tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3980751491671344802024-02-20T08:03:06.725-08:00Stupid Girls.... you're not in LOVE, you're in.... secure....Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-52755910775553183372021-01-09T19:26:00.003-08:002021-01-09T23:34:57.901-08:00Too much of everything bad.<p>Too much money. Too much fear. Too much worry. Too much doubt.</p><p>Too much talking. Too loud music. Too much wanting to eat out.</p><p>Too much candy. Too many kisses. Too many dreams. Too many wishes.</p><p>Too many plans. Too little time. Too much spontaneous. Too much wine.</p><p>Too much pain. Too many tears. Too much resentment. For too many years.</p><p>Too many questions. Too many thoughts. Too many "honey, look what I got"s.</p><p>Too many memories. Too much stuff. Too much passion. Too little tough. </p><p>Too much excitement. Too much sleep. Too little drive. Too much defeat.</p><p>Too little concentration. Too many things. Too little focus. Too many drinks.</p><p>Too many insecurities. Too many goodbyes. Too many "I'm sorry"s. Too many lies.</p><p>Too many interests. Too little drive. Too little completion. Too much wanting to die.</p><p>Too many ants. Too much thinking. Too much hurt. Too much drinking.</p><p>Too many excuses. Too much explaining. Too much going on. Too much draining.</p><p>Too many plants. Too much mess. Too many hours. Too little rest. </p><p>Too many mistakes. Too much time has passed. Too far behind. Too slow to last.</p><p>Too little motivation. Too much hanging on. Too much missing of something, Even before it's gone.</p><p>Too much desire. Too tight of a grip. Too much control. Too much cracking the whip.</p><p>Too much anxiety. Too much depression. Too much repeating the same lessons.</p><p>Too many attempts. Too little complete. Too many hurts. Too much defeat.</p><p>Too much sorrow. Too much undone. Too much confusion. Too little sun.</p><p>Too little progress. Too many tears. Too many problems, she's held onto for years.</p><p>Too many decisions. Too little thought. Way too much impulse. Too much forgot.</p><p>Too many blank stares. Too much play. Too many promises. Too much looking away.</p><p>Too many bad words. Too many late nights. Too many outbursts. Too many bad fights.</p><p>Too many upsets. Too little love. Too little of life left. </p><p>Too much, </p><p><b>I'M DONE...</b></p><p><br /></p>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-44763857829369596632011-05-27T11:37:00.000-07:002011-05-27T11:46:09.059-07:00tornado of your life.imagine waking up, one day,<div>with plans of shining bright.</div><div>but the second you start out your day,</div><div>you realize, you're as dark as night.</div><div><br /></div><div>you're like a dark rain cloud,</div><div>that everyone can see.</div><div>everyone knows it's coming,</div><div>even subconsciously.</div><div><br /></div><div>the imaginary tablet hits the bottom of the cup,</div><div>which is really the pit of my stomach,</div><div>we all watch it bubble up....</div><div><br /></div><div>it hits about as instantly,</div><div>as one can even blink....</div><div>sirens are going off,</div><div>this isn't what you think.....</div><div><br /></div><div>there's two different people battling,</div><div>but all inside of one....</div><div>she resists, she fights back....</div><div>the fuckin' damage is done....</div><div><br /></div><div>she broke their windows of protection,</div><div>she crushed their fucking dreams....</div><div>wishing everything could just be different,</div><div>but it is, just as it seems....</div><div><br /></div><div>they woke up this morning,</div><div>to the sun outside.....</div><div>the day went on, </div><div>and their mother died....</div><div>again....</div><div><br /></div><div>she died again, just like yesterday,</div><div>just like the day before, he lost his wife....</div><div>imagine if YOU were that fucking tornado</div><div>in every single person's life..... </div><div><br /></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-29616396283101557752010-09-20T11:18:00.000-07:002010-09-20T11:19:04.287-07:00when i see you.i'd like to make a switch,<div>from love to bitch.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'd like to scream in your face,</div><div>for the times you can't replace.</div><div><br /></div><div>at some point in young years,</div><div>i shedded young love tears....</div><div><br /></div><div>and grew up to realize,</div><div>that young love is real lies.</div><div><br /></div><div>for true love is secure,</div><div>my true love is pure.</div><div><br /></div><div>but from young love came my love,</div><div>and her head comes, right above,</div><div>my heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>she stands almost 5 feet tall,</div><div>her smile says it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>so forgive me when i'm pissed,</div><div>for all the times you've missed.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'd like to make a switch,</div><div>from love to bitch.</div><div><br /></div><div>because that's just how i feel,</div><div>when i see you....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-37941937096194053152010-06-16T10:56:00.000-07:002010-06-16T11:01:24.571-07:00stupid follows you.... sometimes.you know, stupid can even follow you sometimes....<div>even in your current life....</div><div>your current day to day life....</div><div><br /></div><div>there are some things,</div><div>(and my past,)</div><div>that have slightly affected the way i feel about certain things....</div><div>and my tolerance for certain things....</div><div>or my lack of tolerance for certain things....</div><div><br /></div><div>i will leave you with a bit of advice,</div><div>you put someone on a pedastal, </div><div>they are bound to disappoint you at some time or another....</div><div>it's like leaning on a broken crutch for support.</div><div>you'll fall.</div><div>therefore, i guess the moral of the story is, don't lean on anything....</div><div>not a crutch, </div><div>not a wall,</div><div>not a person,</div><div>not a chair,</div><div>not a table,</div><div>not anything</div><div>(except maybe your therapist)</div><div>because you'll fall....</div><div>at some point,</div><div>you'll fall....</div><div>and it hurts.</div><div>and you'll cry.</div><div>and you'll feel like you're dying....</div><div>and you can't blame anyone else but yourself....</div><div>but you've got to KNOW that you'll make it through that too!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>that you've made it through SOOOO many other things, you'll make it through this or that too!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>isn't it so much easier to say and BELIEVE when you're not RIGHT smack dab in the middle of it all??</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-62028011088761740522010-06-05T18:46:00.001-07:002010-06-08T14:36:35.815-07:00part 8.... the end.<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean</a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-3.html">part 3.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-4-mr-clean-featuring-bbe-big-burly.html">part 4.</a></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-5-mr-clean.html"><br /></a></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-5-mr-clean.html">part 5.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-6-mr-clean-to-move-out-or-not-to.html">part 6.</a></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/06/part-7-mr-clean-roommate-ectomy_02.html"><br /></a></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/06/part-7-mr-clean-roommate-ectomy_02.html">part 7.</a></div><div><br /></div><div>I need to wrap this up.</div><div><br /></div><div>i was working 40+ hours a week....</div><div>linedancing whenever i could.... </div><div>doing everything in my power to stay away from the house.</div><div>younger sister and i went to texas (riverwalk) and had an amazing time! (while still under the same lease as mr clean)....</div><div><br /></div><div>during that time, </div><div>mr clean packed up his stuff (and stole some of mine)</div><div>and had a few friends come help take his stuff to his new place....</div><div>i came home and THOUGHT most of the stuff was gone, </div><div>however after staying up until WEEEEEE hours of the morning moving shit over to the new place, </div><div>i quickly realized it was not anywhere close to being done.</div><div>i had to throw SO much of his shit away!!!</div><div>but some biiig stuff too. </div><div>it wasn't easy.</div><div>15 gigs of porn and i have somehow managed to remain friends after all of the years that had passed in between. </div><div>he offered to help me move shit.</div><div>i accepted. still stupid obviously.</div><div>he came over and had been drinking and wasn't much of a help, although he did help load a few boxes... i should have known he would do more harm than good. </div><div>(meaning he just slowed me down, and NOTHING else....)</div><div><br /></div><div>i remember moving shit by myself, and with some help from one of my maintenance guys (from the property i worked at)....</div><div>we seriously moved shit until 2, 3 and 4 in the morning for days.... after having worked until about 6 pm. </div><div>the parents came by one of the last days to help me.</div><div>they always come through. </div><div>very appreciative for that!!</div><div><br /></div><div>i remember the first night i stayed in the new place.... </div><div>it was beautiful....</div><div><br /></div><div>i was in heaven.</div><div>the first few nights were lonely....</div><div>but it was beautiful.</div><div>i was on the creek still....</div><div>even more enjoyable....</div><div>it was like a huge grassy backyard.... and there were frogs....</div><div>and ducks.... and beautiful night skies....</div><div>well lit....</div><div>stars everywhere....</div><div>the moon was big and bright!</div><div>i knew i could get used to this,</div><div>however, not without a few slip ups....</div><div><br /></div><div>his new place wouldn't take his dog.</div><div>so i volunteered to watch her for a few weeks....</div><div>we got into a HUGE fight, i don't even know what it was about....</div><div>but i told him he had better come get his stupid dog....</div><div>he called the cops BEFORE he even got to my house!!!!</div><div>the cops came to the apartment before he did. </div><div>i wasn't there....</div><div>he said he wasn't coming....</div><div>cops seriously called my cell phone.... threatening me that i was holding his dog hostage and blah blah blah.</div><div>REALLY?! </div><div>WHY in the FUCKING WORLD would i hold his stupid ass smelly dog hostage?? </div><div>i surely didn't want anything more to do with him....</div><div>but FUCK i was soo pissed.</div><div>i really thought it would be in my best interest not to return to the apartment with a dickface officer (hmmm, most of them are) and a dickface of an ex....</div><div>i usually don't EVER find myself upset with officers, but sometimes their damn attitude is SICKENING!!!! they act like they RULE the freakin world, and the sad thing is, is that they really kind of do! </div><div>ugh.</div><div>don't get me going off on that one....</div><div>cuz i can.... </div><div><br /></div><div>there were a few separate occasions that he has asked to spend time with me.</div><div>to go to dinner.</div><div>to come walk the dogs on the beach with him.....</div><div>i'd accepted dinner.... once.</div><div>i'd accepted the dog walking on the beach once....</div><div>until i got there....</div><div>and realized that it was NOT headed in the right direction....</div><div>all of me felt like i wouldn't want anyone in the world knowing i was there....</div><div>and as "innocent" as dogwalking could be, i knew his intention was more at that moment....</div><div>and i left....</div><div>and i went back on a few separate occasions and again left shortly after arriving...</div><div>i don't know why i kept visiting, but i did....</div><div>and NO, we weren't hooking up!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>i don't know what i had kept hoping to find....</div><div>an entirely different person there each time i went?</div><div>perhaps....</div><div>who knows....</div><div>but, i came around.... </div><div><br /></div><div>i began to stand alone....</div><div>(well, slightly leaning on my parents still).... but in my own place....</div><div>working again.</div><div>going at everything, full force.... again....</div><div><br /></div><div>and that, my dear friends, is when Jason came back into my life....</div><div>when i was standing alone (or as alone as i'd ever stand, alone) again....</div><div>when i'd least expected to find another soul in this world..... </div><div>when i'd finally accepted my life "as-is" .... </div><div>there he was....</div><div><br /></div><div>it took me a while to finally convince mr clean that i was done.</div><div>he'd call soooo much.</div><div>he'd text sooo much in the beginning of mine and jason's relationship....</div><div>i was still a bit stupid, because i felt like i should somehow help mr clean heal from the "heartache" i'd caused him....</div><div><br /></div><div>and one day, i just woke up....</div><div>and there was, </div><div>no more,</div><div>mr clean.....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-91475972791366845662010-06-02T09:05:00.001-07:002010-06-02T09:11:57.596-07:00part 7 mr clean.- roommate-ectomy.<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean.</a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-3.html">part 3.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-4-mr-clean-featuring-bbe-big-burly.html">part 4.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-5-mr-clean.html">part 5.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-6-mr-clean-to-move-out-or-not-to.html">part 6</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>fun fact: i believe "-ectomy" is the removal of something....</div><div><br /></div><div>.... day after day went by....</div><div>every morning i'd come downstairs after he'd left for work and check the notice to vacate.</div><div>still.... nothing.</div><div>no signature, but mine.</div><div><br /></div><div>and then one morning,</div><div>it was gone.</div><div>no. flipping. way.</div><div>did he sign it?</div><div>did he sign it and turn it in to the front office?</div><div>i called the front office and asked if they'd received our notice to move out.</div><div>nope!</div><div>they hadn't received it.</div><div>what the hell did he do with the effing thing?</div><div>was that a tease?</div><div>did he WANT me to think he turned it in?</div><div>asshole.</div><div><br /></div><div>i didn't bother calling him anymore.</div><div>so i figured i'd just wait until we crossed paths later that night.</div><div>i asked him about it and he had mentioned he picked it up earlier and thought about signing it....</div><div><br /></div><div>"aaaand?" i'd asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>"and what?" he asked back.</div><div><br /></div><div>"sooooo?" i'd asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>"so what?" he asked back.</div><div><br /></div><div>real flipping mature, jack ass.</div><div>my conversation with this bald headed jerk was going no where.... fast.</div><div><br /></div><div>he walked out onto the patio and lit one up....</div><div>smoked with his arms crossed, staring at me through the screen.... like an asshole.</div><div>he tilted his head back to blow the smoke out of his mouth, (while staring at me still) but looked like a smart ass instead.</div><div>"what a dick!" i couldn't help but think to myself multiple times.</div><div>i don't know what prevented me from stabbing a knife through the screen and into his eyeballs on multiple occasions either.</div><div>but i didn't.</div><div>it wasn't worth it.</div><div>it wasn't worth giving up the freedom that was so close, yet so far away....</div><div>at the times it felt close, i could almost taste it.</div><div>i could taste a cold daquiri on my lips.... laying poolside, without a care in the world....</div><div>without feeling an obligation to anyone else....</div><div>i could feel my cowboy boots scuffing the dance floor as i linedanced to my favorite tunes.</div><div>i could taste freedom, like a popsicle on a hot, summer day....</div><div>it was close....</div><div><i>or so i had hoped.</i>...</div><div><br /></div><div>he put out his cigarette and came in....</div><div>eyes still peeled to me, as if his mind was going a million miles a minute, but the words just stayed behind....</div><div>he hadn't said a word....</div><div>until he came in and walked right by me....</div><div>says, non-chalantly, "i threw it away. i'm not signing it."</div><div><br /></div><div>ASSHOLE!!!!</div><div>ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE!!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>holy FUCK i was pissed!</div><div>i knew this wasn't going to be easy....</div><div>it was april.</div><div>i was getting my tonsils out on may 8th.</div><div>i thought i'd be out by then....</div><div>but once you turn the notice in,</div><div>it's 30 days from the day you turn it in.</div><div>fuck!</div><div>i was still going to be living there on the 8th.... and apparently weeks after too!</div><div><br /></div><div>i continued to print the notices.</div><div>i signed and dated them.</div><div>and each day,</div><div>he'd remove them.</div><div>only to throw them away.</div><div>i did this 8 times.</div><div>one.</div><div>two.</div><div>three four five sixseveneightfucking times!</div><div>i don't know WHY i did it so many times....</div><div>i guess i was just being a stubborn BITCH, but i did it eight times anyway....</div><div><br /></div><div>finally, i knew this was just going to go on forever, (or until my work fired me for wasting their paper....) and at the rate we were going, i'd figured the latter would come first.</div><div><br /></div><div>so i went to the front office one day.</div><div>it was a rainy ass day, and i felt like i was at the bottom.</div><div>i'd lost hope of saving my "reputation."</div><div>no one knew there were any ongoing issues....</div><div>at least i don't think they did.....</div><div>but at this point, i didn't care who thought i was fucked up beyond repair....</div><div>shit i didn't care if they FIRED me at this point, i needed to get the HELL out of that damned place!!! (the home we were renting, not the job)....</div><div>i went to the office when the manager was in...</div><div>i went into her office and sat down with her and told her, "look, i want to get out.... badly. i've signed 8 different notices to move out and he has thrown all 8 away.... he refuses to sign them. what do i do from here? i don't want the entire company knowing my business, but i need help...." i broke down into tears in her office. i <i>knew</i> this lady was going everywhere with my business....</div><div>and shortly after that, i started getting phone calls from people.</div><div>"i'm sorry. you guys are in a lease together.... you can't move out and hold him responsible, unless he releases you from the lease," is one of the things i'd heard.</div><div>"you can't force him out," is another.</div><div>"he HAS to sign the notice," was another.</div><div>"i'll see what i can do," was the most hopeful thing i'd heard....</div><div>that was from my regional.</div><div>i felt like at least SHE had my back....</div><div><br /></div><div>i sat there wondering how the hell i was going to get out of this....</div><div>and then it hit me....</div><div>we hadn't lived there for a year yet!!!</div><div>in fact at this point, it was reaching the 5 month point!!!!</div><div>this is GOOD!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>and it is good, because....</div><div>there is something, <i>somewhere</i> in the lease agreement that says that if you are living in your apartment for less than a year, and your lease expiration is approaching, the management company can ask you to leave without having to provide any reasonable explanation.... (actually i think it's more like, "we can choose not to renew your lease without providing explanation," or something to that extent.)</div><div>so i went to my regional with THAT!</div><div>"can they serve <b><i>US</i></b> a 30 day notice to vacate the premises and not tell us why?" i'd asked desperately, "can they PLEASE?!!"</div><div>i was beyond desperate at this point....</div><div>and THAT worked....</div><div>no. FLIPPING. way.....</div><div>she'd contacted our front office and had the manager send US a notice that they were choosing NOT to renew our month to month lease agreement without any explanation.....</div><div>i'd made sure he was the one to receive it too!</div><div>so it was on the door when he came home....</div><div>he came to me and asked, "what's this all about?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"oh shit!" i thought, "he KNOWS i told them to do it!!!"</div><div>"what is <i>what</i> all about?" i'd asked back, like i had no idea what the hell he was talking about.</div><div><br /></div><div>"what does this mean?" he'd asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>i said, "let me see it."</div><div>looked at it and said, "i think this means we have to move out in 30 days..."</div><div>he starts going on and on about how they can't do that, and "what's their reason for this?"</div><div>and blah blah blah....</div><div>i pulled out the lease and showed him exactly where it stated they COULD, in fact, do what they just did and then i proceeded to show him the line that HE signed SAYING they could do just that!!! he didn't know what to say.....</div><div>"i guess i'll start looking for a place," he said....</div><div><br /></div><div>"YES!!!!! FUCKING YESSSSSSSSS!" i thought!</div><div>"holy shit!!! THIS WORKED!!!!"</div><div>i was hoping the excitement wasn't too apparent....</div><div>"do you need help finding a place?" i'd asked.</div><div>"not right now.... i'm good."</div><div>wooooo fucking hooooo!!!!!</div><div>i was elated.</div><div>beyond thrilled.</div><div>jumping for joy inside....</div><div>and when he walked out of the room, i even jumped for joy on the outside too....</div><div><br /></div><div>may 8th came up and bit my ass much faster than i thought it would.</div><div><br /></div><div>somehow during this time, we'd managed to become friends again....</div><div>we played video games together....</div><div>he was showing me places he had found and was thinking of renting....</div><div>i didn't know if it was real or not, but i think the excitement just took over me....</div><div>i didn't <i>hate</i> him anymore....</div><div>we were moving out....</div><div>and would be moving on....</div><div>and suddenly, being under the same roof wasn't all that bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>on may 8th, he'd offered to take me to have my tonsils removed.</div><div>it was a quick outpatient procedure and he was an ICU nurse, and he would be the one who would have to wake up that early 430 am or whatever it was.... yeah whatever.</div><div>i don't know what i was thinking either, but i let him take me.....</div><div>and he waited for me while they took my tonsils out and he came in the back to see me after i recovered, although i didn't say much.</div><div>he went and filled my prescriptions for me....</div><div>went and bought some bullshit for me to eat.</div><div>and by bullshit, yes, i mean bullshit.</div><div>he got like soy fucking pudding.</div><div>yeah, have you ever eaten soy fucking pudding?</div><div>it tastes like shit!</div><div>i got all excited to eat chocolate pudding, and it tasted like rotten ass milk!!</div><div>i'm pretty sure he did that on purpose.</div><div>just to torture me.</div><div>but whatever.</div><div>i just didn't eat it....</div><div>and even though i was deathly hungry, i didn't care.</div><div>i was not going to eat some bullshit ass imitation pudding.</div><div>i wanted FOOD, dammit!</div><div>i wanted a freakin steak and baked potato....</div><div>do you know what it is like having tonsils, the size of bull testes removed from your throat?</div><div>it effing sucks.</div><div>and not just like sucks a little bit.</div><div>it sucks a lot of bit.</div><div>it's not like your wisdom teeth, where you can bite down on gauze to stop the bleeding....</div><div>no.</div><div>it's like "oh. your mouth is bleeding? well why don't you swallow it. go ahead, keep swallowing. you'll eventually puke it all up and it'll come out of your nose and you'll pretty much think you're dying.... but just go ahead and SWALLOW IT!!!!!"</div><div>do you know how many times i woke up because "a tiny artery ruptured in my throat" in the middle of the night (and day)?? yeah. more than i would have liked to.....</div><div>it was the most AWFUL experience (besides living with him), that i'd ever experienced....</div><div>it was like SQUIRTING in the back of my mouth and all i could do was swallow the freakin blood... SICK!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>whoa! way off topic!</div><div>back to the whole "mr clean" story.</div><div>sorry.</div><div>he seriously took off like 2 weeks or something like that to take care of me.....</div><div>he was a registry nurse, so he pretty much told them when he wanted to work....</div><div>and told them he'd needed time to get me healthy again.</div><div>that was nice, huh?</div><div>but i'm pretty sure he didn't do anything that didn't benefit him (or HOPEFULLY benefitted him) either....</div><div>i think he just wanted the time off....</div><div>or had hoped i'd change my mind about moving.</div><div><br /></div><div>i ditched the <s>bull testes</s> tonsils....</div><div>and was on my way to ditching the roommate....</div><div><br /></div><div>things were headed in the right direction....</div><div><br /></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-17224903000590718002010-05-31T21:18:00.000-07:002010-06-02T09:03:17.481-07:00beautiful, white russian. woot!<div style="text-align: left;">A big, huge thank you to Mr. Patrick Tillett over at <a href="http://patricktillett.blogspot.com/">"Extremely Overdue,"</a> which is just an extremely awesome blog, that if you are not already following, well you should.... but go back to his childhood stories.... you gotta go back into time with him.... he has had one hell of a life, and has boatloads of crazy, awesome, sad, and hilarious stories to tell. he is also an AMAZING photographer and posts pictures from all over.... he's just great. Go check him out!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfAN2fF-efLm_xPkEvUGcStUYjcyNVVXoSEF9xIh_j4sdmUp5YrBqg8WhiQ6_NLdNZZIZEukObdChdATpkSqcp0O6WZ4mY2ScL1n212w_zj5YLVukAm7MkZg_7E9Ci370WEr5Klt92KlB/s320/Award+the+big+lebowski+award+B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478200372600039986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 201px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div>And THEN, there is BayGirl32 from <a href="http://baygirl32.blogspot.com/">"What's the Story Morning Glory?"</a> who kindly gave me this Beautiful Blogger award!!! She has stories of ALL kinds. I love her absolute honesty and she makes me laugh! Is it weird to not know someone in person but totally respect them anyway?? Because I definitely respect her for all that she is and does!! (she even stays up late studying!!!!) Go check her out!</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_m39GLEopK3uesyPLwQBOP8qkLS-Z3ASyODimq2qeGS2V9kJg3_YPfp7i243j9U5LGda_TCdyfJQGXxvZtklG8hyphenhyphenYsGNpWuOZeIBWSCU-PSPvsSzdeereaoIAJ4ZLqp_vd4XEmSfU1Hz/s320/beautiful+blogger_thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477826968954855538" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">The rules: pass the award on to 7 bloggers and write 7 things about myself that you did not know!<br /><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">Let's see....</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">1. i produce my best results when i'm overworked and stressed out, however i don't like being overworked and stressed out.... but think that maybe i secretly do, because that is when i produce my best results.... in almost everything.... does that make sense? </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">2. i haven't ever had to go to jury duty. everyone says how much they hate jury duty. i sometimes think i might like it.... however, i have a hard time assuming innocence for many people once they've been arrested, which then leads to my assumption that i likely wouldn't be picked to be on a jury, but i still think it might be kinda cool.... </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">3. in 2007, i came up with a business idea and a few weeks later came up with a business name.... wanted to share this business idea with my very best friend in the world (aka "boss").... the one whose friendship i lost because of mr clean. to this day, i think she still plans to go forward with the business (i don't know if she plans to use the name or not), but i woke up thinking about that this morning and i think it would bother me if she used the name that i picked. that sounds selfish, doesn't it?</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">4. i have a fairly large sized, orange and red koi fish tattooed down the left side of my rib cage with my daughter's name (in japanese) inside. it was actually just my daughter's name down my rib cage, and then a few years later i added the koi around it.... i also have 2 other tattoos, that are also in japanese.... i am a quarter japanese.... go figure.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">5. even though i have duplicate checks (the kind that keep a carbon copy of the check you wrote), i usually STILL act surprised when the money's taken out of the account a week or so later.... i usually have forgotten about the check i had written by then, and somehow feel cheated when the money's gone. you'd think, by now, i would have stopped ordering checks....</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">6. i never know how to study for a quiz or test unless the professor tells me exactly how to do it.... i usually think i've got all the information i need for the test and then when i sit down to do it, i sit there looking at the questions like, "ummm, did they even GO OVER THIS?!?" and i think that's pretty much one of the worst feelings ever.....</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">7. i wish i could make money writing.... but i'm pretty sure i can't, so i'm going to school for Nursing and writing and making/drinking coffee for (money) and fun. =)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">i'm supposed to pass this on to 7 bloggers.... Forgive me for postponing this one for JUST a bit.... i'm going to have to sit on this one for a few.... but i WILL! =)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#C0C0C0;">Thank you again Pat and BayGirl!!! They are very much appreciated!!!!</span></span></span></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-28554138635898841512010-05-30T10:04:00.000-07:002010-05-31T12:10:52.961-07:00part 6 mr clean. - to move out or not to move out.<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean</a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-3.html">part 3.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-4-mr-clean-featuring-bbe-big-burly.html">part 4.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-5-mr-clean.html">part 5.</a></div><div><br /></div><div>.... i sat there in the tub, realizing i wanted out....</div><div>soooo badly i wanted out.</div><div><br /></div><div>it had come to this point of just co-existing....</div><div>well, it pretty much had been since a few nights after we moved in together....</div><div>i'd try to go to sleep as early as possible...</div><div>and even if i really wasn't sleeping, i'd act like i was so that he wouldn't talk to me.</div><div>he always wanted to watch tv shows, talk, stay up late, sit outside and talk.</div><div>i wanted none of it.</div><div>he'd try to do sweet, romantic things, that just weren't sweet and romantic to me....</div><div>not even a little bit.</div><div>like light candles and buy a bottle of wine and have it set up outside with some flowers picked or bought or whatever....</div><div>i seriously wouldn't even acknowledge the flowers.</div><div>i'd turn the lights on....</div><div>and blow out the candles....</div><div>"i don't feel like drinking. thanks," i'd say as he sat waiting to "take my hand to lead me outside to sit with him...."</div><div>i didn't care about him or any of his stupid tactics anymore....</div><div>part of me felt bad for the efforts he was putting forth.</div><div>the other part of me felt like "where the hell were these kind gestures before?! hmmm?! asshole!"</div><div><br /></div><div>it was april. i wanted out.</div><div>i <i>needed </i>out....</div><div>but i didn't know how to go about it.</div><div>we were month to month where we were. (as an employee, that's what you were)</div><div>i printed out an intent to vacate notice....</div><div>perfect.</div><div>the only requirement?</div><div>BOTH of our signatures....</div><div><br /></div><div>i signed and dated it immediately, slipped in in my purse to take home and have him sign it too....</div><div>only he didn't know it was coming....</div><div>not even a little bit.</div><div>not even a HINT that it was coming....</div><div><br /></div><div>that night i came home to candles....</div><div>to flowers....</div><div>to dinner made.</div><div>the whole place smelled wonderful.</div><div>but i wouldn't dare tell him that.</div><div>hell no.</div><div>he had a paper to sign....</div><div>right?</div><div>this <i>was</i> what i wanted to do, right?</div><div>RIGHT?!</div><div><br /></div><div>wait.... do i really want to do this alone.... again???</div><div><br /></div><div>i passed on the dinner.</div><div>and he was okay with it.</div><div>a bit disappointed, but okay with it.</div><div>put all the food into containers and into the fridge.</div><div>poured 2 glasses of wine and asked if i'd sit outside with him.</div><div><br /></div><div>i passed on the wine as well.</div><div>but did sit outside for a brief moment.</div><div>but only because the creek was soooo peaceful....</div><div>all you could hear were the frogs, the crickets and the streaming water.... </div><div>the stars lit up the sky....</div><div>it <i>could</i> have been very romantic....</div><div><br /></div><div>until the words from my brain somehow linked to my mouth and came spewing out....</div><div>i'd fantasized about making this a good thing....</div><div>a positive thing....</div><div>about letting him off slowly....</div><div>easily.....</div><div><br /></div><div>"i'm not happy." *pause* "i want to move out. i already printed the notice and i signed it. i just need you to sign it too." </div><div><br /></div><div>i still had my purse on my shoulder.... </div><div><br /></div><div>he was dumbfounded.</div><div>he pleaded a little bit.</div><div>leaned back in his chair. </div><div>flipped over an empty pot to grab his hidden cigarettes.</div><div>nice!</div><div>after alllll that we had already gone through. </div><div>he was STILL hiding shit.</div><div>like cigarettes.</div><div>how did he hide them from me?! </div><div>how did i not know?</div><div>i'll tell you how.</div><div>because he'd smoke outside when i wasn't there.</div><div>he'd get rid of all of the evidence.... </div><div>change his clothes.</div><div>wash them.</div><div>he was always doing laundry "for" me while i was working.</div><div>aaaaand, the biggest way he hid it from me?</div><div>i wasn't kissing him anymore.</div><div>i wasn't close enough to his face to even smell it if he were.</div><div><br /></div><div>he. was. pissed.</div><div>he said he wasn't going to sign it.</div><div>said he wasn't going to just sign the paper.</div><div>wasn't going to do it.</div><div><br /></div><div>i could feel the anger rising....</div><div>it started in the pit of my stomach and felt as though it was churning....</div><div>from my stomach up my esophagus....</div><div>that twisting, crunching feeling like you're going to explode....</div><div>like all the heat your body contains is just radiating off of your ears....</div><div>that's how i felt....</div><div>and i swallowed all of that anger.</div><div>ALL of it.</div><div>and walked inside.</div><div>still in my work clothes.</div><div>purse still over my shoulder.</div><div>i pulled out the signed notice to vacate, looked down at it for a second.</div><div>i knew it was the right thing to do....</div><div>i ignored any and all of the feelings i had felt, and KNEW it was the right thing to do.</div><div>i set it on the buffet piece under the dim lamp and headed upstairs....</div><div>maybe if he saw it.</div><div>signed.</div><div>and dated.</div><div>maybe, just <i>maybe,</i> he'd know i meant it....</div><div>and maybe, just <i>maybe</i>,</div><div>he'd sign the damned thing....</div><div><br /></div><div><i><br /></i></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-12032320460047213312010-05-27T08:51:00.000-07:002010-05-27T09:22:33.738-07:00part 5 mr clean<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean</a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-3.html">part 3</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/part-4-mr-clean-featuring-bbe-big-burly.html">part 4</a></div><div><br /></div><div>.... my heart wanted to forgive mr clean....</div><div>but more than that, i didn't want to be alone.</div><div>i didn't want to face the days alone.</div><div>i didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night, crying, alone....</div><div>i just didn't.</div><div>he had me right where he wanted me....</div><div>weak.</div><div>desperate.</div><div>insecure.</div><div>stupid....</div><div><br /></div><div>he asked if we could move in together.</div><div>said he wanted to make things easier on me.</div><div>help me financially.</div><div>said he wanted to make everything right.</div><div>wanted to come home to me every night.</div><div>oooo.</div><div>"financially help," as in i would be paying less rent?</div><div>score!</div><div>"come home to me every night," as in, i didn't have to wonder <s>who</s> what he was doing every single night? </div><div>sounded good.</div><div>so we started looking.</div><div>(remember, i was in property management, so i got a decent discount on any place we'd rent with the company within a few different cities....) did i NOT see that this was HUGELY benefitting him as well?? who knows.... but i didn't seem to care....</div><div><br /></div><div>we looked at the top of the line.... </div><div>and settled somewhere right in the middle.</div><div>the place we chose was BEAUTIFUL!</div><div>expensive.</div><div>backed up to the creek.</div><div>SUPER spacious.... </div><div>attached 2 car garage. </div><div>and it would have cost us an arm and a leg had i not worked for the company who owned it.</div><div><br /></div><div>moving into this place together meant that HE was saving over $400 each month (just on rent alone). </div><div>that doesn't include the super discounted cable that came as one of my perks either.... </div><div>he was TOTALLY making out bigtime.</div><div>we ran our credit scores to get the place....</div><div>it should have been a freakin clue that MY credit was better than his....</div><div>he was a nurse....</div><div>making like $80k/yr. (and i was a freakin single mom with medical bills owed and blah blah blah)</div><div>seriously.</div><div>whatever.</div><div>i didn't care about that either....</div><div>in we moved!!</div><div>the end of december....</div><div>it was nice....</div><div>for the first few nights of having a huge place, on a creek....</div><div>and then i began to wonder.... (just a few nights later)</div><div>"what was the point of moving in with him?"</div><div>"why did i do this?"</div><div><br /></div><div>i knew....</div><div>i freakin KNEW i did it for all the wrong reasons.... </div><div>i just knew that i wanted to see more commitment from him, and i thought this was going to help.... i wanted to know that he meant everything he had said....</div><div>but deep down inside, it's <i>not</i> what i wanted.</div><div>not even a little bit....</div><div><br /></div><div>i fought the internal demons for quite sometime.</div><div>he tried.</div><div>he tried soo hard for the next few months....</div><div>but i just kept pushing away.</div><div>i'd go out linedancing every wednesday, sometimes mondays too....</div><div>sometimes i was really tired and didn't want to go, but i went anyway....</div><div>because it pissed him off that i wasn't at home.... with him....</div><div><br /></div><div>i told him he could come with me one time.... </div><div>he agreed.</div><div>and i drank. </div><div>an entire bottle of wine (secretly) before we'd even left the house.</div><div>i was completely shitfaced before we even arrived at the place....</div><div>i vaguely remember taking a few free shots with one of the girls who worked there....</div><div>i remember having to pee,</div><div>multiple times, and trying to tell myself "do NOT appear drunk. make light conversation and continue on." </div><div>but the "light" and "normal" conversations i had tried to have with people just weren't very light and normal.... </div><div>i. was. <i>wasted....</i></div><div>the lil sis went into the bathroom with me....</div><div>into the STALL with me... </div><div>all i had to do was PEE....</div><div>and sleep....</div><div>i fell asleep on the toilet....</div><div>mr clean was waiting at the bar for us....</div><div>but we didn't come....</div><div>sis pulled me up and even threatened to beat some girl down if she knocked on our stall one more time.....</div><div>i didn't do it for any other reason than to piss him off.</div><div>and i did.</div><div>he had to carry me out.... with some stranger.</div><div>i have NEVER in my life felt that horrible.... </div><div>i puked everywhere. multiple times....</div><div>i hated him.</div><div>i wanted him to HAVE to take care of me.</div><div>i wanted to P-U-N-I-S-H him....</div><div><br /></div><div>i was slowly beginning to <i>hate</i> him....</div><div><br /></div><div>and the next day, he worked. </div><div><br /></div><div>i sat in the bath for a long, long time.</div><div>our big, oval, deluxe style tub, overlooking the creek....</div><div>i sat in that tub, on my bruised ass tailbone and thought,</div><div>"where did i go? what happened to me?"</div><div>no, not referring to the night before.....</div><div>i meant ME....</div><div>what the hell happened to ME?!</div><div>dammit!!! i was ANGRY!</div><div>i used to care so much!</div><div>he did this!!!!</div><div>she did this!!!</div><div>THEY did this!!!! </div><div>TO MEEEE!!!!!</div><div>who the fuck was i now?! </div><div>i was so angry....</div><div>i didn't CARE if he hurt!</div><div>i didn't CARE if he was embarrassed.</div><div>i didn't give a shit WHAT the fuck he felt anymore....</div><div>i just didn't....</div><div>he could have walked out and left right then and there.... and i wouldn't have cared....</div><div>the only part that would have hurt was, me....</div><div>ME because i would have STILL believed that i wasn't good enough for even an ugly, bald, lying, cheating piece of shit to want me....</div><div><br /></div><div>i wanted out of the apartment.</div><div>i wanted out of the "relationship."</div><div>i wanted out of the anger.</div><div>at any cost,</div><div><br /></div><div>I wanted <i>out....</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-28941883078731068732010-05-26T10:30:00.000-07:002010-05-26T11:31:26.612-07:00part 4 mr clean, featuring BBE (big burly ex)<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-3.html">part 3</a></div><div><br /></div><div>he came to my apartment.... knocking on my door.... talking to me through my door.... it woke me up.... </div><div>i quickly wiped the snot from my face.... and the dried tears from my eyes.... blew my nose and stood up against the door to hear what he was saying a little bit better....</div><div>i'm sure he knew....</div><div>i know he knew i wanted to hear what he had to say....</div><div>i shouldn't have, but i did.</div><div>i wanted to hear what he had to say.</div><div>i wanted to hear him tell me what a mistake it was and how much he loved me....</div><div>i wanted to know that.... to hear it.... (and still not believe it.... even though i somehow convinced myself at the time to believe it.... deep down, i didn't.....) but it was easier to move forward WITH him, than it was to move forward WITHOUT him.... at least at that point it was.... </div><div>i opened the door.</div><div>i unlocked the door and let him in....</div><div>and i got back down on the floor to just lie there.... i didn't cry in front of him, but i turned my head away from him.... asking whatever questions i wanted to, because right then, III had the upper hand in this.... for ONCE, I HAD THE UPPER HAND!!!! and i was going to take full advantage of having the upperhand, finally!</div><div><br /></div><div>2 days later, November 24th, i get this horrible call while at work....</div><div>it was my stepmother....</div><div>she was frantic....</div><div>my father was dying...</div><div>he was at the hospital since earlier that morning (complications with his cancer, ongoing for 6 years, it was nothing new) , and he was dying....</div><div>they gave him <i><b>minutes</b></i> to live....</div><div>she put the phone to his ear and all i could hear was the loud blowing sound of the oxygen blowing into his mask....</div><div>it sounded like the wind....</div><div>i could hear her sobbing in the background as i tried to verbally puke up the last minute things i never imagined i'd have to choke up so soon. </div><div>i didn't know what to say, except that i loved him.</div><div>"dad, i love you. you don't have to hang on anymore," i'd told him. "you go and take care of grandma and uncle bill.... i love you. i love you so much." </div><div>and then i heard her voice again, frantic in the phone... sobbing, not even making sense.... she kept telling me that he couldn't understand me.... he was already gone....</div><div>you see, my father was taken to the hospital that morning....</div><div>they live in a TINY little town in tennessee, where the nearest hospital is an hour plus away....</div><div>he walked himself to the ambulance and looked back at their house.... he had his arm around my stepmom and he told her, "i'm not coming back this time. we've had a good life together." my stepmom didn't have time for that nonsense talk.... "yes you are. you're coming back with me. don't talk like that." she was rushing him to get into the ambulance.... he got into the ambulance and she rushed to pack bags for the hospital. she didn't know how long they'd be staying.... he was admitted that saturday morning around 7 am and passed away at noon.</div><div>my father was a DNR (do not resuscitate, sp?) patient and i feel like because he was a DNR, they really just stepped back.... almost as if to wipe their hands clean of him. </div><div>they knew he was going to pass, but he was in so much pain.... he'd asked for pain meds, but THEY.... NEVER.... CAME.... he had an oxygen mask on.... and shortly before he passed, he sat up and said, "i gotta go!" </div><div>stepmom asks, "where are you going honey?" </div><div>dad says, "i don't know, but i gotta go!" </div><div>and then spewed green mucus type stuff EVERYWHERE.... all in his face mask, all over himself, all over the bed and the floor.... his eyes rolled back and he fell back onto the bed horizontally, when he should have been vertical.... he was now hanging off of the bed.... his vitals dropped quickly and my stepmom yelled for help.... </div><div>she said it looked like a scene from a horror movie.... and the nurses didn't seem to move fast enough. </div><div>they got him up on the bed and said he was already gone.... his brain had shut down.... and just moments later, the rest of his body and heart did too.....</div><div>it <i>guts</i> me to type this story out on here....</div><div>to think about my father in that way....</div><div>i've never really shared much of this story with anyone, maybe the pain of reliving it?? </div><div>perhaps.</div><div>maybe because no one else needed the mental images of my father's passing?</div><div>maybe.</div><div>because i didn't want the emotion that comes along with that time of his passing? it's possible.... </div><div><br /></div><div>the story and the feelings associated with that period in my life are unthinkable....</div><div>the things i did,</div><div>the poor, POOR decisions i made, and continued to make, had me spiraling downhill.... </div><div>and FAST....</div><div><br /></div><div>just FOUR days....</div><div>4 measly, freakin', stinkin' days after i'd found out the shit that went down with best friend and mr clean, </div><div>there HE was....</div><div>he was the one whose arms i found myself crying in.....</div><div>he was the one whose lap i fell weak into and cried until i slept....</div><div>he was the one who i let comfort my weakness and rub my back....</div><div>yes. </div><div>he was the one.....</div><div><br /></div><div>he asked if he could fly back to tennessee with me for the funeral. </div><div>of course he could....</div><div>i didn't feel strong enough to do ANYTHING on. my. own.</div><div>anyone at my side, was stronger than no one at my side....</div><div>and even if there WAS family.... i needed something stronger....</div><div>someone who <i>wasn't </i>feeling pain too.... </div><div>i needed someone who knew the deeper darker secrets i was holding in my aching, half ass broken heart....</div><div>i needed someone to just focus on ME, dammit!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>i was in tennessee and big burly ex had texted me....</div><div>it's a secret regret that i have held with me up until this point.</div><div>this very point of typing it out on here....</div><div>you see, my dad loved big burly ex.</div><div>dad said i was going to marry big burly ex one day.</div><div>he said "mark my words...."</div><div>big burly ex was the only non-douchebag that i ever dated.... (besides my now husband, of course)</div><div>he was the only one who ever genuinely cared about my well being.</div><div>i was too young and too stupid to see that at the time....</div><div>my gut wanted so badly to call him and tell him to come....</div><div>i know he would have carried my father's casket....</div><div>my dad really loved him that much.</div><div>you know, i go on and say that there is nothing in life that i regret, but i really do regret that....</div><div>having mr clean there to comfort me, when i knew it should have been BBE.</div><div><br /></div><div>honestly, i can't even tell you what all took place during the funeral time and such.... </div><div>that week is really blurry when i look back on it now.... </div><div>i remember seeing a bunch of friends and family from the midwest and east coast that i hadn't seen in years.... i remember the speech that i had given.... and i remember the basis of my speech.... it was about forgiveness....</div><div>i spoke about how my father taught me many things in his life.... whether directly, or indirectly... he taught me many things....</div><div>he taught me that people deserved a 2nd chance.....</div><div>he taught me how to forgive.... </div><div>i really truly learned to forgive with my father's passing.</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for cheating on my mother....</div><div>multiple times.</div><div><br /></div><div>and forgave him for me harboring the feelings that he was, in turn, cheating on us too....</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for the actions he showed me, that lead me to assume that i, as well as my sister and mother, were not good enough for him to be faithful.</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for drinking in excess, </div><div><br /></div><div>and for not picking us up when he told us he would.</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for yelling at me for so many years,</div><div>and expecting nothing but perfection from me....</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for investing more financially into my older sister than he did in me.</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for embarrassing me on multiple occasions, </div><div>and hurting my feelings many, MANY different times.....</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for calling me a wannabe nurse, when i flew out to tennessee just 3 and a half weeks prior, to take care of him, and try to nurse him back to health.</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him for continuously putting me down, and all of the stupid decisions i've ever made.... </div><div><br /></div><div>for calling me a slut....</div><div><br /></div><div>i forgave him....</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0U3fJzfTt1jCC5881LIjo4BZxq8vTFqHRZRQtZMfH7A5prR1xKFErP0Erj9Mem1t-Q8Gu2Po6wPGTPYWG_D2FMPeImAxq4LWOvW9ZrWPLTtoGAZVXHQz-sYBUFZzYn95qJFpWByeWtQ7/s1600/l_0eb3b6c2686eabfe6b9a9812d5328e6b.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0U3fJzfTt1jCC5881LIjo4BZxq8vTFqHRZRQtZMfH7A5prR1xKFErP0Erj9Mem1t-Q8Gu2Po6wPGTPYWG_D2FMPeImAxq4LWOvW9ZrWPLTtoGAZVXHQz-sYBUFZzYn95qJFpWByeWtQ7/s320/l_0eb3b6c2686eabfe6b9a9812d5328e6b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475645026208917394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a><div>and dammit, i was going to forgive mr clean too....</div><div><br /></div><div>even if it took.</div><div>every. </div><div>last. </div><div>bit.</div><div>of my soul to do so....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-19516145069411801812010-05-23T13:56:00.000-07:002010-05-25T10:20:39.366-07:00mr clean (part 3)<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of mr clean</a><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/mr-clean-part-2.html">part 2</a></div><div><br /></div><div>so.... I should have known.... his plans were much more than a 7 day vacation to the east coast for one of his best friend's weddings.... but I didn't want to believe anything more than just that. and so I didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>12 days went by.... twelve freakin days went by.... i heard nothing.... i didn't text him, not even once. i, DID, however call from a blocked number once, just to see if he would answer. he didn't. it went straight to his voicemail. </div><div><br /></div><div>i tried to convince myself that he didn't have service.... or that his battery was dead and he didn't take his phone charger with him.</div><div><br /></div><div>during those 12 days, a lot happened on my end. i had a friend over and we sat on my patio, sipping a glass of wine (or multiple glasses of wine, i can't remember).... i remember wondering what his reasons could be for not calling. not texting.... i'd even wondered if i had bugged him by asking if he was going to see her. i wondered if that was "over the top." looking back, it wasn't. but it WAS stupid... because if i had to ASK if he was going to see her, then it probably wasn't the healthiest "relationship" to be in.... </div><div><br /></div><div>12 days seems like a long time but it doesn't.... 12 days felt like 3 months, and i began to start accepting that i couldn't change what was happening during that time.... i had told myself BEFORE he left, that i would give him that card and NOT call him at all.... i stood true to that (almost)... he didn't know the private number was me... and it went straight to his voicemail, so he doesn't even know i tried calling.... </div><div><br /></div><div>one morning.... i think it was right towards the end of september.... i was sleeping.... it was my day off ( a wednesday or a thursday).... i got a text message.</div><div>and another.....</div><div>and about 15 more...</div><div>all. at. once.</div><div>they were all. from. him.</div><div><br /></div><div>the texts came through, not making any sense whatsoever....</div><div>"i'm here. at the airport. waiting for bill to pick me up."</div><div><br /></div><div>wait, what? bill is in pittsburgh. i thought you were there like 12 days ago.... (i didn't send that, but this is my thought process.... hang tight)....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"me and the guys went out for his bachelor party tonight. had some beers. had an amazing dinner. thought of you the whole time. now i'm lying in bed. everyone's asleep, and i'm squinting because the light from the cell phone is so bright. just wanted you to know i was thinking of you." (or some bullshit like that)</div><div><br /></div><div>"hope you're enjoying the birthday party today!! call me when you get this...." (was one of them, as he knew i was throwing a birthday party while he was gone)</div><div><br /></div><div>those were the only ones that i can really remember, and then there was a series of text messages that went together like a story.... pretty much saying that he had told her allllll about me.... she didn't take it well.... he couldn't stay there any longer.... the card i gave him was amazing.... he didn't know what to say.... he loved the booklet of sayings.... blah blah blah....</div><div><br /></div><div>i woke up to these.... and was like, "WHAT THE HELL?! he's been texting me all along!!!! and i wasn't getting them!!!! OH MY GOSH!!!! HE LOOOOOVES ME!!!!!!" (it's okay. you don't have to smack me. i've already beaten myself up for this one multiple times.....)</div><div><br /></div><div>it wasn't even 6 am. i called my sister. she said, "i just got text messages from him too!" and then i called my mom... "i got a couple too." </div><div>their voices were all raspy.... although my older sister was a lot more awake than my mom. my mom wasn't too impressed, but tried to share in the joy i was having at this moment....</div><div>i tried calling him after i talked to them both.... got his voicemail.</div><div>what the HELL?! but i just got all these text messages from him!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>i continued trying to call him on and off for the next few hours... finally at around 8 am, i got through... IT WAS RINGING!!!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>now was he going to pick up?</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ashley?!"</div><div>"yes?!"</div><div>"Ashley! oh my God! Ashley it's you! it's soooo good to hear your voice!!!!"</div><div>"I just got all these text messages all at once! where are you?!" i asked.</div><div>"ohhh Ashley.... i'm in chicago. on a layover. heading home.... i arrive around noon," he said.</div><div>"who's picking you up?" I'd asked.</div><div>"i'd planned on taking a cab home."</div><div>"can i come pick you up?" i SERIOUSLY asked.....</div><div>"i would love nothing more...." he said....</div><div><br /></div><div>he was crying (or at least fake crying, and i totally fell for it).... </div><div>he was telling me how he'd been texting me all along, and how he baaaarely has service where he is and that he just can't wait to see me and tell me everything that has happened.....</div><div><br /></div><div>i was BEYOND THRILLED!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>"I GET TO PICK HIM UP!!!! YAY ME!!!!!" (i get to waste my FUCKING gas and go pick up this bald idiot!!!!) <---- didn't think that at the time... this is the present me speaking.... </div><div><br /></div><div>i cleaned the car out.... put this cd in... got all cute to go pick him up.... </div><div>i parked at the airport and went and waited at the bottom of the escalator. </div><div>he'd called when he'd landed. told me he'd be down shortly.</div><div>MIND YOU, this idiot it like 10 years older than me (looks like 3o years older than me).... his style is TOTALLY different than ANYONE i've EVER dated before.... he wore like light denim jeans.... some button down under a navy blue sport coat, with a freakin ass cowboy hat.... (i'd never seen the cowboy hat before, but whatever)....</div><div><br /></div><div>and down the escalator he comes.... i was thrilled....</div><div>he comes and hugs me soooo tight.... he stopped and pulled back to look me in my eyes and say, "i love you." he said it like seriously 15 times....</div><div>i'd told him several times that I loved spending time with him....</div><div>he just never said it back.</div><div>so i think that was his way of telling me that he loved me back....</div><div>"i love you. i love you. i love you," he just kept saying over and over.... </div><div>he wanted to go have lunch....</div><div>where he proceeded to tell me all that had happened....</div><div>how he read the card on his layover in arizona on the way there, and texted me then.... then he said he texted me when he landed in pittsburgh.... and how he texted me the first night and from then on.... and that he'd even tried calling.... reception wasn't the greatest, but he thought i was just ignoring his calls the whole time!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>NOOOO!!!! i wasn't ignoring his calls!!!! (cuz he wasn't fucking calling to begin with!!!!) <---- that's the present me again.... sorry.....</div><div><br /></div><div>i bought it.</div><div>every. last. bit. </div><div><br /></div><div>the reception.</div><div>it was bad.</div><div>he WAS trying to text me and call me all along.... he just couldn't stop hugging me....</div><div>telling me he was certain this was it....</div><div>he wanted to be together.....</div><div>he wanted to be my boyfriend....</div><div>he LOVED me....</div><div><br /></div><div>a few weeks had passed. </div><div>my dad had been hospitalized, having his left lung removed....</div><div>was there for over a month....</div><div>it was hard times...</div><div>but finally mr clean came around and was there....</div><div>super supportive.</div><div><br /></div><div>and then came the phone call, from my stepmom about a month later (end of October)....</div><div>she needed me.... </div><div>i jumped on a flight out that day and was in Tennessee....</div><div>to help her take care of my dad.</div><div>we bickered about me leaving at the drop of a dime for my father....</div><div>he said, "you just up and leave what you've started here."</div><div>"UMMMMM, I'M COMING BACK!!!! DUH!!!"</div><div>i didn't care if this upset him. </div><div>i just didn't.</div><div>i felt like, "EFF YOU! i sat here WAITING for you. not knowing WHAT THE FUCK you were doing on the OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY!!!! i am GOING TO TAKE CARE OF MY DAD! get the eff over it!" i didn't SAY that, but that's what i thought.... and that's pretty much what i argued.... minus the eff bombs.... (well maybe a few)....</div><div><br /></div><div>he didn't get it....</div><div>i stayed a week.</div><div>one week.</div><div>7 days...</div><div>i called him every chance i got.... </div><div>but really tried to enjoy the time i had with my dad.... (and stepmom)....</div><div>my dad was in poor shape.</div><div>such poor shape, that i contemplated staying longer....</div><div>i didn't know if i'd ever see him again....</div><div>but i went home....</div><div><br /></div><div>i came home to mr clean.</div><div>he missed me.</div><div>i thought he still had a chip on his shoulder but he was being AWFULLY lovey and going very far out of his way to show me how much he cared.....</div><div>was he hiding something? (of COURSE he was!!!! DUH you stupid insecure girl!!!!) <---present me....</div><div><br /></div><div>a few weeks of me being home had passed.</div><div>remember, mr clean, best friend (aka boss) and myself all lived at same community....</div><div>best friend was at my apartment one night and says, "ash, i need to tell you something..."</div><div>"shit! i'm getting fired! what did i do?" i thought to myself, but instead asked, "what?" i know my voice went down when i asked.... i knew it wasn't good news.... and so i waited....</div><div>"he tried to kiss me," she said.... </div><div><br /></div><div>"what?! when?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"while you were gone...."</div><div><br /></div><div>"when?! when were you around him for him to try to kiss you?" i asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>she explained to me, that she went to work out one night with another friend.... and called him on her way back to the property to see if he needed anything (which i find completely WEIRD to begin with, but whatever).... he wanted cigarettes.... wait, i thought he stopped smoking?! UGH! shit on top of shit on top of shit.... (bull. shit. that is....) but whatever.... she brought him cigarettes and delivered them to his apartment and didn't plan on staying, but he invited her in.... mind you, his apartment was very relaxing.... very welcoming.... he had his patio always lit with a candle on the folding table if he was sitting outside, with a glass (or 10) of wine.... windows were open.... music from his ipod hooked up to the television.... lights out.... candles lit everywhere.... that's just how it always was.... </div><div><br /></div><div>she went in....</div><div>he made her a drink.</div><div>MY favorite drink, mind you. (stupid details like that pissed me off at the time)....</div><div>they sat and talked....</div><div>for HOURS!!!!!</div><div>she proceeded to tell me his "complaints" about me....</div><div>and she shared her complaints about me to him....</div><div>what the fuck was this? an Ashley bashing session??!!!</div><div>apparently....</div><div>and apparently that turned him on....</div><div>they totally hooked up... he leaned in to kiss her.... shit just happened, whatever....</div><div>bottom line, i was just finding out about this now....</div><div>2 days before thanksgiving....</div><div><br /></div><div>i walked over to his apartment, helped myself in (door was unlocked).... he was already in bed, lights out.... well i flicked on EVERY light in the place....</div><div>i began RIPPING up the cards i had ever given him.</div><div>i started turning the place over....</div><div>getting all my shit...</div><div>my shampoo. </div><div>my loofa.</div><div>my toothbrush.</div><div>all.</div><div>my.</div><div>shit.</div><div><br /></div><div>i started throwing the shreds of the cards at him.... he gets on his phone and instantly calls her....</div><div>i SMACKED the fucking phone off his stupid ass bald head and it fell to the floor. </div><div>i ended the call.</div><div>and screamed at the top of my lungs at his face....</div><div>i wanted to smack his face....</div><div>every part of me wanted to smack his face.</div><div>but i didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>i gathered myself (and my shiiiiit) and went back home.... </div><div>waiting for the police to come banging on my door.</div><div>they never came.</div><div>i thought for sure i'd get in trouble for something like disturbing the peace or something....</div><div>but i didn't....</div><div>no one called..... </div><div><br /></div><div>i fell asleep crying.</div><div>on my living room floor that night.</div><div>at my computer....</div><div>i fell asleep with a clogged nose....</div><div>that i couldn't breathe out of....</div><div>i wanted to pound their faces.</div><div>both of them....</div><div>it hurt.</div><div>i hurt.</div><div>i felt broken....</div><div>betrayed.</div><div>and very very broken.....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-83108340780941618142010-05-22T17:02:00.000-07:002010-05-25T08:35:12.153-07:00the versatile blogger award.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia99He3uXnVfUdg2Cwr6XkE9mbT5SDFtC85kEygR8A4L04aiaYBhDpTedpjKxIcUMzh9rVDBLHLAxQo40v0vmDNYD4UFIWdbZ1ic3VMUd5OzEc63PTaGXgP9p3sKe-L7Pwlmf5sGzPic14/s1600/versatile-bloggeraward.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia99He3uXnVfUdg2Cwr6XkE9mbT5SDFtC85kEygR8A4L04aiaYBhDpTedpjKxIcUMzh9rVDBLHLAxQo40v0vmDNYD4UFIWdbZ1ic3VMUd5OzEc63PTaGXgP9p3sKe-L7Pwlmf5sGzPic14/s320/versatile-bloggeraward.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474249511273740306" /></a>a big thank you to Ms. Anthropy over at "Ms. Anthropy... Sarcastic Granny," who awarded me with this "versatile blogger" award.... <div><br /></div><div>she is a suuuper sweet lady, with a great sense of humor and probably the BEST commenter in the world....</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); line-height: 20px; "><span style="font-size: medium; ">Following the rules of this award I have to give you seven tidbits about myself that you may not know. Pass the award on. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium; ">1. I just got my wisdom teeth out on friday. it sucked.<br />2. i had a crush on my husband when i was lik 10. he didn't even know i existed.<br />3. I cry a lot. like when i watch extreme makeover: home edition. intervention sometimes. (if the people aren't completely crazy and actually want to clean up their lives.... i like that).<br />4. i will be getting lasik eye surgery, actually it's a procedure called PRK because my corneas are a bit too thin.... probably within the next few weeks here.... because i'm legally blind. without my contacts or glasses, i can't see anything.... everything is just smudged together.<br />5. I have a dry erase board in my living room with my bills on it, the due date and the amount owed, because if i put the board (or the bills anywhere else, it's likely i'll forget about them)....</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); line-height: 20px; "><span style="font-size: medium; ">6. I get carsick..... always have. i even threw up in my pillowcase once.<br />7. i don't like history, but am taking it online right now.<br /></span></span></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-36054082638159044522010-05-18T22:32:00.000-07:002010-05-18T23:06:13.319-07:00mr clean (part 2)<a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/05/beginning-of-mr-clean.html">the beginning of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mr</span>. clean</a><div><br /></div><div>so.... 2 days before she was supposed to be headed back to the east coast, i get a call from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mr</span> clean. </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">i'm</span> sitting at my desk at work.</div><div>he called the office phone.</div><div>i give my introduction and then i hear his voice. "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ashley</span>?"</div><div>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">uhhh</span>, yeah?"</div><div>"can you sneak away for a bit and meet me over in the parking lot at the grocery store?" he asks.</div><div>"what? where are you? why?" i am completely confused.</div><div><br /></div><div>i think (but do not say), "first of all, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">i'm</span> working. second, where is your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">blonde</span> babe at? you've completely ditched me for her this past week. why the EFF do you want me to meet you in the parking lot of the stupid grocery store that she's been walking to to get groceries to make your stupid ass dinner every night..... and if you didn't think i saw the flowers she was carrying... i did.... and if you think i didn't see you guys sitting out on the porch where you and i used to sit? well, i did!!" </div><div><br /></div><div>it's like my mind kind of drifted to where I have been these past few days.... what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">IIII</span> have been doing to fill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">MYYYY</span> time while he's been with her.... i wondered if he'd seen me stumbling around the property, making my way over to my best friend's apartment (who happened to live on the same side of the complex as him).... i wonder if he had any idea how completely DRUNK i was after having 2 bottles of my OWN wine BY MYSELF!!!! i wonder if he saw that.... or if he saw me walking my dog.... BY MYSELF.... i knew he COULD see me from his patio, but i wondered if he did.... </div><div><br /></div><div>anyway, back to his call.... </div><div><br /></div><div>"i went into work today, but they let me go early. i needed to come talk to you. i need to see you," he said.</div><div>"let me see what i can do." and i REALLY went and asked if i could take an extended break and that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">i'd</span> stay late to cover the time i was gone.... </div><div>my best friend just so happened to be my boss.</div><div>she knew the situation and said "don't be long."</div><div>i hopped in my car and drove to the grocery store parking lot and hopped into his truck. </div><div>he went on to tell me how these past few days had been <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">sooo</span> rough....</div><div>not being able to see me....</div><div>or talk to me.... </div><div>they've been driving him nuts....</div><div>he told me he'd called his dad and his dad could sense the hesitation and hurt in his voice....</div><div>and i TOTALLY fell for this shit...</div><div>kind of.</div><div>i think my gut new otherwise...</div><div>but ignore the gut....</div><div>i wanted to hear more weepy shit.</div><div>his eyes watered as he proceeded to tell me how he couldn't wait for her to go back home. how he was going to tell her that night that he wanted to be with me.... that he didn't want to continue to lead her on.... he was going to tell her tonight.... and then she would leave and everything would be magical and wonderful with us again, just like it was....</div><div>i wanted to believe that.</div><div>and so i did.</div><div>against my better judgment i totally believed that....</div><div>or at least i pretended to....</div><div> </div><div>i felt all strong and like i had the upperhand....</div><div><br /></div><div>i think he knew he was in again....</div><div>i was still there.</div><div>i hadn't gone anywhere.... not yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>she left.... </div><div>and he came to me the day she left.... just like he'd done on my birthday the month before.... </div><div>only this time, i had had enough.</div><div>i wasn't going to do this again.</div><div>if she came out here again, i wasn't going to sit through it again....</div><div><br /></div><div>"did you sleep with her?" i'd asked.</div><div>he looked down, almost like a punished little boy....</div><div>"ash.... c'mon. i don't wanna talk about... ugh." and he kinda shook his shoulders in disgust.</div><div>he looked up at me, "once. only once, and it made me sick. all i could do was think of you the whole time."</div><div><br /></div><div>ONCE! YAY! ONLY ONCE!!!! i couldn't believe i was actually RELIEVED to know it was only ONCE!!!! and not every single night while she was there!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>august went on, and september was approaching.... he told me about his friend's wedding on the east coast.... the east coast just so happened to be the same state that "she" lived in.... hmmm i thought to myself.... "i wonder if she's going to go." but i didn't ask. i didn't want to scare him away. he wasn't technically my boyfriend, so i'd just sit back and see what else comes up... i'll just enjoy the time we spend together..... and then the distance began. he wanted a little bit more space again.... and the date rapidly approached. i didn't even KNOW if he was going to see her or not.... i didn't know if he would be taking her with him to the wedding or not.... </div><div><br /></div><div>and i didn't. even. ask.</div><div><br /></div><div>no, i just went along with life like it was grand and peachy and cheerful with a cherry on top.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'd watched the movie "the secret" and fell in love with the movie. i wrote out about 10 pages of notes on the film and decided at the last minute, to make him a little booklet with some of the sayings.... after all, that's what he loved about me.... my optimism.... </div><div><br /></div><div>so i made this cute little book (about wallet sized) with a few great sayings.... hole-punched it and tied it together with some ribbon and had a card written out to him. it was just a friendly card, wishing him a safe and fun trip. i let him know how much i enjoyed spending time together and all that we were doing.... and blah blah. i really don't remember what it said, but i DO remember it was more of a friendly card than a lovey card. i wasn't lovey at that point. </div><div><br /></div><div>so i had gone over to his apartment the night before he was leaving to go out of town. i slipped the card and booklet into his carryon, in the side pocket.... it worked out perfectly. the "not knowing if she was going to be there with him or not", was beginning to eat me alive.... and that night, i'd asked.... "are you going to see her while you're there? is she going with you to the wedding?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"i don't know ashley. i have no idea. i haven't decided yet."</div><div><br /></div><div>but he seemed so.... <i>ANGRY</i> that i asked him.... </div><div>instantly, i felt guilty for asking, but then quickly snapped out of the guilt and snapped into feeling entitled. "well dammit! i deserve to know if you're going to the wedding with that whore!" okay, no i didn't say that, but i thought it, and apparently my attitude showed that that was exactly how i felt. we said goodbye, not on the best of terms, and he said he'd be home in a week. i had offered to watch his dog and walk her and feed her for the week that he was gone. he declined. he had hired a dogwalker to come by, 3 times a day, $20 a time.... that was $60 a day that i had offered to save him and he declined.... </div><div><br /></div><div>i should have known his plans were of some other sort.... something other than a 7 day trip to the east coast for his friend's wedding.... </div><div><br /></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-10911872044024046322010-05-17T16:12:00.000-07:002010-05-18T12:30:48.953-07:00the beginning of mr. clean.<div style="text-align: left;">although you all know how this one ended up.... there was still soooo much more to this "relationship." forgive me if i repeat a few things....</div><div><br /></div><div>i used to live by a lake..... a beautiful lake....</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnbNZKvUgQfUToWldgKChu52Iwe3Wi0HSIdt_lEPHMhtyTDs8wctMzElgYmB4kZ7k1QOE8WF36Q8xD5JV9u3YzQNrooNr6HR4hvxo-VBF6Y1l1OHQqYCc3wfGQFrAyOUKpEb50LKivxYL/s1600/IMG_2065.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnbNZKvUgQfUToWldgKChu52Iwe3Wi0HSIdt_lEPHMhtyTDs8wctMzElgYmB4kZ7k1QOE8WF36Q8xD5JV9u3YzQNrooNr6HR4hvxo-VBF6Y1l1OHQqYCc3wfGQFrAyOUKpEb50LKivxYL/s320/IMG_2065.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472381900174727602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(this is the beautiful lake on a warm summer night, when taylor and i packed a picnic for dinner and watched the sun set) =)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">anyway.... i don't exactly remember how we ended up exchanging numbers, i really don't. all i remember is one night, we ran into each other at the jacuzzi.... it was late.... we went home and we had texted a couple times. we both couldn't sleep. it was apparent. i was going to go for a walk, because it was the middle of june and it was so warm out still.... he asked if he could join. and he did.... and we walked to the lake and sat there for a while.... a long while.... so long, that we actually were still there when the sun began to rise.... i had to work later that day.... so i insisted on going home. he invited me back to my place.... and although there was a huge part of me that wanted to go there, an even bigger part of me wanted to go back home.... i knew it was the right thing to do.... and i did... i went home.... and he texted me.... continuously.... i shut off my phone.... i had a lot of willpower at that point.... i was set in my ways, at least a little bit.... he'd come in the office to ask a silly question.... (mind you i was working at the office of our apartment community).... i had leased him his apartment.... he'd come by when i was helping people just to drop off a coffee and/or pastry. if i was out touring someone around the property, he'd sneak in and leave cards and notes in my desk.... or on my car.... he was good at what he did.... i should have known then.... from the beginning.... there was another girl.... in another state.... who loved him for the very same reasons.... but i didn't know that.... not yet at least....</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i knew she existed.... she was here in california before. they worked at one of the nearby hospitals together.... she was a traveling nurse. only out here for a few months, and those few months were spent with him.... before he and i spent the evening at the lake.... but she left.... she went back to the east coast when he (supposedly) had asked her to stay.... he told me how he didn't believe she was in it for the long haul and that he didn't know how he felt about her leaving.... he said he didn't feel the same for her.... you see, SHE was married, but "going through a divorce." .... some jerry springer shit there, right? i liked a guy who liked a girl who was married, but leaving her husband to be with the guy that i liked, who didn't know if he liked her anymore because she left to go back to her husband so she could "end things officially," (or whatever) and then come back to the guy that i liked who didn't know if he even wanted to be with her because now he REALLY liked me!!!! oooooooo yay!!!! i picked a good guy, right?! RIGHT?! he REALLY liked me the best!!! i was the one he wanted to be with!!! i was better than everyone else!!!! yyyyaaaaay me!!! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">(not).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we walked our dogs.</div><div style="text-align: left;">together.</div><div style="text-align: left;">we cooked dinner.</div><div style="text-align: left;">together.</div><div style="text-align: left;">well usually he cooked for me....</div><div style="text-align: left;">he loved to cook.</div><div style="text-align: left;">his apartment was immaculate.</div><div style="text-align: left;">always.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he had very little belongings, </div><div style="text-align: left;">but just enough stuff.</div><div style="text-align: left;">everything was arranged perfectly </div><div style="text-align: left;">and it always smelled clean.</div><div style="text-align: left;">(i should have known then that something was wrong.... guys aren't very CLEAN creatures. at least not obsessive like that).... </div><div style="text-align: left;">anyway.... i didn't know anything was wrong.</div><div style="text-align: left;">nor did i think anything was wrong even though he downed a bottle of wine by himself, </div><div style="text-align: left;">every.</div><div style="text-align: left;">single.</div><div style="text-align: left;">day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">no, i kept going on, enjoying our conversations we had....</div><div style="text-align: left;">i felt like he was really opening up to me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">like i was really getting to know him.....</div><div style="text-align: left;">i should have known when he blindsided me and told me he used to be addicted to heroin and was in rehab, having relapsed twice.... that something wasn't right.... (but he was clean for 11 years.... that made up for the prior heroin addiction).... </div><div style="text-align: left;">the stories he proceeded to share with me (only AFTER a few glasses of wine) just blew my mind.... </div><div style="text-align: left;">wow! how did he come out "on the other side?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">little did i know.... he wasn't on the other side.... he was still on the shitty side... i was just blind. and dumb. and blind. and dumber.... in fact, i was likely the dumbest.... </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">august 4th, he told me she was coming out to see him in 3 days.... he gave me a 3 days notice.... and said that he didn't know she was coming, or WHY she was coming.... said she only gave him a 3 days notice.... and that she was going to stay for a week.... he was nearly pleading with me to please give him a break and not hold this against him.... he would have never invited her out here.... but that she planned on staying with him....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"WHY?!" i asked. "WHY are you LETTING her stay with you, when she didn't even give you a notice that she was coming?!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't remember his answers, but whatever they were, must have sounded good enough at the time.... </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i went against everything i would have ever stood up for before, and said "okay. i'm here whenever you are free to talk.... i'm here."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i'd get a text message randomly. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and one day. </div><div style="text-align: left;">2 days before she was supposed to leave i got a phone call from him.....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-18652650076686520502010-05-17T09:32:00.000-07:002010-05-17T09:36:33.948-07:00hello.hello everyone. <div><br /></div><div>when i'd originally started this blog, i started it with the intention of shifting my negative past from my main "happier" blog, "<a href="http://ashleydking.blogspot.com">Our Journey Begins As The Kings...."</a> (the link will take you there, if you're at all interested)</div><div><br /></div><div>although i am at a much better place in my life now, it wasn't always that way.... i tend to post a whole lot more on my main blog, so forgive me for not posting as often as i'd like to on here!!</div><div><br /></div><div>If you'd like to hop on over to the happier side of my life, feel free to do so and join me over there!! If not, it's totally okay, and i'm just glad you're here!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you for following my bumpy, shitty past, and still coming back for more of the crazy me.</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-58307660080136706832010-05-15T10:11:00.000-07:002010-05-15T10:14:12.670-07:00don't worry. it's just her brain tonight.<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">i'm lost....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">lay back down....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">it's only my thoughts again....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">no need to run to a computer.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">there's no cross street or freeway to lead me from....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">it's just my brain again.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">never shutting off, </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">just like it never does....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">or staying on, </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">just like it always does....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">she's runnin' tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">she's alone tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">she's insane tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">she felt free tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">like a bird tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and she ate tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with good souls tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and she prayed tonight...</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">that she lay tonight,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with good dreams tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and no fears tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">but her mind ran tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">so far from sight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">she got lost tonight,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">from all that's right....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and she picked a fight,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with her soul tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and now she cries tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">cuz nothing feels so right.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">maybe she's lost sight,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">from what felt right....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">so she prays again tonight....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">that she will see the light....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">when she sleeps tonight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">again, alone tonight.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">-originally written on 8/4/08, in a constant battle with.... <i>myself</i></span></p>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-63535453959513405502010-05-05T10:24:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:05:51.437-07:00maybe it's just pride (originally written 8/18/08)<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the gaps between your actions.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and the words you speak aloud</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">show the lack of your intention,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">or maybe you're just proud.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">but you disappoint the miniature,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">who can't wait to wear your shirt,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">or watch a movie with you.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">or kiss away your hurt.....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">her big brown eyes look up to you,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she watches when you go....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she’s soaking up your actions,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">so much more than you know.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">she puckers her lips </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and she closes her eyes....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">if only you knew, like i do,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the way that she cries....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">quit digging the holes,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that make the distance between....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the things that you say,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and the things that you mean....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the gaps between your actions.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and the words you keep inside,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">show the lack of your intention,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">or maybe it's your pride....</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-originally written on 8/18/08, shortly after JD returned from Iraq. had so many promises and big hopes for sweet T.... awfully big dreams coming from such a small man....</span></p>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-47233526492159526752010-05-02T10:24:00.000-07:002010-05-02T11:02:04.762-07:00year round clown (about mr clean, originally written in 8/08)<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">year round clown.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">tell me your day.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">when you wake in the morning.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">does the sun shine through the cracks in your blinds?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">do black curtains hang,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the non see through kind?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">year round clown.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">tell me your style.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">do you wake in the morning</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">with a smudged painted on smile?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">year round clown.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">tell me this....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">do you remember the last time</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">your lips tasted a kiss?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a kiss with such passion,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">any love put behind it....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">or were the lips made of candy,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and bullshit behind it???</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">does your happy music play looped....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">in your happy clown suit....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">do you blow up balloons,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and twist them into hats....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">how 'bout if she asks,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">would you do acrobats?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and she'll face you in bed,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">softly touch your bald head....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">as the paint washes away,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">you'll want her to stay....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and her smile will fade,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">just like the love that we made....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana; min-height: 13.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and it's then you will realize,</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">you've let another one down....</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">you can't continue to fake</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 13.0px; font: 11.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">who you are all year round....</span></span></p>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-44787008339756973682010-04-30T21:51:00.000-07:002010-05-02T11:02:18.906-07:00flowers (and bullshit) for the last time.You all remember mr. Clean. The one who screwed my best friend while I was in TN with my dying father.<br /><br />Well, I had saved some of his last words to me (which was at the beginning of mine and jason's relationship. I had actually made some other blog about telling people how much you love them before it was too late or some crap like that and i only say "or some crap like that" because what this dude had for me was not love, and i only know that now), because for the first time, it didn't phase me.... Any other time in my life, I probably would have cried and gone running back, but not this time. I already KNEW jason was beyond special....<br /><br />And for once, I did something "unstupid."<br /><br />Mr clean was the ICU nurse. Remember?<br />_____________________________<br /><br /><br />she was 66....and had mainly respiratory issues....One by one, we attempted to fight off her issues.we placed tubes, lines, drains, tried to stop her bleeding....all to no avail. her husband and i spent a good amount of time talking about her being on the ventilator with all the medicated drips and such, and i listened as he talked about their 45 years of marriage, the good and the bad. he said their love carried them through a lot of ups and downs in that time. He asked why he had to be put in this spot.... to make the call regarding her life support. I related to him a story about you calling me about being power of attorney and said that you knew without question that i would uphold your wishes, no matter how difficult....he squinted his eyes and said, "you love her don't you?".... i said, "yes, yes i do.... very much." after that i stood behind him while he was at her bedside, her face a blue gray hue, he kissed her and held her hand a while.Then he stood up, turned around and told me to turn off the drips and to take the tube out of her mouth, that she would never have wanted to be this way. As much as he wanted to cling to the hope of her recovery, he knew that she chose to be with him for 45 years for the strength he now had to muster. After she passed, i let him grieve for a while.... he cried. He would never lay next to her, be kissed by her, be yelled at by her, and only once more will he give her flowers. My eyes were apparently red and moist as he then put his hand on my shoulder and said that i needed to forgive myself. I gave a blank stare and told him that I was here for him and that i'm good. He asked how many times I'd been in this situation. I said,"several....though each passing is unique.". He said to me then, just before he left, that I carried him through the process. HE said that without my guidance he may not have been able to tap into the strength required to see the plain view. I said something snappy like "that's what i'm here for." Then he looked deep into my eyes and said that each of the souls I help to release weighs a burden on mine, a burden that needs resolved. He asked if the girl I loved eased those burdens when I got home. I looked up and said, "someday." he once again told me to forgive myself and that he admired my spirit. It's almost as if I can feel his loss, waking up cold, alone, when not long ago he relished in a loving relationship. No more "honey do you want coffee?" to be echoed through the house... just the faint sounds of the world outside the walls he now weeps behind, an occasional random creek of the floor or the bump of a closing drawer.<br />____________________________<br /><br />Yeah, you're right! Ya better move on, ya big douche nozzle (the part that actually goes in the, well you know)!!! That's what you get for bangin my best friend!!!! Pssssh! Put DAT in your book!!!<br /><br />Burrrrnn....<br /><br />(P.s. To the ex, not the poor grieving old man)Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-15695181029996293352010-04-22T18:01:00.000-07:002010-05-02T11:02:32.752-07:00Time's undone. (originally written on November 24th 2005)excuse me.<div>please ignore,</div><div>the countless times before....</div><div>the times I said to leave,</div><div>but stood there pulling on your sleeve.</div><div>begging you to stay,</div><div>fighting so hard to push away....</div><div>i'm weak.</div><div>i'd flee...</div><div>somehow you've still won,</div><div>defeat....</div><div>the tears,</div><div>they're dry....</div><div>they cannot fill my eyes...</div><div>i tried, </div><div>to stand.</div><div>i'm walking on my hands....</div><div>it's raw....</div><div>i'm done.</div><div>it's ended,</div><div>time's undone....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-54381815877577103792010-04-22T17:58:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:07:38.580-07:00Nightcrawler. (originally written on may 17th 2005)belittle me.<div>put me down,</div><div>to a stair that rests below you.</div><div>and i fall to my knees,</div><div>like the one</div><div>you say i am.</div><div>and try to climb my way back up,</div><div>but i only end up at your feet.</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-66922594127397910472010-04-21T09:54:00.001-07:002010-05-06T10:05:35.244-07:00a selfish man's soul.<div style="text-align: left;">7 yrs.</div><div>4 months.</div><div>3 weeks.</div><div>and 2 days old.</div><div><br /></div><div>there's so much resentment built up.</div><div>and damages no one, but me.</div><div>the resentments are so far repressed,</div><div>that most of the time, i barely even know they exist.</div><div>but they do.</div><div>and every now and again, i know, very much so, that they exist....</div><div><br /></div><div>you've had the leisure to do with your time as you've pleased.</div><div>to go to the gym.</div><div>to do homework.</div><div>to go on a date.</div><div>to go to a party.</div><div>to drink.</div><div>to dance.</div><div>to vacation.</div><div>to be everywhere else, but here.</div><div>you've had the leisure to do with your time as you've pleased.</div><div><br /></div><div>you've lived south of us.</div><div>they've all lived north of us.</div><div>we were right in between.</div><div>but the phone calls never came,</div><div>when you'd pass our house.</div><div>you'd just continue driving north,</div><div>in one of your many new cars....</div><div><br /></div><div>what a selfish man's soul does not know,</div><div>is the pricetag on a child's life....</div><div>the cost to raise a child.</div><div>the food they eat.</div><div>the doctor's appointments.</div><div>the childcare.</div><div>the clothes.</div><div>the fundraisers.</div><div>the games.</div><div>the hobbies.</div><div>the cost of a home in an area worth living in,</div><div>where you don't fear your child's safety,</div><div>and you know they are receiving a wonderful education.</div><div><br /></div><div>what a selfish man's soul does not hear,</div><div>are the whimpers of her cries....</div><div>"i'm hungry."</div><div>"i don't feel well."</div><div>"i want. i want. i want."</div><div>"i don't wanna take a bath."</div><div>"i don't wanna go to bed."</div><div>"i don't wanna eat that."</div><div>"i don't wanna go to the dentist."</div><div>"where's my other shoe?"</div><div>"where's my homework?"</div><div>"what should i wear?"</div><div>"what should i eat for breakfast?"</div><div>"how do you spell....?"</div><div>"look!"</div><div>"look it!"</div><div>"mom! look!"</div><div>"mom!"</div><div>"mom!"</div><div><br /></div><div>what he can't smell,</div><div>is her freshly brushed breath,</div><div>blowing in your face to ensure she's brushed well enough.</div><div>he can't smell,</div><div>her freshly washed hair</div><div>that smothers your face when she hugs you goodnight.</div><div>a selfish man's soul cannot smell</div><div>the dirt on her hands when she's fallen in the sand from jumping off the monkey bars,</div><div>or swings.</div><div>you can't smell the freshly baked brownies,</div><div>she excitedly awaits to finish baking....</div><div>she mixed them herself, you know.</div><div><br /></div><div>what a selfish man's soul doesn't feel</div><div>are her arms around his neck.</div><div>or her lips pressed to your cheek.</div><div>you cannot FEEEEL her love from a distance.</div><div>you cannot FEEEEL her pain.</div><div>you cannot FEEEEL her heart's desires.</div><div>her wants.</div><div>her yearns.</div><div>you can't FEEEEL any of that.</div><div><br /></div><div>a selfish man's soul cannot see</div><div>the growth in her height.</div><div>her crooked smile.</div><div>her face light up when she figures something out.....</div><div>her gappy smile, when she loses another tooth.</div><div>you cannot see the letters she writes to the toothfairy or to Santa Claus.</div><div>you cannot read the books she writes.</div><div>(unless of course I order extra copies for you)....</div><div>you cannot see the work she does at school, unless i show it to you.</div><div>you do not donate money for her to win a prize,</div><div>as she jumpropes to help children with sick hearts.....</div><div>you cannot see her glue foam hearts together and lay them all out for every member in her family....</div><div>you cannot see the distance that she feels.</div><div><br /></div><div>she needs not my words to figure it out.</div><div>i leave them out.</div><div>she is above and beyond any level of intelligence you could ever imagine.</div><div><br /></div><div>but a selfish man's soul....</div><div>would never know,</div><div><br /></div><div>the goodness of her good soul....</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8vKZ2OLbPf0z0mz2h1TyMETmMTiZRn1g57Fo4DQaT2rkj7xKwlKmmA4oK1YIQcNNVDE674Pt2Cpt5KmU8HLoxDDlmwZk9260_Edf3T6a_inkEpIsSe4ACVlnxFWzRR8yi6LfHD6MiF9E/s1600/IMG_2187.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8vKZ2OLbPf0z0mz2h1TyMETmMTiZRn1g57Fo4DQaT2rkj7xKwlKmmA4oK1YIQcNNVDE674Pt2Cpt5KmU8HLoxDDlmwZk9260_Edf3T6a_inkEpIsSe4ACVlnxFWzRR8yi6LfHD6MiF9E/s320/IMG_2187.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462635364698122370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5YtKnZygvApj0uwiAmyG-EW8usAwGgpCSg4tETAVE9k231hE0_TFSVyq7_vqv2P6qF_3WnT-2J8Oi5CdaChk2NkF80N0RS_rawvgD6yy_dHrLPXEStxrQNQ3hZr0kCrtz3l2V8vDjic/s1600-h/IMG_2187.JPG"></a></div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-7261321724534835052010-04-21T08:52:00.000-07:002010-04-21T08:53:30.026-07:00a bit of advice.Couples (and/or families) who play together,<div>stay together....</div><div><br /></div><div>so play (and laugh, genuinely) often! =)</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-44679843669374972832010-04-20T08:55:00.000-07:002010-04-20T09:27:55.069-07:00that's not love. that's just some codependent shit right there.let me tell you this.... overlapping relationships, just doesn't work very well....<div>no, it just doesn't work at all.</div><div>well, it could....</div><div>but it's not healthy....</div><div>and if and WHEN you DO get into the right relationship, you don't ever want to look back with any type of regret, that you weren't totally COMMITTED to either one.</div><div>i don't mean you're screwing two people at the same time....</div><div>i mean that you are emotionally invested in more than one person at a time....</div><div>it's lethal.</div><div>so is sleeping with 2 people at a time, and i could really go off on a tangent about this one, but i'll leave it at "it's lethal. just don't do it."</div><div><br /></div><div>i've clearly overlapped relationships on multiple occasions without even realizing it at the time....</div><div>before jason, was probably the best i'd ever felt "alone."</div><div>and by "alone" i mean, still having people to talk to, but committed to none of them....</div><div>i finally felt independent and like i was doing the things that IIIII wanted to do....</div><div>felt like i was being a great mom.</div><div>a good daughter (i think).</div><div>a good sister and friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>after i broke up with <a href="http://stewpidgirls.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-boyfriend-her-lingerie.html">mr clean,</a> i still felt this obligation to take care of his feelings....</div><div>i was the one who left that relationship against everything he ever wanted.</div><div>he fought it like hell, but i was SO not in it anymore.</div><div>i even started thinking i really cared about one of my guy friends, which was totally just wrong and not true.... </div><div>i thought that because i was the one leaving the relationship, and he was hurt, i had some OBLIGATION to help him through his shitty feelings....</div><div>"i don't hate you," i'd tell him multiple times a week.</div><div>"i just don't trust you. i couldn't ever trust you and i don't want to live the rest of my life like that."</div><div>you know, there was one point in our relationship (the very beginning of it, before we were ever together, that i imagined the type of happiness i had felt to last a lifetime)....</div><div>i knew that the type of happiness i had felt was the one that i wanted with my lifetime partner....</div><div>that just so happened to not be him, and i knew that fairly quickly.</div><div>i couldn't EVER picture walking down an aisle to him.</div><div>after all that had happened.</div><div>i couldn't imagine who my maid of honor would be.</div><div>certainly not the one who messed around with him.</div><div>because how awkward would that be?</div><div>my family wouldn't be supportive of the marriage....</div><div>something MUST be wrong...</div><div>it was just wrong on a million different accounts, and like i said, i never once thought i could marry that man.... </div><div>that should have been my clue to leave....</div><div>but it wasn't.</div><div>but eventually i did.... </div><div>and that's when Jason came in the picture,</div><div>when i had least (at the VERY LEAST) expected it....</div><div>that night is SOOOO fresh in my mind.... still. =) ahhh. new love.</div><div><br /></div><div>you see, Jason and I had come out of crappy relationships (both of our exes had cheated on us; both of us tried to continue the relationship in hopes of feeling the same; both of us feeling like we had the upper hand now; both of us realizing how stupid we were to have tried to make it work out; and both of us eventually getting out of the relationships).... the relationships had both ended less than a year prior to us meeting.... i didn't have high expectations. </div><div>high hopes?</div><div>maybe.... </div><div>great expectations?</div><div>none.</div><div><br /></div><div>we both still felt OBLIGATED (for whatever reason) to "help our exes through their feelings about the break up." stupid right? </div><div><br /></div><div>well we did.</div><div>jason still talked to his ex on occasion (which is another story, i won't get into, because for the first time in many years and at the very beginning of my pregnancy, a glimmer of that Giggity muthaflippin GHETTO reared its ugly ass head again) thankfully my husband is an extremely levelheaded man, who calmed me. </div><div><br /></div><div>anyway.... sorry about the distraction.... and then there was i, who would still answer mr clean's crying phone calls (in the beginning) and try to talk him through it and tell him there was no way we were going to get back together and that one day he'd move on and be very happy too.... and he would just apologize and all this stuff and it was just stupid.</div><div>why did i waste so much time on that?</div><div>i thought, "ohhh, well, because i did care for him very much at one time, and i'm just not the type of person to shut someone out like that, no matter what..." and "oh, that's just not me... i wouldn't want someone to do that for me...." or "that is what sets me apart from everyone else." blah blah blah.... BULLSHIT! </div><div><br /></div><div>i <s>am</s> was VERY codependent! </div><div>i, for whatever FLIPPING reason, felt it very necessary to be the shoulder that everyone in the world could cry on.</div><div>don't get me wrong, there is a huge part of me that still does this, but i am learning from this slowly.</div><div>if i wanted to be the freakin shithole for everyone to BARF in, i should have <s>been a toilet</s> gone to school to be a therapist, like i had originally wanted to out of high school.... sort of....</div><div><br /></div><div>i still like to help people through crap, and i am constantly trying to tell myself that i want to help people because i love them.... i'm not entirely convinced it's love.... i'm certain it's still codependency related shit. </div><div>HOWEVER, there is still an extremely hopeful side of me that would love to help a few people out, because if a few lives could be changed for the better, the world is a "few better people" closer to being a better place overall.... *insert "we are the world" music here* what a perfect theme for earth day (this thursday), right? </div><div><br /></div><div>anyway.... jason and i did this book "all about us" when we first got together and it was great. loved it. reading over it the other day, is what made me think about us talking to our exes and trying to "help them through their rough times".... thankfully, i didn't accept the invitation to go over to my ex's apartment, which was on the beach, and watch a movie with him....</div><div>i thought about it, and had almost even convinced myself that it would totally be okay, because i cared about jason soooo much that i wasn't going to do anything with mr clean. after talking it over with jason, he didn't think it was a good idea, and then i thought about it and thought, "if i care about jason THIS much, why in the WORLD would i POSSIBLY jeopardize what we have? to look back on this STUPID incident and blame myself for chipping away any of the innocence of a brand new relationship...." you know? </div><div><br /></div><div>like i said,</div><div>that wasn't love.</div><div>that was just some codependent shit right there....</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-398075149167134480.post-77451322465490990872010-04-18T15:07:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:07:24.249-07:00monty is short for "geek from montana" pt.2i was moving into my own place soon. actually i may have already moved.<div>we didn't have a dvd player.</div><div>i had gone snowboarding a few times. </div><div>enjoyed it.</div><div><br /></div><div>in a desperate attempt to reconcile, </div><div>monty bought me an xbox (when they first came out) and all the stuff i'd need to watch dvd's. (i think you needed some special remote kit thingy).</div><div>he bought matching snowboards (surprised me with this after he went to some snow show convention type thing).</div><div><br /></div><div>and a platinum /diamond ring.</div><div>the ring was cute,</div><div>but it was from him.</div><div>so i wouldn't wear it.</div><div>EVER.</div><div><br /></div><div>he made the mistake of giving it all to me....</div><div>i didn't return it at the time.</div><div>hell no.</div><div>i wanted a dvd player. </div><div>i had the paperwork to return the ring for $$.</div><div>and i could sell the snowboard.</div><div>i didn't want matching snowboards with HIM!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>(truth be told, </div><div>i did offer to give it all back to him.</div><div>but he didn't want any of it back.)</div><div><br /></div><div>i remember we had made a trip to costco while the wounds were still fresh. </div><div>for whatever reason, he wanted to tag along....</div><div>perhaps, it's because he wanted to pay the $300 shopping tab....</div><div>my trunk was full....</div><div>i dropped him back off at his apartment,</div><div>and carried a few things of his inside, when his phone rang....</div><div>i could hear the girl on the other end.... </div><div>"come outside," she said.</div><div>blood began to boil.</div><div>i knew it was frank's girlfriend again.</div><div>why the HELL is she calling? (i thought to myself)....</div><div>i looked at him.</div><div>he clearly didn't know what to do....</div><div>she said, "she's here isn't she? i see her car. come to the back alley now."</div><div>he said, "no. i'm not coming out."</div><div>i yell in the background, "BUT I AM!"</div><div>and headed for the alley.</div><div>i'm ready to throw down in the freakin back alley.</div><div>i'm ready to pound her face in, in front of him.</div><div>i'm ready to pop my trunk and be like, "ooooh, look what he just bought me!"</div><div>(i told you i was stupid!!!!)</div><div>again, it was about being the "Better one".... the "one he would choose over anyone else...."</div><div>(probably because i felt like my dad chose his wife over us.... like SHE was better than MEEE.... now for ONCE, iiiiii would be better than anyone else.... IIII would be the chosen one..... whatever. it's all retarded and hindsight's 20/20, right?)</div><div>anyway, i go out to the back (oh, by the way, there are 2 dozen red roses in my car that he had purchased from costco for me too...)</div><div>i walk out there and sure enough she's parked over by my car with 2 other girls in her car with her.</div><div>she rolls her window down, and all of a sudden, TODAY, she's feeling a lot braver than the last time we'd had an encounter with each other....</div><div>i remember her saying to monty, "i thought you weren't seeing her anymore?"</div><div>monty just stands there kinda dumbfounded, not having any idea as to what he should say....</div><div>i look at monty, with the meanest most intimidating look i have, and say, "oh really? we're not seeing each other anymore? is that why you just bought all of this?" *pushes keyless entry trunk popper opener thing and the trunk pops open* smoooooootttttth move, right? lol. yeah, pretty stupid looking back, but whatever. it worked out great at the time.... the xbox was right on top.... well the roses were on top of the xbox and my trunk was FILLED with crap (well the groceries were on top of all the other crap that was already in my car, so it made it look like he had likely spent thousands of dollars in purchases for me. ha!)</div><div>i'm beyond pissed at this point, and wanted to kick the shit out of her.... her car AND her.... but as angry as i was, i still feared the law more.... so i said something like, "you sure are acting a whole lot tougher now that you brought your back up with you. why don't you step out of the car and f****n do something.... that's what you came for, right?" *slight pause, nothing happens*</div><div>"get the f*** out of your car B***H!!!!" </div><div>*still nothing*</div><div>no one said anything.</div><div>not even the other girls she had with her....</div><div>monty's asking me to "please stop ashley, it's not worth it."</div><div>finally frank's gf says, "oh yeah? really? are you CHOOSING her? huh? are you?"</div><div>he looks at her, and looks at me and nods.... she waits for a moment, almost not believing what had just happened.... </div><div>then looks back up at me and says, "ohhh, and by the way. you wonder if we've been sleeping together? we have...." and away she drives.... </div><div><br /></div><div>i'm FURIOUS at this point....</div><div>yeah, sure he just "chose" me over HER, but none of that needed to take place.</div><div>i took the roses out of the car and threw them at him.... i got in my car to leave, and again, he jumped in between my door and car, so that i couldn't shut it....</div><div>i gave him a few short seconds to move.... he wouldn't, so i just started driving up the alley, yelling at him to get off my car... MIND YOU, he's HOLDING THE 2 DOZEN ROSES IN ONE HAND trying to put them in my car while trying to shut off my car at the same time!!!!</div><div>someone hears me screaming at him and calls the police.... they were there within seconds.... they pulled in the alley, facing me head on....</div><div>lights shining right at me to the point that i couldn't see <i>anything</i> in front of me.</div><div>all i could hear were their voices over the loud speaker telling monty to step away from my vehicle with his hands up and behind his head.... </div><div>"walk backwards towards me," the loud voice said....</div><div>he's walking backwards, now crying.....</div><div>they take him and slam him against the hood of their car and check all of him over. </div><div>in his right pocket, they find a folding knife....</div><div>they put him in handcuffs and in the back of their car.</div><div>for whatever reason, i called his mom (after i called mine).</div><div>both of our moms come.... he DOESN'T go to jail.</div><div>i am hysterical and end up being driven home.....</div><div>i'm pretty certain we still talked after that....</div><div><br /></div><div>but i was done.</div><div>checked out.</div><div>moved on.</div><div>in love?</div><div>nope.</div><div>stupid?</div><div>VERY!</div><div><br /></div><div>insecure.... beyond belief.... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>(jenni, did i leave something out?) lol.</div>Ashley Kinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04357402419830731995noreply@blogger.com10