the most I’ve ever hated him before our wedding night. Wait. Second most.

Let’s rank them:

Worst: Wedding Night
2nd place: When we went to MY coworkers party and he got SHIT FACED on Jameson and just….omg….made a drunken lunatic fool of himself at their apartment, like when he found out I wanted to go home because of how he was acting he bolted out the door, out the building, through the parking lot, wouldn’t get in the fucking car. Then when I finally convinced him to do so….that twenty minute car ride back to our apartment was like…..dude…….If I ever said anything like that to his overly sensitive ass….jesus he would’ve fucking killed himself. Then when I get home, he takes off again. Just runs out of my car. He disappeared for a few hours. I have no idea where he went or what he did. Neither does he. I remember, and will always remember, staring out the balcony door, wondering if he was going to get arrested (spoiler, we did NOT have bail $….do we EVER have money??) or pass out in the street and get run over. This was ALSO the night he shoved me through the closet door. Yeah.

Sometimes people, even ones you love, they do things that forever lower themselves in your estimation. Maybe I did that to him when I spent too much with with R. But you know what. All three of these things happened WAY before R came into the picture.

3rd place: Corn whiskey incident. I started smoking again after this one.

I remember one time, pretty recently, when we were rehashing what a terrible emotionally abusive thundercunt I am, I remember snapping, and for one instant, I was talking to him like I want to, not like I know I should. And I said, in a tone I do not usually use, “Well, you ruined our wedding night, and nothing is ever going to change that.” Then I just kept watching him.

That really was the worst disappointment of my life. Serves me right for having high hopes, right?

Gosh. I wonder what emotionally healthy people do when they’re upset.

I’m literally keeping a record of wrongs and ranking them.

This is not what together people do.

I’d imagine.

Well.

Speaking of my unideal habits.

I did it again.

I was upset about many things happening in my life but I figured trolling internet strangers for sex was the key to happiness.

I wish everyone who thinks extraneous sex is going to fix their shit could live as my husband and I do for a week. They would see, like all other things, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.

Because I mean. IDK. I guess it doesn’t damage one’s self esteem when you make a profile on a few different “come fuck me” apps and like…the offers/interest just pour in.

Like one dude even got to the point where I sent him my Kik. (so rare) But then….like he suggests we get drinks this Wednesday. I mean. That SOUNDS fun. But then, on Kik, the guy’s like “So what do you usually get to drink?”

And like.

Okay, it’s not that specific question.

It’s that this person doesn’t know me AT ALL. His interest is based off of my pictures and a short blurb. What’s the point in all of that?

Fucking is just a mechanical release we go through.

Because I, like many, conflated fucking and love from a young age. I’m not saying they’re mutually exclusive, but they are not automatically inclusive either. I taught my husband that.

But when I went from having regular good sex (at 18) to like…nothing, or worse than nothing guys that underperformed and weren’t open/cool about it, I noticed something. If I didn’t masturbate at least one a week I would start having sexual dreams. I’m not saying dreams where someone’s fucking, I mean dreams where I make myself come. Then you wake up and are like….ohhhhhhkay……It only ever happens when I haven’t bothered to masturbate in like two weeks. So, it hasn’t come up in like….a LONG time. Ever since I started writing CF as hard as I can.

Because, to be honest, when I write, especially when I dedicate a bunch of time to it, I kind of like…have to go get off every once in awhile.

Which I guess is a good sign. If your writing doesn’t turn YOU on, how is it going to do so for the rest of the world?

So. Today I deleted my slut apps (as I like to call them) and started wondering on what it would take for me to REALLY be into a guy.

For awhile, I formulated what the application would be like, if I could get guys applying for the position (ha, position).

I shall regale you with some of it:

Start:

1) What’s your Myers-Briggs type? (Skip Questions 2-3 if you know)
2) If your answer to Question 1 was “I don’t know,” are you willing to take the test? (Visit 13personalities.com and return)
3) If your answer to Question 2 was “No,” then we’re done here, have a great day.

4) What did you do your first summer after high school?

5) What fictional characters meant most to you as a child?
6) How many niche interests do you have? (This is not a trick question, I expect at least two)
7) What’s something you’re a snob about? The longer the answer the better.

8) What’s something that’s popular that you couldn’t give two fucks less about?

9) If it was guaranteed that you would always have work and afford to live comfortably, what job would you have?
10) How many books do you own?

11) How tall are you?
12) Describe your jawline in one sentence.
13) Liken your eye color to any every day object.
14) Describe your relationship with your parents using a meteorological metaphor.
15) How much and what kind of original creative work do you produce in a given month?

……Yeah, I’m hearing it. I want a male version of me. I GET IT. I GET IT I GET IT. If I could somehow move heaven and earth to make a male Cassie (what would his name be? Jackie? Is that close enough? Okay here on out, if I refer to Jackie, y’all better recall this blog) I fucking would.

Stupid Frankenstein. Giving me the idea that if someone wants to create badly enough they will. Albeit to HORRID consequences. But I can’t reread Frankenstein. It’ll never be like it was with Professor I want to fuck real bad from undergrad college. I was in college a loooong time, and it’s not often you come across a truly gifted instructor. He was. Among many other things. I still hold out some abstract, remote hope that that’ll happen one day. I know I told y’all the story of when I went to ask for my letter of recommendation, right? Oh lawd. This was NOT my imagination. Long story short, Professor Iwannafuck was trying to help me grasp what I would want to write about in my application letter for grad school, he said something along the lines of, “I would write that ‘I’ve always been interested in the beautiful, the exotic…the strange…’”
And….okay…..

The WAY he said those things. The way he looked at me when he said them….we both knew that he was talking about me.

Which…okay I don’t get where he got EXOTIC from….I’m literally from the town the university is within. But I mean. The other two. FOR SURE sound like me.

But, when he said that, I remember looking at him a little differently, like I changed my regard and probably smirked. And he turned red.

I embarrassed this guy without even speaking.

Ah, you should see the deviant smile I get when I relive this memory.

But alas, since then, aside from the professional email interactions we had re: grad school, the only time I’ve been brought to his attention was when I added him on Linked In.

I should’ve tried to fuck him back when, shouldn’t I? I mean these days adding someone on Linked In is basically giving them the wink. Or so I’ve been told.

So. I guess I’d rather work on CF and hold out for Professor I (let’s just call him that so he stops sound like a character in an old porno) than meet some rando who like is barely hot enough for me, let alone smart enough. SO few dudes are smart enough. Again. I get what I sound like. I can’t control it. It’s the real version of me that I so rarely let loose. Why would I? Do you think the real me is winning any friends? Is my life not indicative of the answer to that question? It sure as fuck should be.

I’m reminded of a scene from Seinfeld, a show I watched religiously as a child because we didn’t have cable (well, we had pirated cable on one TV, and W watched TV whenever he was awake…so….I didn’t have cable). There’s a scene where George Costanza snorts and says, “I don’t know that I’m pathetic?”

And really, I’ve never identified with something more.

Of course, GC is like the gross one of his group of friends. Do guys who look like that get laid that often? I mean, for me, I could see myself fucking any guy no matter what he looked like IF he met other qualifiers (1) being nice/awesome, 2) smelling good, 3) ability to make me laugh 4) $$ spent on me, okay I get this one is bad but I can’t control what turns me on, plus it’s my Grandma’s fault she taught me that means love, that and food)

But, at the same time, I feel the GC quote a little too much.

Because, IDK, most days I feel pretty pathetic, in a just a myriad of manners. Does that work? I feel like it doesn’t. Whatever.

I’m pathetically broke, always have been.

I married the first guy who didn’t treat me like total shit. That worked out, but holy fucking fuck shit that was NOT easy….

It’s like I have some disease that prevents me from maintain friendships. Like shingles, only socially. Ew I don’t know why I picked shingles.

But yeah. I mean. The pathetic state stems from the loneliness. That, no matter how smart and attractive you are….STILL no one wants anything to do with you…gee….you must be pretty fucking unlikable, Cassie. Why is it no matter WHERE you go, you just don’t fit in and no one bothers to give a fuck about you enough to get to know you?

This is just what’s going on in my head at any given moment.

What does one do with this sort of neediness?

The application is sort of for real, but also sort of a joke. Just in the sense that the guy I want is NOT the sort of guy who would fill out an online lets-fuck app. Least…I don’t think….see I say that because I know I wouldn’t fill one of those out, and let’s face it, I’ve known a long, long time I just want a male version of myself. I literally want a male Cassie.

Sigh. I don’t think that could possibly exist.

This has been one WEIRD post.

Thank god I still manage to be so into myself despite feeling I’m super pathetic as a human being.

Because I am.

Once my fucking damnable feelings get involved with anything, it’s like…lights out logic, I can hear you shrieking at me from the outskirts but yeah…sorry…YOU’RE not in control anymore….we’ll need you when the emotions crash out, like they do, to carry on the wreckage, as you always do.

And so on and so forth until I’ve just tired my mind out.

Do you think there’s enough words to make it better? To make it stop or go away? Or is that not the point?

See, I’ll do something without a point.

I’ll love someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’ll care when I should not fucking care.

I’ll convince myself I’m doing what I want, when I’m doing what I feel. Which are like never congruent.

I do know what I want.

That’s not the issue.

The issue is finding it.

And it is a person.

And also an it. Because it’s also a special situation/relationship with that person.

He’s got to be out there.

I guess I shouldn’t be allowed to want this “him” and my husband. I’m not at all ever intending to give up my current situation. I’ve invested too much at this point. Not starting over if I can help it. Plus. Love and other shit I don’t feel like discussing right now because I am in a WEIRD mood. Like drunk but not angry or horny….so like…what??? What is this? I don’t even think I have a word for it.

But still. There’s possibly some reason as to why other men still fascinate me. Some much more than others. You can tell how invested you are in something happening with someone by how disappointed you are when it doesn’t pan out. I’m like certain of this by this point in my life. D was fucking wonderful at that. I decided Doug should be reduced to D, because I don’t get why I didn’t give him a letter to begin with. He’s truly not special. He was fool enough not to lock me down when I was nineteen. God I was hot back then. You don’t even know, blog, you don’t even know. I’m hot now, but I was like…..fifty pounds lighter, if not more, back then….siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

Anyway

I guess I should get back to fixing my deep fuck up with CF.

I kind of ruined my second to last chapter and now I’m staring at plot holes, wondering how to Spackle them.

Anyway.

I hope this autumn evening finds you well. FUCKING VOTE TOMORROW.

~Cassie

You’ll have to speak up, I’m wearing a towel

Yeah I don’t know, it’s a Simpsons quote. And the fact that no one I know, not even my husband, ever gets my sundry references depresses me.

I was thinking about it the other day, and my fantasy guy is just a male clone of myself. Someone who’s smart but pulls these major idiot moves, and like a 7.5 on the scale of attractiveness (I’d be an 8 if I were more in shape. I know this. I used to be a 7 but then I finally had the orthodontia I so desperately needed. This is all coming from me, not anyone else. I’m not even remotely sure of how attractive other people find me. I think it’s somewhat). But anyway, we all know how much I can go on about my appearance. I don’t think it’s so hard to figure out just why that might be. It’s just interesting, to me, because I truly am a fucking disturbing grab bag of traits, am I not? So, back to my fantasy guy. He’d have my facial bone structure (only a masculine one, but the same lovely cheekbones pls) but a super heavy brow, and a way thicker jaw, and really thick black hair. That’s kind of how R looked but he had a prettiness to him, that some men have, and he always had this like…brooding look…even when he was fucking. Plus R was JUST barely taller than me, and weighed less than me, and that’s already the exact parameters my husband meets, so my fantasy guy would NOT be R’s size. He’d be NOTICEABLY taller than me, like I can wear whatever heels and STILL not have to worry about towering over him. I’ve only been with one guy that met that guideline, and he was the WOW boyfriend…and….every time I think about how much shit I ate from that guy it fills me with a special kind of rage, the kind where I’m just infuriated at myself for putting up with being treated bad, like way to think well of yourself, fucking idiot. So a guy who’s just definitely bigger than me, but by NO means do I want a fatty. I mean, I like skinny guys. Duh. Especially, honestly, my husband is way ripped, in that “I’m skinny af” kind of way, and it’s nice because he doesn’t do a whole lot else for his appearance, i think in part because he works landscape and we’re broke as fuck ALL the fucking time and he drives a 16 year old Bonneville and and and and and you all the shit by now I should hope.

So, there you have it, I spent like three hours at work this week thinking about how my fantasy guy and I would interact. I’m not describing it here, because there could fucking come a day when I need to write that shit into a novel, and so, yeah. We all know how I get about the idea of someone stealing my ideas. I truly pity them, because IF they got away with it, I would pour my heart and soul, the pieces left of both of them, into destroying them in whatever way my relatively intelligent (yet impulsive) mind could think of.

SPEAKING of my writing – I am like nearing what we could almost call the completion of my first rough draft. So much work lies ahead, but I feel pretty comfortable thinking that, by January 2019, I will have a polished first draft. At that point, I have three people who had volunteered to read it for critiquing (none of these three are school friends either, so this will be more “is this a good enough/interesting enough plot to keep a normal person with kids reading?” sort of endeavor with them). Then I have a few other people I might ask. Like my best friend, hopefully she’s not too busy, she starts working as a doctor officially, for real, on her own in five days! I’m honestly excited for her, and I never feel that way for anyone but myself. And like, idk, there’s like no one else in my life that I’m actually proud of, besides her. Maybe one day I’ll tell her the many, many positive things I’ve said about her here. I’m not one to do that though. Like that one Professor from my undergrad college probably doesn’t have the faintest notion that I would like….LOVE to fuck him, like so much and a lot. But, what am I going to do? Out of the blue email him that? I don’t know how to have anything to do with people. I think there’s a reason I have ONE friend, and I see her like twice a year because she’s busy living far away (well, sort of) and being a doctor and traveling out of country all the damned time. I mean, truly, in some fucked, weird way, it’s a good thing I don’t have any friends, and I haven’t seen anyone biologically related to me in over four years, and we’re literally paycheck to paycheck af and we rent and we have a ton of credit card debt AND student loan debt (all mine, sorry babe). We own our cars, I guess. We have PLPD on them, too. But anyway I don’t want to start complaining. We started growing our own weed, so that saves us like $5000 per year, give or take minus expenses. Other than that….I really don’t live so extravagantly. I cook dinner five nights a week, the other two nights we’re definitely not going anywhere nice.  But anyway. All of this seemingly sad shit in my life is actually a strange, good thing because it means I have an inordinate amount of time to write. And I mean…aren’t writers supposed to be sad and poor and depressed and addicted to shit?

OH, have I mentioned how I’m totally back to drinking every day. Yeah. After doing so well for like…months. I’ve got it down to 2 tall cans per day. Which is way too much on a fucking 7 day a week basis, I get that, but yeah, my husband…dude…he’s doing exactly what you think someone coming off three years’ sobriety would do. Nothing’s happened. Yet. Yet. He’d be SO offended by that yet, but let me tell you, and I know I have, you know what that’s all about.

Only other interesting shit – I’m kind of into the idea of fucking my neighbor. He lives with his long time girlfriend, who’s this cute, friendly little thing, she reminds me SO much of a friend of mine from my retail days. I like, in no way want to harm their situation, but if he was like us, then yeah, that’d be so awesome. And don’t get me wrong, this guy is like a…hmm…okay 6 I guess? There’s just nothing all that remarkable about him, not that he’s bad-looking in any way. But, idk, sometimes i can sense when someone finds me attractive. And you know who REALLY likes that? Drunk me. And I’m usually plastered when I see this guy. So who knows, maybe that will pan out.

Don’t tell me about how anonymous sex won’t make me feel better. I fucking know. It’s still fun and distracting to pursue. So lay off me, I’m…..well I hate the word “horny” but that would’ve worked well there.

Okay, stopping, for real this time. This weekend is supposed to be sweltering and I’m going to spend the whole time in my white trash pop up pool, drinking coors light, reading henry james The Bostonians in an inner tube. Because summer.

~Cassie

30th birthday/420 weekend recap

The title says it all. It was great seeing my best friend for longer than three hours between her driving from her place on her way to her mother’s. She got here around 12pm on Thursday. But then she was gone from like 1-4, so I’ll count from then on. We went to a grocery store to stock up on the random things i needed to make Mai Thais (then, in total this weekend, we made one mai thai, I made her one at the end of the night with almost no rum in it…because we’re old now…anyway) and this fun alcoholic coffee drink I like making. Then when my husband got home from work on Thursday around 7 we went to a brewery by me that was disappointing. But then we came home and ordered astoundingly good pizza from a specialty award-winning one-location-only pizza place by me. So that saved it. Then we went to bed after a few more drinks.

Then Friday on my actual birthday we got up somewhat early, after my husband had left for work, she and I went to a breakfast place I’ve always wanted to try, but it’s always so busy I never try to get in on the weekends. That’s the first picture. What’s hilarious, what I didn’t notice happening at the restaurant but my bestie did, was that there was a couple sitting near us, and the girl got jealous/mad because either the guy said something about us/one of us being hot, or she caught him staring at us, because she said really loudly, in a voice meant for us to hear it (I didn’t hear it because we’d just gotten our food and I was like…devouring that…) she said “Oh that girl? Right over there by that waiter with the tattoos? Oh, she’s too gothy for ME.” Idk which one of us she meant, my bestie has dark hair, but I have a bunch of rando ear piercings.

IMG_9322

See, I told you we were real cute. We always have been! Anyway….I LOVE how, even a little hungover and unshowered, we’re still making this rudeass person in the breakfast place petty as hell. Mwaahaha bone structure.

Then part of Friday was spent running the boring errand of getting my paycheck from work and taking it to the bank, because LORD forbid we have direct deposit…..Anyway.

Then we went back to my place for a few hours. BFF got some cardio in, because God forbid she not do that for one day. Then she and I got ready. Then around 4pm we hit up a book store I’ve always been meaning to look into, but never got around to going to because they close at freaking 5pm. It was a disappointing book store, to say the least.
Then we went back to my place to wait for my husband. He gets home from work around 7pm. Then, we finally got to the Mexican place I wanted to hit up for dinner around 9. Then we’re there until almost 11pm.
I’d wanted to get all done up and hit up a gay club, like I told you guys, but then I was REALLY tired by the time we got home from the restaurant, I was like I don’t want to go pay cover just to buy expensive drinks and want to come home the whole time. So we only took only more pic:

 

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Then Saturday morning she left to go with her aunt to visit her mother in our hometown. Then I did NOTHING on Saturday. Like I did our laundry. And I SAT on Tinder. That’s right, I started a Tinder again, this time under my alter ego, Cassie. That’s right. AND, I managed to nail down a situation that i think will work out.
I won’t say the guy’s name because I don’t want to be rude about confidentiality, but he lives near enough and is the same age as me, and is very interested in being the bisexual interloper we need for a MMF threesome. I mean, that’s what I really want out of life, and my husband is also very into the idea. And he likes the guy I found. BUT, the guy said he can’t meet up until the weekend after next, sigh, so we’ll see if things hold up that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Tinder convos am I right?

I’m a little embarrassed I had SO much extra time off, and I didn’t write any more than normal…but oh well. I had a good time doing nothing, swiping left, slowly wooing this one cute guy for my husband and myself….It was a good time. He sent a dick pic and that’s a good situation, so that’s awesome.

So, the last thing I did this weekend was get done up to do some photos. As you know I have an at home pole, well enjoy below, one is me on my pole, I’m not rich enough to have the video support plan…sorry y-all. Then there’s another one of me because I did my hair AND make up and wore a fancy new pole outfit.

Then the last picture is me having a mai thai by myself, in comfy clothes, as i know my bestie suffers at her mother’s house in our hometown. I feel for people who still speak to their parents. That sounds real tough.

Anyway, I had a good 30th birthday and long weekend off from work, I really do appreciate that I had my best friend and husband with me for it, as I have for so many now. I cherish them both and my relationships with them. I’m sure my 30s will be great considering how fucking bad my 20s were by comparison, right?

Hope everyone had a good weekend. My birthday gifts were my pole, and like 12 edibles, and a new bubbler that makes me feel like a wizard when I use it.

Peace

 

~Cassie

 

“You’re gonna want to strap yourself in for this next one.”

Does anyone know what show that quote is from? Well, it’s a different context this time anyway. My BFF is on her way in right now, she should be here in like an hour I think. She’s ubering in from the airport because she knows me well and knows I do NOT want to drive to the airport, as I never have and I avoid stressful driving situations at all costs.

I have some time to kill before she gets here, and since I’m in a good mood and am getting really stoned (because she can’t smoke or be around it because she’s a doctor and all and they get drug tested like McDonald’s employees). And I wanted to tell you guys about this rando situation I once I had in my life.

But I realized, I never told you guys about Doug. And no, Doug is not his real name, but it’s close enough I’ll be able to remember who I was talking about.
I have what I like to think of as a very embarrassing history with him. We went to high school together. I was into him freshman year, and pretty much every year from then on. But, at the beginning of junior year he started dating this unattractive psycho in our grade. For the life of me I will never comprehend how this girl was always raking in dudes and I wasn’t. Like truly if you could compare our faces and bodies YOU would be stunned too. And don’t say it’s my abrasive personality, because HERS was worse. They were off and on all psycho like through junior and senior year, also I think after for a year or little less. Then all of a sudden, when I’m like 19, she’s engaged to someone else. I’m not saying I didn’t have things happen with other people, but i was always into Doug on some level the whole time. We had what I would call a mild flirtation going. We would talk on AIM. One time, I showed him a picture of my nipple piercings (when I was in high school, when he definitely was dating loonypants) and he said, and I quote, “Exquisite breasts.” It’s nice hearing, on any level, even in AIM.

So when I was 19, I do what anyone would do who was still hung up on this guy, once his ex SEEMED out of the picture, I started talking to him. This was the early 00s so we talked on AIM and on Myspace. This lead to eventual hanging out. We bonded a lot over smoking weed together, which I was already super into, so that was cool for me. In my defense, I always really liked this guy, in my mind he would be insane not to try and move on for real with me, when it was OBVIOUS things weren’t going to work out with you know who, despite her inability to actually let Doug go (SHE was free to be engaged to some dude she’d known for 4 months but if Doug showed interest in anyone she was quick to find some way to sabotage it. And he was like dying for any attention from her, because they had that weird fucked dynamic happening, so it would work).

So, Doug and I hung out, and got really stoned. This one time, we were alone at my apartment (I was 20, I had broken up with my terrible world of warcraft boyfriend about 9 months before that) we were really baked and we watched the movie The Number 23. After it was done, we had some sort of conversation that involved “what do you want to do now?” “I don’t know what about you?” “We could make out.” That last one (said by him) was almost a question.

Then, you know what happened. After awhile on the couch, HE suggested we go to the bedroom, but he did certainly ask. He carried me there. I can’t help it, I’m basic and female when it comes to how wet that shit gets me. I know it’s not fair to the MANY (most) men who couldn’t carry me any sort of distance. It’s not like I fit into the any sort of model-thin category, so I don’t expect men to have these unobtainable fitness abilities either. But…yeah….I mean I did weigh a lot less back then…but anyway…..

So yeah, we had sex once. but honestly the first time was disappointing. Because despite being the aggressor, if you will, when we finally got down to it, he was all “Should we really be doing this?”

Okay, I honestly had no idea what to think at this point I’d never had a guy get to like…the fucking point of insertion (sorry, graphic, sorry) and be like “Oh wait no this is a bad idea omg we should stop.” Like I’d only had sex with first idiotic jerk boyfriend (the one who took me to my senior prom but didn’t get me a corsage and then guilted me that me couldn’t afford to go to his prom because of mine, that’s the kind of guy HE was…) and then WOW boyfriend, and neither of them were sexually aggressive, at all, but they didn’t want to not do it when we finally were at that point I mean OBVIOUSLY I thought we should be doing what we were doing….I mean…yeah IDK.

I don’t remember what I said to him, that first time, but we had sex for like….2 minutes, then he lost whatever erection he’d managed to maintain. Then there was some REAL awkward getting dressed, made all the more awkward when he started touching and kissing me. I mean I wanted him to, but  I was also like…uuhhhh didn’t you just COMPLETELY puss out on me? I mean cmon. This is a frustrating situation, right?

So he left. We had a few more awkward sexual encounters at my apartment. Once, I recall donning a full lingerie outfit for him, one I’d specifically bought with the idea of seducing him. It was the most effort I ever put into getting a guy to bone before.

Now, looking back, I see how fucking pathetic I was. I really do. But, honestly, it wasn’t coming from a bad place. I liked Doug. I always had. I’d always been pretty up front with the fact that I liked him. Of course I wanted to sleep with him. I don’t mean to dwell on physical attributes, but this guy had a great dick. I mean just one of the ones that makes you want to put up with ALL their annoying/bad behavior (I had a similar issue, years later, with R). I really just did want to like be with him. But, at time went on, things got ABUNDANTLY obvious that nothing like that would ever happen.

What bothered me the most about all of this was that I couldn’t see WHY he wouldn’t be into me. I mean, like really….it confused me. It still kind of does. I still feel like I’m a solid catch. People should feel that way about themselves AND their significant other. I jokingly seriously told my husband his ability to grow good smoke put another huge one in the PLUS column. He needed another one over there. The other giant one is quit drinking for me. That’s pretty huge. But anyway back to someone who my husband reminded me of and that’s why I at first showed almost aggressive interest in my husband because I was like omg what if this is another Doug I can’t let this get all fucked and ruined somehow like that did. I have never told my husband this. But really if anything he should be grateful Doug was so shitty to me, I guess I deserved it?, because it made me REALLY cling to my husband when I met him. And look how that worked out…after like…7 shitty years….but anyway.

Two memories of Doug that stand out most to me. One good and one bad.

The good one. It was the winter when I was 20. He messaged me on AIM and texted me about hanging out (it was a Sunday night) which must have meant he was really in the mood, because hanging out almost definitely meant we’d bang, at this exact point in our situation.
I drove out to his house (his garage specifically, though to class it up a little, his garage was a makeshift den) which was a long, perilous drive in the winter. We pretty much got right down to it, but I remember sitting next to him on his couch, beneath a few blankets because it was the winter and it was a garage wondering how long he would wait to make the first move. It was awhile.
But that sex was the best. It was kind of like cliche movie sex in the sense that it took place transitioning from like five different positions and ended with him “unknowingly” coming inside me (condom broke….he acted like he didn’t notice until after we were done…but he kind of acted like things sure felt different…if you get my drift). Nothing happened, I was on the pill. But yeah the sex in his garage was the best.
My bad memory of him was almost that same winter. Everyone in the tri-county area was dry (as far as weed goes), but I managed to get some from a coworker who had ties with some dealer.
Doug found out I had weed, and could get more, via a random AIM conversation, which we had from time to time. He was also definitely hanging out with other girls as well by this point (it was easy to find out about back then, on social media). He makes plans with me faster than he’d ever done so in the past, and arranges to get $60 worth. I get his amount and mine from my coworker, and have it parceled out ($120 split evenly into 2 bags). Then, when he gets to my place to “hang out” (clearly only happening because I can get him weed) he hands me $40. And I was still too into him, I didn’t want to subtract what I could eyeball to be a third of what he was getting, but that’s what I should have done. but I didn’t want to be awkward or look like a bitch, so I just ate the financial loss. World of good it did me.

Then, we had sex I think once after i moved from that apartment into the house i was renting with a friend when I met my husband.

Truth be told, I was a total cunt to Doug via text like two different times. Both resultant of adderoll/alcohol/nicotine abuse, but I never told him that. Why? Would it really make a difference? Also he kind of deserved it.

Then, years after all that, after my husband and I moved downstate, his band was playing at a venue nearby and we went. He seemed happy enough to see me.

We did that a few other times, his band travels around the state quite a bit. I doubt they’ll ever amount to much, but anyway.

But then one time, I saw on Facebook that he was playing at a venue VERY near my house, so I proposed he stop by either before or after the show and smoke with us. Keep in mind, whenever we saw him at a show of his he always said something about how we should get together and smoke down. All of us still love weed. What a shock. It’s almost like weed’s the best.

But then the night of that show, after I’d already contacted Doug and he’d seemed like he wanted to do exactly what I proposed, I fell asleep on the couch and when my husband finally got home he couldn’t rouse me. But then Doug never contacted me either.

And then, THEN, I was like….ohhhhhhhhhh The slow realization of it all dawned on me.

He probably kind of hates me.

He strikes me as one of those guys who never gets over a slight.
But he’s also like a genuinely nice guy (when he’s not sexually entangled with you) so he always acted like he was happy to see me. Because it’s easier than being an asshole, it really is. I get him there.

I just feel like a total idiot, because I probably always came off as some clingy psycho.

Or at least, that’s how he treated me. And made me feel. I guess you’re not supposed to blame you emotions on other people…but seriously….

But now, I’m really trying to focus on the idea of Remembering the Lesson, not the Memory. It’s a smart idea to live by.

Truth be told, I always liked Doug. But, I can see why on his side he probably can’t stand me. So I just kind of feel bad, like just have the balls to tell me you don’t like me. I’m used to being mistreated so I like…don’t know what to do with it sometimes. Or i put up with it because I know I can.

Like, okay some of the insufferable shit I’ve done to him? In 2015, when I was strung out as fucking fuck on alcohol (this is when things started with R), I texted him about the whole situation. This was also the year I stopped speaking to and seeing my parents, ever. I was THAT sad and lonely and desperate, I texted Doug. I’m sure it must have pained him to sound sympathetic, when he probably thought I was getting what I deserved for being a crazy bitch. Or something. IDK. I’m trying to see it through his perspective but I find I can’t. Which is odd, because I can do that with most people.

But in some way I’m kind of proud of myself that I bothered to reach out to anyone. The fact that that two people I tried talking to more or less just rejected me, it reminded me of who I am. Things like that happened the few times I tried telling adults about what was happening. Do you realize how hard that is, for a child in that situation? If that doesn’t warp you, what the fuck will?
Being reminded of who I am came slowly, though. It wasn’t until I really accepted to myself that R was a complete human disaster and a waste of my time and energy and a drain on every part of me. I mean I’d always known that, but I also at one point had a good time with him, so it was hard to completely reject.

But now, I think about this habit I had/have where I’m like almost infatuated with the situation if I’m being treated like shit.

Like at almost 30 I’m just not getting to the point where that’s not the norm.

So anyway, that’s Doug. I hope he’s doing well. In some way I’d like to apologize for annoying him with my attention. I should have given it to someone smart enough to appreciate it.

~Cassie

Real quick though – don’t let the weather influence your mood…it’s the weather

Where I live, it’s been raining nonstop the past few days, and now the temperature keeps dancing just below freezing enough to freeze rain as it falls. Everything is covered in this really neat glass-like coating:

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Isn’t that cool looking? And EVERYTHING is covered in ice like that. I only went outside because I had pole class today. There was only 1 other student, and there’s always 2 instructors, so there was an even number of students and teachers, so that’s always cool. I guess some people stayed home because of the weather. I for one was outside scraping my car in gym booty shorts because I was not about to miss pole class. It’s once a week as it is. I have a pole at home, but having an experienced instructor is SO crucial. The pole videos on youtube aren’t my thing, and none of them include a warm up… but anyway

 

Isn’t nature doing cool shit right now? Although today is a day that I am even more grateful than normal that I’m not on social media. I would be wasting so much time scrolling through everyone I know whining about the weather, talking about how they thought it was the middle of April…not January….bleh bleh bleh. I can’t stand whining. And I don’t know, I guess I’m such sturdy German stock, and I’m from such a dismal cold weather state…it just doesn’t faze me. If anything I kind of find it exhilarating. Plus, like I pointed out, it looks awesome.

So, my weekend was fairly normal, pole class on Sunday, whole lot of writing and house stuff on Saturday.

But this week is extra fucking special. I go in tomorrow and Tuesday to work like normal, but then I’m off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. AND, as an extra fun bonus, my best friend (yes, the one I always talk about) is flying in on the morning of the 19th and is leaving my place to visit her mom on the morning of the 21st. She and I haven’t hung out for that long in a row since I spent a weekend at her place in Chicago two summers ago. Then before that it’d been the wedding. Usually we see each other a few hours when she passes through on her way to visit her parents. So this is extra freaking thrilling. I’m off of work 5 days in a row, and two of those I’ll be hanging out with my best friend. So I’m really excited about that. Now I’m going to have spend all of Wednesday cleaning my house so I’m not embarrassed by the state of it while she’s here, but other than that, this is going to be tight. Then…of course, I turn 30 on Friday…yikes.

I have a few things planned, like there’s a brewery by me that I’ve always wanted to try, and a breakfast place that’s always too busy on the weekends but is supposed to be legendary. There’s two different book stores I’ve always wanted to check out. Also one of the nights, probably Friday night, I want to go to a gay video bar in a downtown near me that I’ve been to before. Gay bars are the best. The dudes are usually nice, or at most just ignore you. No one is all rapey or gropey on the dance floor,  but they’ll still totally dance with you. Some of them buy you drinks because you’re like…there and a girl or something….idk it’s a great time. And they always have like softcore porn playing on a few different screens. It’s fantastic. So hopefully we can do that too.

Hopefully she doesn’t want to go shopping. I hate shopping. Don’t get me wrong I like having the stuff I get from shopping…but I don’t like being in stores. I wonder why….

 

So, this will be a fun work week because it’s so short. Then, fun long weekend.

Then, hopefully, Shakespeare Behind Bars just a few weeks after that.

Besides pole dancing, I haven’t done anything fun in quite a awhile, because we couldn’t afford to do anything, so this will be cool.

Anyway, sorry to anyone having to witness weather-whiners on social media. Big peeve of mine.

 

Peace

 

~Cassie

I should be editing, but here I am on effing WordPress

Not complaining, just kind of annoyed with how my mind works. I was all pissy last weekend because the holiday ruined my ability to get any writing done OR go to pole class, so that was a bummer. (Speaking of pole – I now have one installed in my living room! I am SURE I will post pictures later, but this is going to be a more depressing blog, because, IDK it’s been awhile, I’m not just sex stories and weird shit and selfies and pot and pole dancing and writing a weird sex novel. I mean in large part that is a bunch of my personality, but that is definitely not all. I’m also severely addicted to caffeine, but that, to me, is almost like a wholesome addiction, given what I’ve done in the past) But now instead of using my entirely free Saturday to input on-paper edits (the ones I do in my car, that I KNOW you remember from my other post WordPress is clearly for selfies)

But, instead I got like a little too high, now I’m like lost in thought and it’s hard to read TINY print. Why did I use 12 size font. I mean I know why, it’s so I can be arrogant about it. But I’m still annoyed.

Okay I thought of what my worst trait is. It’s actually not the many, sundry emotional problems, it’s my inability to manage fucking money. Like. I’m very confused as to what I’ve been doing wrong, but I clearly an see that it’s something. It’s kind of my special brand of pathetic, but sometimes I mentally console myself with the idea that it’s probably for the best I’m not pregnant yet, because we really don’t have the money. But, on the other hand, I really don’t think I should let the fear of debt stop me. I didn’t with school, and now look where I am. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am so significantly happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. To be honest, things weren’t really all that good with my husband until we both stopped drinking…and that was only like two years ago, and we’ve been together for 9 (in July).

I just feel like if I could somehow not be in debt and actually like have my shit together enough to own a house and a car that isn’t ten years old. But whatever, my car from 2008 still runs fine, and it was a gift from my Grandma, she just paid outright for it, with a check. And, if I did get pregnant, my mother in law already offered to pay for our day care, because she didn’t want fear of not having money to stop us from having kids, because we’d be great parents.

So that’s what I actually wanted to write about. Did you catch that I just described too monumentally generous older women in my life? Like. I mean. Sometimes you have to see God where you can, right? And I’ve had two great trading-outs in my life. One was when my best friend moved from our hometown to a city about two hours away to attend state school. I knew she was leaving, and about two months before she left I met my future husband, indirectly through my best friend. Then, pretty shortly after we met, we were dating, and I met my future mother in law. My Grandma died when I was 23, I think. Right after her 93rd birthday. I’ll be honest, at this point in my life I was just finished with undergrad and had a really severe drinking and adderoll and cigarette issue. I was so damn skinny. God I miss that. But not the other parts. And, the day she died, I was really strung out and fucked up, and when my mom called to tell me what happened (we’d all been expecting it….in fact, the reason I didn’t go see my Grandma right before she died is because I didn’t believe my POS dad when he told me she was dying because he’d literally said that about 40 times before in the past three years. My mom was always so disgusted with him during any of those given times, as my Grandma’s health got worse and she went from in-home care to a nursing home to a memory care nursing home, because he would seem downright excited) she didn’t ask me to come over. And I was glad, because my car had a flat tire and my then boyfriend and I were too drunk to deal with it.
Well, as you can tell, all of those were wrong moves. i see that, but you’ve got to understand a few things, this is MY family. not a stable, normal, functional family. And, I don’t know, I can’t remember exactly, but this was either right before or right after the FIRST time I tried not speaking to my dad. I know it was during the three year stretch we lived at this white trash apartment complex behind the mall in my husband’s hometown. I am currently in the midst of my second and actual attempt at cutting all ties with him.

So  I do find it interesting when my best friend and my husband like traded out, like almost in a comically obvious fashion. Then, my whole childhood, the only reason I ever had anything extra (so, things beyond the minimal amount of clothing necessary to live and a place to live and food to eat and being sent to school) had to come from my Grandma. She paid for all for my homecoming and prom dresses. She bought me a computer when I was in high school…you know…the one my dad threatened to destroy with a hatchet, mostly out of infantile jealousy?
Then, when my Grandma was in a very expensive nursing home and all of her money was gone and she had to move to a few different shitty ones at the end of her life, I met my husband’s mom. Because he lived at home when we met, I actually met his parents like the second time I ever hung out with him. I remember quite distinctly that his dad was delighted with the idea that I’d gone to a Lutheran high school. I was like…well…guess I get some benefit out of that awful experience.

And  my mother in law has been my sole source of clothing and shoes, for the most part, since I’ve met her. She routinely takes my husband and I on a big shopping trip, usually about twice a year. Last time, there were 6 new pairs of shoes. Other times, it’s a new batch of work clothing. She’s unbelievably generous. I was raised way too white trash to be that kind of generous, with people I know, myself. I have a few charities in mind for if I ever make real money as a writer. I mean it’s possible. There’s a vacuum I can fill, I just know it. But anyway.

I’m not trying to brag, obviously. That is literally never my goal. I mean when I try and talk about things i like about myself or my life, it’s really me doing everything I can to not be negative or depressive or complain or whine. Because I seriously fucking hate it when other people do those things.

Which brings me to my favorite charities, as of right now – There’s Free the Girls. They enable women in developing nations (like I know Guatemala was one of them…then I think definitely also some in Africa? I don’t feel like fact-checking) who have been rescued from sex trafficking to run their own business. Women in this country donate bras, and the other women sell them. I cannot explain to you why, but there’s this one like info-mercial about FTG and it ALWAYS makes me cry. A lot. Thinking about it makes me cry. I literally do not understand this trigger, but I really am aware of it.

And the other is called Shakespeare Behind Bars. I get annoyed when I tell people about it, because the name makes most idiots laugh. But it’s a program that has inmates in male prisons put on productions of Shakespeare once a year. It’s open to the public, in the sense that you can apply for a ticket and undergo a background check and attend if there’s enough space. My husband and I are going this year. I got the email that enrollment was open, and they’re doing A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream this year, and I was like meeehhhhh I really want to go, to my husband, and he was like…well we can probably make it happen…. So fuck it why not.

Which I guess that ties in with my first stated issue of knowing my worst flaw is how bad I am with money. Because if I have one element to my personality, it’s a total “fuck it” vibe towards spending money. I mean that’s why we’re trying to have a kid, despite our sort-of financial dependence on his parents. Which feels insane that that even has to happen, because we make a collective $40,000 ish last year. Does that NOT sound like enough for two people to live on? But no, seriously, it’s not somehow. IDK. I’m aware you can pay for advice on this sort of thing. We have Quicken once, I did not like using it. All it did was point out where we spent all of our money. Like I know, I just feel like I can’t control it from happening.

But, anyway. We’re growing our own green now. I’d post pictures, but I don’t want to make anyone jealous. It’s a very small grow, obviously, because our rented house is tiny. Renting a 3 bedroom where we live is $910 a month. Do you realize what kind of mortgage payment that would be? BUT, what are we supposed to do, pull a down payment out of nowhere? We can’t ask his parents for THAT kind of $$, we already ask for enough, on top of the things they give us on their own, which is a lot. It’s ALWAYS been a make enough to just get  by situation. And now, it’s been years since we stopped wasting a ton on beer, and booze, and cigarettes, and I constantly drank soda, like I would stop at a convenience store a few times a day for one. So disgusting. Now I’m all about black coffee and La Croix, because I’m old and need to watch calories. But anyway.  AND we’ve gotten WAY better at not eating out, or getting fast food. We almost always eat dinner at home, with things purchased from a grocery store. I’m gotten VERY good at feeding us cheaply, but still pretty healthily. Speaking of health, I’ve FINALLY started losing weight. I’m sure I’ve mentioned a few dozen times how my old drinking habits did not mix well when I finally got a desk job. I gained at least 30 pounds that first year. It was terrible. Again, I’m lucky my mother in law buys me clothing, because I went through a huge fluctuation from my earlier years of shopping with her. But, I am finally starting to lose that weight.

TO that end, like i said at the beginning, yes, we have a stripper pole now, okay, I cannot resist a pic, especially since the living room gets good morning light. IMG_9251

Yeah, we had to put it in our living room because that’s the only spot with the most space.

And guess what. My husband was INSTANTLY really good at pole. He can climb, already. He could do every spin I could remember how to show him. It’s because he’s so obsessed with pull ups, and doing shit like climbing trees or brick walls for fun. Pole is pretty much a rope to climb, but you can have a lot more fun with it. He can’t Iron-X off the bat but he’ll get there, I’m sure. I’m so jealous. Like if he went to class, he would show me up so hard on his first day. He really likes it, which I find funny.

So, IDK, maybe we’ll move back up north and open a pole studio. He DID take eight years of dance class. If I was working full time at a regular job and insuring us, I think we could handle running the studio. If it was profitable enough, we could both work there full time. I just know this whole situation we’ve got going on right now is kind of lame. Plus my husband has always struggled so much with finding a well-paying job that he doesn’t detest.

So maybe I’ll be writing a novel and dedicating a lot of time to pole fitness. There’s enough tutorials online, and now I have a pole at home, and a really in shape spotter.

That’s one thing…his job right now is really grueling, and it involves 4 months of being laid off in the winter, but he is SO cut from it. Like it’s weird being like…wow, that’s my husband’s body. He’s getting like PERFECT ab definition. It’s not fucking shock he’s so good at pole, right away, like first time he tried. And I mean, he was just rail-skinny when we met, then he got REALLY overweight for awhile there. He trimmed down for the wedding but I remember the picture of him from the night he proposed his face looked faaaaaat. I’m not being mean, I would totally say that to him and he wouldn’t be offended. He knew how big he’d gotten. And I mean, the way he is now is obviously nicer. What can I say. But now I’m like….thank God I’m so facially attractive, or people might wonder why he and I are together when we’re out in public.

But anyway, I’ve wasted quite enough time on this.

Hope all of you are doing well.

 

~Cassie