Martin Makes Tea

This morning, I arose from my sleep at around nine o' clock. I lay abed letting waves of panic wash through my agitated little mind for awhile before I decided that this was NOT actually pleasant. The wise words of my WorkFriend Sparks danced into my thoughts ("Fuck your nervousness, meditate, goddammit!!") and I figured I'd give it a try. A few dizzying deep breaths later, and BOOM. Peace.

I woke up three hours later. Now, my choices were as follows:

1. Stay in bed and think about sex.

2. Go down to the bar for half-price wing night.

3. Read a book and drink beer.

4. Read a book and drink tea.

Well, my dear readers, find a seat for your bottom. Against all natural Martin Law, I picked #4. I hummed into the kitchen, practically vibrating with self-righteousness. I selected my tea, filled my Fiesta cup, and stared unceasingly at the microwave until it beeped. I opened the door and reached for my refreshing beverage.

It was then that disaster struck. My large, manly fingers became stuck in the hot little loop on the side of the cup. I shrieked in pained panic, and (reasonably) jerked my hand forcefully away from the cup of steaming liquid. To my deepest distress, the cup came with the fingers. With the cup came the boiling tea. 

I know we've talked about the importance of "wearing clothes in the kitchen". To my credit, I was wearing a robe. To NOT my credit, I was wearing it as a cape. 

It's going to be ok. I mean, nipples grow back, right?

Martin & Babies

This was a terrible week. My Buddy is old enough now to be aware of terrible things, and it breaks a Martin's heart. Most of you saw this already. My conversation with my boy follows. 

Buddy: Mimi, I'm not going back to school, ok?

Me: Why not, Buddy?

Buddy: (tears up) My friend told me that bad things happen at school. 

Me: Honey..

Buddy: I know you not want to tell me, I'm big, Mimi! I know that bad things happened yesterday and some of the people died. 

Me: (here I lie, because what the hell else can I do??) You don't have to worry, you are safe with me. 

Upon which he buries his face in my chest and weeps.  My sweet little boy. 

Go fuck yourself, Senate. 

He is scared to go to school. My six-year-old is scared to go to school. GiGi and I didn't listen to the radio today because I am simply not able to watch her little eyes lose that innocence yet. We shut that shit off and sang Hall & Oates songs together all the way home. There's a lot of bad shit out there, indeed there is, but my little girl singing "Kiss on my list" gives me hope. 

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I'm exhausted.  I'm sure we all are. It's time for hugs. 

Martin Meditates

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a fully factual account of my attempt at meditating.  The following took about eight minutes, give or take a few.  Well, hell, don't give or take a few - I timed myself and you all could've guessed that I wouldn't settle down to chill without a first glimpse at my sweet, sweet numbers.   Here we go:

Become prone on the soft, firm mattress.  Deep breaths...

Are deep breaths supposed to make me dizzy?  Because I'm dizzy.  I wonder where the cat is?  I need to buy some cat fo...huh, I'm kind of hungry.  Should I get up and eat here?  It's nice outside.  I should go to brunch.  Wait, fuck, I'm supposed to be meditating!

Ok, what does the meditation lady say?  Right.  Be aware of my body.  Got it.  Aware of my body.  Body, body, body.  Body in bed.  Body at rest. Body working hard to keep me alive. Thank you, body! Body, body, sex.  Sex, sexy sex.  No!  No sex!  Meditate, goddammit, Martin, meditate!  Can you not keep your mind out of the gutter for five damn minutes??

(to which a small voice always answers, "No.  No, we can't, and you know it." Damn you, small voice, for your unerring honesty.)

All right, now, deep breathing again and don't think about the fact that you are dizzy and therefore dying of some undiagnosed heart condition.  Nope, really don't think about that.  Did I pay my insurance this month? I should call my mom.  Deep breathing.  Forgive the self for being bad at meditation.  Remembering that I suck at forgiving anything of anyone.  Ruminate on past mistakes.

Rumination continues.  

Continues.

Continues.

If I listen hard, I can hear the people in the drive-through line at Wendy's order.  I bet you shouldn't have made that a combo, you Chunky McFatterson.  Oh, shit sandwich, Martin, you can't be judgmental when you meditate!

Huh, I wonder if my WorkFriend Sparks buried that dead dog she found yet.  I should check my phone to see if she texted.  Hey, neat, lots of texts!  Wow, my friends are funny.  I'm bored of this bed.  Meditation sucks.  I should tell everyone on Facebook how bad I am at it!

.............

 

Your Martin, dear ones, assiduously sucking at mental health since 1995.  It's all for you guys - don't you feel so stable and cool??  Yes, loves, you're welcome.  I'm taking my crazy on a walk now that I've reminded everyone on the internet of it.  Happy Sunday, and may you all know peace.

Martin Learns A Lesson

(in which I am reminded that children have ears which hear and mouths which repeat)

It was a beautiful Spring day today, one of the District's finest, and I was having a most excellent time with myself.  I decided to take my happy extra energy to Work #2, and I thought nothing of bringing little GiGi along with me.  All of my co-workers are quite kind to her, and I do not allow her to operate any power saws, so I feel that it is perfectly acceptable to drag Work #1 to Work #2.  To-day my task was simple:  make copies, drop off copies, get GiGi a treat.

I made the copies.
I drove the copies, myself, and GiGi to Work #2.
I took the copies to the office.
I put them on my desk.

Whilst in the office, one of my co-workers ducked in to request a lessening in the volume of the music in the store.  I was unable to assist her, but she did not abuse me in any way for my uselessness.  When she left the office, I reflected aloud upon her kindness and wisdom to GiGi.  Here is what I said, I swear to God.*

*I don't swear to God.  This next part is kind of a lie.**
**Partially untrue.
***Wholly and utterly a complete fabrication.

"My, GiGi, I certainly enjoy working with such a kind and intelligent person!  She is wise in the ways of the world and ever-so-pleasant, and I must needs say, little one, a most remarkable WorkFriend!  Of course, she is very inoffensive-looking as well, but goodness knows I don't judge women on their appearances.  It would be incredibly inappropriate to think salaciously about such an upright & God-fearing individual."

I didn't really think she was listening.

We left the office and began our trek through the crowded store.  Little GiGi was uncommonly quiet as she followed behind me and I was feeling thankful for her good behavior.  We neared the middle of the store and there was the co-worker I'd just discussed putting together some furniture on the floor.  The Good Lord in Its wisdom laid a blanket of unearthly silence over the store floor, and in that dearth of noise came my sweet little Gigi's voice.  To the aforementioned work colleague she yelled in youthful exuberance,

"HEY THERE, SEXY GIRL!!!

All motion in the store stopped, all my thoughts were extinguished, and I blushed a hot bright scarlet color that actually fogged up my glasses.  Attempting a "good nanny" rescue of the situation, I asked my tiny charge "Where did you hear THAT, sweetie?", with the appropriate amount of shock and horror in my voice.

"YOU SAID IT, MIMI!  IN THE OFFICE, 'MEMBER? YOU SAID SH..."

She became suddenly quiet, as I had thrust my mittened hand over her little mouth and was frantically pushing her towards the exit.  Our escape was almost good until I realized I'd forgotten something.  I begged her to play the "Quiet Mouse" game with me, we fetched the forgotten item, and we were almost out the door when Aforementioned Co-Worker appeared.  My ears turned a deeper purple, and as I backed towards the door away from her, she said - "You guys have a sexy day, now!"

I'm just glad the child didn't repeat what I ACTUALLY said to her, and yes.  I'm still blushing.

Martin's Prayer for A Date

Hey, God, please ignore everything else in the world that is way more important than me and take a microsecond to heed my desperate plea.  I'll totally owe you one.

Oh, Lord, I beseech Thee, please allow me to keep the full extent of my bat-shit craziness under wraps for at least tonight.  Protect me, God, from making horribly off-putting comments in my awkwardness, and may You cleanse my palate of animal sex jokes for just a few hours.  Please deliver me from nervous irritable bowels, and let me not make audible and/or horrific flatulence, especially when we're in the car and things get quiet.  May the things that I shaved today not burst into angry, rash-like razorburn until the date be over, and if the date ends without the need to take off my pants, let me not drunkenly beg for sex, for I am too old for such piercing humiliation.  Thank you, Lord.  In Your holy Name I pray.

Amen.

Martin Has A Friend

Trust me, it's a bigger deal than it seems.  Sure, I'm initially charming and interesting enough to intrigue someone, but as we all know I can be a touch...intense.  In the beginning stages of a relationship, maybe it's kind of interesting to have your partner do shit like throw a flaming pumpkin out of a fifth floor window, but when you find the cat in the refrigerator AGAIN, well - some ladies lose patience.  It's even rougher in a friendship, where seriously so-and-so has HAD IT up to HERE with the middle-of-the-night texting and mirror-punching and general bat-shitted-craziness, and they totally don't even want to SLEEP with you.

SIDENOTE:  That's my other problem with making friends.  I'm great at acquaintances, Facebook, & bar friends, but when it comes to real-life interaction I find myself mentally making vomiting gestures.  Also?  I'm not usually friends with women in whom I do not possess a sexual interest.  This is great until we end up sleeping together, which NEVER EVER WORKS.  EVER.  EVER.

Now in recent months, Martin's list of "People To Call When I Am Feeling A Touch Maniacal" suddenly and drastically got a LOT shorter.  Luckily at the same time a second job appeared, and weekends were immediately filled with something other than "what should I drink for breakfast?" and "Gee, I wish I could share this with someone besides my mom."  It had gotten to the point where my very best friend left the country for three weeks and I almost didn't notice she was gone - of course I missed her terribly, but what I'm trying to say here is that lonely has become the default.*

*This is not such a bad thing, either.  I'm not trying to incite sympathy here, I'm sharing an extrovert's reaction to a swiftly solo journey.

Enter my PhoneFriend. 

I'm not even sure how this started, but all of a sudden a week doesn't go by without us shrieking laughter and babbling bullshit at each other for less than three hours.  I have known this woman since she was born and our families are, well, family at this point.  We acolyted at St. Michael's Episcopal Church together.  We both had stunningly bad haircuts and thick, disgusting eyeglasses for way too long.  We bitched about our moms allllllll the way through puberty & adolescence.  In fact, she was the first person to whom I ever said "I'm not your friend anymore." (Do you remember that?  I'm sorry, by the way. If it makes you feel better, I got in BIG trouble.) I would go ahead and classify us both as a touch intense and - because I am female and referring to another female WITH LOVE AND RESPECT**, I can say this - we be's bitches, yo.

**That's another blog for you, gentlemen.  Short story? You don't get to call us bitches.***
***Even if you're gay.****
****SERIOUSLY.

I know, I know, you're all shaking your heads like "here it goes again, some fabulous woman that she just LOVES, guess I'll go ahead and start waiting for the bitter 'she don't love me no more' post" - it's OKAY, guys.  It's different this time.  Deep family ties + similar beliefs - sex (only because she's like my sister, not because she's not na-na-na-NAH!) + appreciation of fine drink & bitchery = FRIENDS!!  In an unusual twist, she's also not twenty years older than me and doesn't "mother" me.  I'm telling you, people, this friendship could WORK for longer than three months.

At any rate, Martin is very excited to drink with said friend over Christmas and say shitty things in code about everyone else in the room, and is also super-grateful to have her in my life in the current context.  God and everybody who follows me on Facebook sure knew that I needed a buddy! Happy Saturday, everyone - now that I have a healthy, adult friendship with someone I need to go keep trying to sleep with my co-workers.

Breaking Up With Martin

or "Lessons Learned In The Year Of The Bracelets"

I address you today, dear readers, from an actual computer.  We'll have to make this snappy, as I am on my mandatory unpaid dinner break - great for some folks, yippee-ki-yay unions and workers' rights but damn ya'll, it doesn't take me half an hour to eat a sack of combos and drink a Diet Mountain Dew.  At any rate, I would probably be thinking glumly about break-ups while I munched my snack and I'd MUCH rather have the satisfaction of a finished blog.  A finished bag of pepperoni pizza combos is just depressing, unlike this next list.  I present to you in all my wisdom

Run If You Hear This
aka She's Breaking Up With You, Dude

1.  "We need to talk."

Oh, where do we START with this one??  You always have to talk with your partner.  Announcing that you "need" to "talk"?  You can bet your sassy ass she's not wanting to chat about how awesomely things are going.

2.  "I've been thinking."

Mmkay, congratulations, sweetie.  I had assumed up until this point that because I do not generally date dullards that thinking was something in which you engaged on a regular basis.  Thank you for letting me know that your synapses are firing.  Excuse me while I get a beer, since clearly you have been thinking about leaving my ass (and the rest of me).

3. "I don't know what to say."

Yes, you do.  "I'm leaving you.  Bye."

3a.  I don't know what I'm saying.

YES, you DO.  "I'm leaving you. Bye.  Also, this is a really annoying passive attempt on my point to pretend like I'm not about to rock your world and devastate you completely.  Did it work?  No?  Ok. Well...let me try this next guy."

4.  "We can still be friends, right?"

No.  No.  Absolutely not.  Go away from me and leave me alone and in a few months I will be over it and want to be buddies, but for now?  Let me pretend that my heart is cold and that I can shut you out of my life with nary a peep of protest.  Getting dumped is dignity-shattering: do me the honor of pretending that you think I have any sort of self-pride.  We both know I'll be drunk-texting you in like three hours in tears. 

5.  "I'm not good for you."

This is so invalid I can't even...come ON.  I'M not good for me.  Your point is utterly moot.  You want good for me, my dear, I can ASSURE you that upset Martins tend to make decisions that don't end in clean clothes, restful sleep, the eating of fresh fruits, or the calm acceptance of the inevitable.

I could go on - my, oh MY, how I could go on!  My point is basically this, ladies:  I will almost always be utterly stunned by the end of a relationship.  Spare me your speeches.  Do not attempt to explain yourself.  Do not be kind, do not be gentle, do not hug me and pat me and comfort me sweetly.  To my next ex-girlfriend, I offer these words of advice re: breaking up with Martin.

1.  Say "I'm leaving you." - no preface, please.
2.  Hit me in the head with a two by four (I just like the aesthetics here, so satisfying!)
3.  Leave the jug of vodka by my head with a glass of ice.
4. Go away.
5. Block my number, if  you know what's good for you!

Thank you, my future dear.  I look forward to pretending like we have a future together before you leave me to go hook up with men!

Confidential to I Totally Know You're Reading This: You are great.  It's always good to see you.*
*That is so not confidential it's laughable.**
**Which makes me laugh.  Happy Saturday!