Island Vacation: The Real Deal

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I won’t dwell too much on my vacation, but it was wonderful. I overcame my fear of scuba diving and ended up seeing a lot of really cool animals. Studly and I went to a luau and danced under the stars, we enjoyed it so much that our last night on Maui he found a secluded beach and we danced as the sun set.

He drove the road to Hana and I somehow got us back in one piece. I think Studly may have damaged his heart with the anxiety attacks he kept having while I drove.

The only downer on the trip was a call I gave RockStar to check in as he house and cat-sat Sam. He mentioned having brought his own blanket and I yelled at him, since it was a yarn blanket and we all know how much she loves to eat those.

She ended up being fine, and my trip was magical.

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Parasites Are How You Show You Care

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Once you read the post this title will totally make sense but when I reread it I wondered if you would think I was pregnant. So just to clarify, I am NOT pregnant. My uterus is completely empty of any small people/parasites. Just in case you spend your time thinking about the state of my uterus. Onward to the story!

While Studly was recovering from his recent knee surgery and was staying with me, I noticed a rash on his arm. He’s allergic to a number of things – dust, cats, mold…I never clean my house and Sam the Cat is here to stay. We figured it was an allergy flare up and I vacuumed a bit. A few days later while helping him get boxers on over his bandaged leg, I noticed the rash had spread to his groin.

With an uneasy look at his hip, Studly said, “Um, I’m sure it’s fine.”

I raised my eyebrows imperiously (I’ve always wanted to raise my eyebrows imperiously – it just sounds so classy and commanding!) and pointed to the front door, “Car. Now.” After he hobbled downstairs I drove him to the doctor.

We’ve been dating for a while, are exclusive and have had a few talks about the future but I wasn’t sure he wanted me to go into the exam room with him. If it were my doctor I would say yes, he can join me. Unless it’s a lady parts doctor, in which case park your ass in the waiting room. You may get to see my lady bits, but normally in a setting with soft light and seductive sheets, not florescent lights and paper gowns. Keep the romance alive!

So before his name was called, I softly whispered, “Do you want me to go in with you? If not, it’s ok.”

He gave me a look like I was crazy and asked me to go with him. I guess if you’re willing to share your Facebook password and bank account information a little visit to the doctor about a groin rash isn’t even a blip on the radar. To clarify, he has shared that information. I would never use that against him. I, on the other hand, prefer to keep both of those things to myself.

We were called into the patient room and the nurse asked some routine questions. After stating that the rash had spread to his groin, the nurse actually physically moved away from Studly and quickly exited the room. We took it as a bad sign.

By the time the doctor came in, Studly’s face was strained and he was convinced he had some incurable disease. I think he was particularly worried since the rash was so close to his man-parts. After a brief exam the doctor nodded to himself and gave the diagnosis. “It’s scabies.” He proclaimed.

What is scabies? Basically they are teeny tiny little bugs you can’t see that lay their eggs in your skin. Gross, right? Right before his surgery Studly had been across the country for work and stayed in this hotel that had seemed less than stellar at the time. According to the doctor, the timing was right for having gotten the parasites from that hotel. Although he couldn’t really confirm it. Way to cover your ass.

I can haz home in ur skin
Almost like an LOL Cat…but not

“I wonder if I can claim worker’s compensation…” Studly mused, extending his hand for the prescription.

“Hold on.” I said, wondering why the hell no one was talking about this further. “What about me? I’ve been sleeping with him since he came back from the hotel. Am I at risk?”

The doctor asked some cursory questions like, “Do you have a rash?” and at my “Um, no. Would have mentioned it if I did.” He said that if I didn’t have it by now, I probably wouldn’t get it. “You probably just have thick skin.” He said with a smile.

That sounded really wrong. Not like I was insulted that he implied that my skin is tough like an Armadillo and not soft and delicate (ok, maybe I’m a little miffed about that), but it sounded incorrect. I have HORRIBLE skin. I have allergies and break out into hives at the smallest thing. I’ve had pityriasis three times in my life. That’s a disease that usually strikes once, if ever. My skin is extremely sensitive to light and to tempurature. I get nasty bruises just from a light hickey, remember? But I’m immune to bugs that dig into your skin. Right.

“What about Sam the Cat?” I asked, hoping against hope that I didn’t need to take her to a Vet.

The scabies killed Sam the Cat
Not really, just fucking with you.

“You have a pet?” He asked, surprised. Shouldn’t these be standard questions? “Your pet cannot get scabies, but they can be a carrier. Your animal will need to be bathed.” I suddenly pictured the last time I had to hunt Sam the Cat down and stuff her into her carrier to take her to the groomers. It was a nightmare. Studly took the prescription and we started planning the rest of our day. I made an appointment with the groomer for Sam, we got tons of quarters so we could wash everything and we headed home to catch Sam.

In a bit of luck, we discovered Sam the Cat lounging on the couch in a patch of sunlight. I quietly closed all of the doors she could use to escape while Studly got the cat carrier out. She lazily opened one eye and suddenly realized something was wrong. She’s only recently come to trust Studly, so it must have been quite a shock for her new favorite person to turn on her and try to catch her. While shrieking and running away, I finally managed to grab her only to have her pee all over me and I accidentally let her go. Luckily we were in the kitchen which is tiled, so it was easily cleaned up.

Finally, she gave up and let Studly catch her and stuff her into her carrier. He locked the door and gave a sigh, throwing himself onto the floor next to her where she was screaming like a banshee. After cleaning up the cat pee we got into my car and started driving. Then things got much worse, because while she was screaming I could say this was what was best for her, but then she changed tactics. Rather than yell, she began to cry. Piteously. Softly. Incessantly. It sounded like I had broken her heart. Suddenly I pictured all of the good times Sam and I had – the time I was sick and stuck at home and she never left my side. In the middle of the night when I heard a noise and she jogged over to my side of the bed to snuggle. Eating ice cream and watching X-Files together. How she waits outside of the shower for me every morning, licking her little paws and rubbing at her face like she’s getting ready for the day along with me. Licking my hand for the first time, almost like saying, “I love you, Zoogie2.

I wondered what she thought was going on. A nasty thought crossed my mind: is this is how it happened to her before, the times she’s been returned to the shelter? Did they drive her and just leave her there with no goodbye? Does she assume that’s what’s happening now? Does she think I’m abandoning her? And just like that I started to cry – because I was breaking Sam’s heart and she wasn’t able to understand why I was doing this to her.

Suddenly Studly was confronted with two sobbing females and he awkwardly tried to comfort me as we drove to the groomer. We dropped her off and I emotionally limped back to the car. Studly hung his head, later saying he felt worse about upsetting Sam and I than about the tiny bugs living in his dermis. How sweet!

We spent the afternoon washing every single item in my home that could go through a washer and dryer. After what seemed like an eternity, I went to pick Sam up. I held Studly’s hand as the Petco woman reached into the cage to pull her out and knew my kitten was going to be just fine when I hear her scream of rage and saw her ineffectually bat at the woman. The employee sighed and drew on thick gloves, but when she tried to drag Sam out by her waist, Sam held onto the sides of the cage with her little paws, screeching the whole time. Ah, my beautiful hellcat.

The drive home was silence from the backseat and I worried she would never forgive me when I let her out. She must have had a drop of pity in her soul,  because after bounding away from me with a glare she looked back. I felt so terrible that my head was hanging and I whispered, “I’m sorry, Sam.” She reluctantly scampered back to me just long enough to pet her before disappearing under the bed.

A few hours later I was Googling scabies and I looked over at the kitchen. Studly had just finished washing our dinner dishes and was playing with Sam the Cat before feeding her. As he tickled her belly and scratched her chin, I realized I’d never seen Sam take to anyone so quickly, aside from me. She playfully batted at his hands and purred her pleasure. I looked back at the screen and saw pictures of bugs; bugs that had infested my house, my pet and my boyfriend. Not once during the day had this bothered me. I remember an infestation occurring with some of my friends in high school and when I found out I hadn’t touched them for weeks even thought I knew intellectually that they weren’t contagious. Not once had I hesitated to touch Studly throughout the day. He had miserably apologized a few times and said he felt disgusting and I had easily hugged him and told him it would be OK. Where was my disgust?

Then with dawning horror I realized that it didn’t bother me because I cared more about Studly than about bugs literally burrowing into my skin. That I loved this man. It took a parasite to make me see it, but I love Studly. I was so shocked I spent the next few hours quietly musing on my realization. This in turn led Studly to suspect that I actually did find him disgusting.

“You’re so quiet, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” He demanded, worry in his eyes. I thought about how to tell him how I feel. He watched me taste the words, convinced that I would say that I didn’t want him to spend the night.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I cautioned him, “but I think I love you.”

He relaxed. “Oh. I love you too.” He said, as if it was something we’d said a million times before.

After covering his entire body with a cream, we went to sleep in each other’s arms. I’ll stop the mushiness now. When I woke up, I absentmindedly scratched my arm and Studly grabbed my hand to inspect my wrist. Two little rashes had appeared overnight. Motherfucker.

So I hauled myself to my doctor and got a lecture about scabies. It turns out that I should have undergone the treatment with Studly the night before to ensure that I wasn’t a carrier with no visible symptoms. It can take two weeks for the rashes to form. Mofo! If I hadn’t come in, I could have re-contaminated him AND Sam the Cat. Great.

After accepting a prescription, I was diagnosed with…hives. I didn’t have scabies at all (and never had any sign of them); I got hives from the shampoo they used on Sam the Cat. We underwent the second treatment together and he’s slowly losing his rash. I guess in a way it was fortuitous, since it made me realize my feelings. But really, I could have done without the bugs, washing Sam and massive amounts of laundry.

SlipNSlide’s Tantrum

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Ever since SlipNSlide admitted having feelings for my boyfriend, we haven’t really spoken. But since she is my brother’s girlfriend and my boyfriend’s best friend (when the fuck did I fall into an episode of Days of Our Lives?), I’m still invited to her birthday. Studly and I jointly gave money to RockStar to buy her a laptop and I wrote her a card from us. Studly also arranged for an additional small gift for her from him as well as helping clean her whole house and yard in anticipation for the party.

I showed up after work and it was clear almost everyone had been drinking for a while. I won’t go into too much detail but my ex-boyfriend Pretentious Author’s brother was there. Joy! He’s convinced I’m still in love with Pretentious Author and just too pathetic to move on. Even though PA got married…and had a kid…and is writing a book about his sexual exploits…and is clearly a jerk. Even after meeting Studly, the brother still seemed to think it was all a set up, but maybe that’s because he was totally trashed.

One thing that SlipNSlide wanted was a big stick that lit on fire for her to twirl around. She’s learning to be a fire dancer, which is actually pretty cool. Studly decided to buy a broom as a gift just from him and detach the head, so she would think that the stick was her fire stick. Then we would pull out the fire stick her sister bought her. Not the best idea when someone is drunk. She opened the broom and started screeching about how mean it was. Even when given the actual fire stick, she was still pissed about the broom and no one would let her light the damn thing because we were convinced if she breathed on it she would go up in flames.

I stayed just long enough for her to open her laptop and watch her mouth form the words, “It’s not an iPad“. At that point I was sober (I have no idea why I volunteered to be designated driver, I should have started drinking and made Studly drive) and I was completely done with her. I mostly avoided SlipNSlide, helping my mom to play beer pong for the first time and then watching her kick ass at Quarters. In her words, “I knew I learned something useful in college!”

Essential items for my mom in college…

Finally Studly came up to me and said he was tired and really drunk. We started saying goodbye to everyone and I realized the birthday girl was missing. We eventually discovered her in her bedroom trying to set up the computer alone. I gave her a quick hug goodbye and wished her a happy birthday. I left the room so that Studly and SlipNSlide could say goodbye alone.

There are some people who would find that strange or wonder why I wasn’t curious to hear what was said. It’s my belief that if you have to watch your significant other to make sure they aren’t doing something wrong or questionable, they’ll find a way to do it anyway. If you have to monitor someone, then maybe they aren’t the right person for you. If I felt that something inappropriate would be said or done after I left, I wouldn’t be with Studly. There wouldn’t be any point. And I trust that if something is said to him, he’ll tell me.

Which is exactly what he did.

Studly is one of those people who gives and gives. Those types usually find people who take and take, which is the type Studly usually dates. His last girlfriend had no job, no car, no prospects for either, relied on him entirely for everything and cheated on him frequently. He just kept giving her gifts and attention and love because he wanted to feel needed. Luckily he worked all of that out and is now with me and I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. SlipNSlide is a taker as well just like RockStar is a giver. SlipNSlide told Studly after I left that she was disappointed that he hadn’t given her an amazing gift like he had said he would. She felt like he could have done better.

Wow.

To recap: he put in money for a laptop, got her a card, a broom and cleaned her house. For his birthday she gave him…a call at midnight. After pointing all of this out to her she said, “Yeah but you promised me a good birthday and this wasn’t good.” We left shortly after that and I haven’t heard from her since. What a sense of entitlement!

People will do ANYTHING to escape my mother…

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Studly has been having knee problems and had to have surgery to remove a cyst. Sexy. I took care of him after the surgery and physically held him down a few times when he tried to sneak out of my house. He’s an active person and hates sitting around. I’m a fatass who loves TV. Not sure how we get along, but it’s working so far.

I’ve met his family and see him mom fairly often; he lives with his mom since renting his own place when he’s off traveling all of the time is a waste of money. He’s met my mother twice (not that I blame him for avoiding her like the plague). While Studly was recovering from surgery at my house my mom decided to hold an informal dinner party and invited us. Since Studly can’t drive and is completely dependent on me, he capitulated and agreed to go to dinner.

A few hours before the party I noticed his leg as bleeding a little bit, but we re-bandaged it and the bleeding stopped. He insisted on buying chocolates for the party and nervously tugged on his collar the whole way to Mom’s. It’s cute watching the sacrificial lamb sweat before the lioness rips it apart.

Look how happy he is before seeing my mother. I’d show the “after” picture but it’s gruesome…

Once we were there he started drinking. My mom was sitting right next to him interrogating him about his life plans, family and 401K returns. I usually end up drinking around her too, but decided that I could get through it sober if he needed to knock back a six-pack of beer to put up with her craziness. After a particularly awkward question (so, how many grandchildren am I getting?), Studly asked me where the bathroom was. I gave him directions and went back to small talk and hor d’oeuvres.

We chatted.

And chatted.

And chatted.

And Studly never came back. After over half and hour I began to worry. Maybe the toilet backed up and he was desperately staring at the overflowing water? Or perhaps he had a hemorrhoid flare up and was in agony right now? Maybe he shimmied out the tiny window into the backyard and was trying to escape at this very moment. After all, it’s a dinner with my parents; something is bound to go wrong.

Finally he came out and I couldn’t help but notice that he was limping. At my questioning look he asked where the paper towels and hydrogen peroxide were. Then he pointed to the floor where a noticeable blood stain was soaking into the carpet and my eyes followed the trail of blood leading to the bathroom.

“You cut open your own leg to avoid my mom?” I shouted, eyes wide. “That’s so…ingenious!” Everyone at the table tittered but seriously, I wish I’d thought of it years ago.

“No!” Studly retorted, eyeing the hurt look on my mom’s face. “I think one of my stitches ripped.”

“A likely story.” I muttered, getting up to look at his leg.

When I was within whisper-distance he hissed, “Oh god, I’ve fucked tonight up. I bled all over the bathroom and it took forever to clean. I think I stained the carpet.” He turned a sickly looking green, “Your mom hates me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, if you knew half of the shit that has been on this floor…Harley’s dog actually shit all over this floor. At least we won’t get E.Coli from the bodily fluids you left.” For some reason Studly didn’t think this was funny which is shocking since he had been drinking and I hadn’t.

After forcing him to sit down and elevate his leg, Mom and I started cleaning up. She grabbed my arm to pull me close and muttered, “Where did he get the bandages for his leg?”

“Um, I had some old ones in the medicine cabinet. He said he couldn’t find any under the sink.” Mom barely stifled a shriek.

“He looked under the sink?!”

“That’s what I said.” I answered testily as I scrubbed my boyfriend’s blood off of the floor. I always imagined this moment would only occur after I’d disposed of the body, but I guess life is unpredictable.

Mom grabbed my arm, “We had that leak a few months ago and we never cleaned. There’s mold under there!”

I shrugged. “Mom, calm down. It’s not like the bandages were under the sink. They aren’t moldy.”

“Who cares about that? He’ll think we’re trashy and dirty!”

“He’s more concerned about bleeding to death than he is about a little mold. No one is judging you. And I’d prefer not to become an orphan, so please remove the toxic mold. Thanks.”

“You think he’s judging me!?”

“Great, that’s the message you hear.”

We ended up making it through dinner and everyone was sufficiently charmed by Studly. After I drove us back to my place he collapsed into bed and groaned that he never wanted to do that again. Now he knows how I felt ever since I exited the womb and realized this is my family.

Anytime I talk about my mom to Studly, he asks if I think she hates him for bleeding like some sort of macabre fountain all over her house. Anytime I mention Studly to Mom she asks if he’s mentioned anything about the mold. What kind of fucked up Twilight Zone is this?

Zumanity Can Help Your Sex Life

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Studly and I took a short trip to Las Vegas a few weeks ago and while we were there we decided to see a show. Individually we have seen a few of the shows – Blue Man Group, Mystere, O, Ka…so we wanted to see one neither of us have seen and Zumanity looked sexy.

He surprised me with front row tickets and I was practically boucing in my seat to see it. OMG guys – it’s fricken awesome! Aside from all of the cool individual acts like two women doing crazy stuff in a large fish bowl, it had just the right mix of comedy skits and impressive acrobatic segments. The comedy was mostly a couple who engaged the audience and joked around with them. Toward the beginning they asked Studly and I some questions like how long we had been together and then the guy challenged Studly to a sword fight…with gigantic dildos. Always a fun way to start your evening!

During one of the acts they went around “helping” couples get closer together. For us, they stuck my hand on Studly’s crotch. Well, that’s one way to help I suppose! We must have had the best spot in the house because they talked to us a few times throughout the show. At the end they have a fake orgy on stage where everyone is half- or mostly-naked.

We walked back to the hotel and Studly seemed very enthused to go back to the room. So enthusiastic that he threw me over his shoulder and ran us back to the room after we got off the elevator because my heels were killing my feet. It was a loooooooooooooooong night, in a good way. I think I need to thank Zumanity. SERIOUSLY. Thank you. THANK YOU!

Love life feeling sluggish and you can make it to Vegas? GO TO ZUMANITY. NOW.

How I Met Your…Uh…Father?

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I hope I don’t have kids anytime soon to tell this story to. I mentioned previously that I had a massive allergic reaction to a virus, leaving me weak, pathetic and a bit skinnier. I call it the I-can’t-breath-so-I-can’t-eat diet – it’s very effective. For a while I was recovering and wasn’t cleared to go back to work and due to my medications I couldn’t drive either. Stuck at home with nothing to do was driving me crazy, so SlipNSlide invited me to go with her to visit her friend who lived two hours away.

Given my lack of choices I hopped into her car, not caring that I was crashing her afternoon plans. I really just wanted something, anything! to do. We went shopping and goofed around; he was cute but not really my type. They introduced me to geocaching and we ended up spending hours on our phones running around trying to find caches. If you haven’t cached, I highly recommend it!

When we left, SlipNSlide asked what I thought and I sleepily answered that he was cute. Two weeks later she convinced me to go to a festival in his town, he had a friend working there and was able to get us in for free. I wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with my medication but I ignored that little fact and ended up making out with him on the dance floor. For me, it was just a fun afternoon with a nice looking guy. The next thing I knew we were talking constantly and he never hesitated to make the two hour drive to see me. He frequently surprised me with little things – from flowers to fixing my car or letting me call him when my insomnia went into hyper drive.

Don’t get me wrong, things aren’t perfect; and our relationship was tested very early on. But that’s a post for another day (Check back for an update about how I almost lost Studly to another woman right after I met him – one of my best friends no less…)

Drugged Up

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About six months ago I went to my dentist for a regular cleaning. While sitting in the chair, I somehow mouthed around the utensils that I wanted my teeth checked for cavities.

Hygienist: Have you had pain?

Zoogie2: No

Hygenist: Any sort of tenderness or swelling?

Zoogie2: No

Hygienist: Um, have you increased the amount of sugar you’re consuming?

Zoogie2: No

Here’s the thing – I’ve only ever had one cavity before. When I was 13 something didn’t feel right; my mouth didn’t hurt but it didn’t feel the same. I asked my dentist at that time to check and they found a cavity. Since it was so little they were able to use sand to get rid of it. Seriously, they sprayed sand at my tooth until it disintegrated the cavity. Didn’t even hurt; that’s what I call early detection!

So I related this story to the hygienist and said my mouth didn’t hurt at all, I just had a gut feeling and it would make me feel better to have the dentist check. She told me that I would need a whole separate appointment, x-rays…the whole shebang. Since my FlexSpending money was low and things were hectic at work, my hygienist recommended scheduling it right before my next cleaning appointment.

I think we all know what a pig-headed, stubborn bitch I can be sometimes; but I easily acceded to her recommendation against my gut instinct. Why? Because I was high. I’m terribly frightened of the dentist – I had one that used to accidentally scrape my gums bloody as a child, so I tense up just thinking about getting my teeth cleaned. I love this dentist because they give me some Valium before my appointment and it’s easier on everyone – I lay there in a soft haze and they can do their jobs without me flinching and threatening to bite everyone. So I was high on Valium, which makes it so I don’t want to cause waves. I’m not me when I’m on drugs!

Long story short – I went back to the dentist six months later and they clucked and said I had a cavity, if only we had caught it sooner. That will teach me to ignore my gut feeling! A few days later they gave me a prescription for some strong relaxants to do the filling, not because of pain but because of my fear. My dentist refused to do my wisdom teeth surgery because I’d be awake and he was worried I would panic. So I went under for the surgery with an oral surgeon.

I remember taking the pills…but everything after that is fuzzy. I can’t remember them drilling or even what side the cavity was on. Everything felt hazy and almost like I was did a Jagerbomb of codeine into a vat of vodka while smoking weed and doing lines of Vicodin. In other words, I was Fucked Up. I got a ride home where I tried to do some work, but after falling asleep in an online meeting and snoring during the discussion my boss recommended that I take the rest of the day off.

So I took a small nap then woke up and made a sexy video for my boyfriend. PAUSE. Yep, that really happened, and I’m the woman who tells other people they’re idiots for doing that! Then I decided it would be a fabulous idea to go on a walk around my neighborhood and I sat on a bench in a nearby park for a while before wandering home. I woke up a few hours later to a call from Studly thanking me for the awesome video, would there be more like it? Uhhhh what video?

I watched the video, I look high and trashy and I got my arm stuck in my shirt. Keeping it classy over here!

Conclusion – I’m not sure whether I want to buy more of this stuff from the sketchy guy on the street corner or avoid it for the rest of my life.

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