Happy Frickin' Thanksgiving!

Ok, you guys. I am gonna be out of town til Sunday, so I'm gonna try and get something new down here, for you, right now before I leave. I don't have much time, cuz I've got tons to do to get ready for my trip, so I apologize in advance if this ends up to be kind of a weak entry.

I went to my folks' for Thanksgiving and it was a great day, that is until my step mom wigged out on everybody about a pot of turkey noodle soup that we were making. I guess it was driving her nuts that we were still messing with it at 10:30 at night which made it impossible for her to get the kitchen completely tidied up before she was to go to bed. She is terribly anal and a complete control freak. Anyway, she demanded to know what we were gonna do about the soup and I calmly offered, "Why don't we just turn the stove down to simmer, cover the pot and let it cook slowly, overnight" "NO! I'm turning it off! It'll be fine til morning! I'll tell you one thing, this soup is NOT going to happen, next year...I'm going to bed and I'm putting this kitchen to bed as well!" I swear to god, I could feel my whole face fill with scalding water. I could not make eye contact with anyone in the now uncomfortably silent room. Her off-the-wall, unwarranted vituperation was like a dagger in my heart as well as everyone else's, I'm sure. I mean who can turn something as innocuous as a bunch of siblings and their children, all working together to make a pot of soup from the holiday carcass, into a bad thing? Some of the best pictures I got from the day, were of my middle daughter, Bailey and her cousin, diligently working to pick the bones out of the broth. But this bitch had no problem snatching the fun right out from under all of us. I leaned my jittery body over, rested my elbows on the counter, cupped my face in my hands and stared hard through welling eyes. When I felt the first tear breach its levee, I went upstairs, collapsed onto the toilet and issued forth years of repressed resentment, frustration and utter heartbreak, in the form of an hysterical meltdown. I cried hard, for a solid 20 minutes and only came out of my tiny potty room fortress knowing I could no longer put off helping my sweet children get ready for bed. I shuffled past Jordan and announced to her that we would never set foot in that house again and continued my tirade about what a fucking bitch my step mom was. I was inconsolable. You know, I wasn't just crying about the goddamned soup. There is so much wrong with my fucked up family, and this was me, powerless to corral for one more minute, all of my accrued and squelched grief from years of familial indifference and inscrutability, specifically in regards to the mysterious death of my mother. We aren't a family, we only get together once a year, I suppose - to make sure there are at least a few current pictures in the photo album to fraudulently attempt to prove to the outside world and ourselves that we are a functioning family unit. My people don't give a shit about me, not one of my siblings or my dad or step mom have ever shown sincere concern for me especially in my recent tenuous financial situation. They have never offered to help me in any way. My friends at home, are my true and real family. They are poor people like myself, who still somehow manage to tenderly guide me through tough times, be it with a few groceries snuck into my fridge or a stealing my car to fill it with gas. You know, we all help each other, it's effortless and feels good to perpetuate our established, unspoken reciprocity. Whenever someone needs it, in whatever capacity we are able, we offer a hand to each other, the way loving families do entirely of their own volition. I realized that there would be no way for me to stay the night in that hell hole. So, after excoriating my step mom, relentlessly, for all of her years of iciness, her Napoleonic control over my brother, my sister me and my dad - her adopted "family", and her consistent nefariousness which made me miss my real mom, every single day, I packed up my kids, in their jammies and headed out the door of that house for the very last time, at 11:40 at night. Yeah, we cried until everyone but me fell asleep, but my kids had rallied for me, they stayed close by my side as I frantically gathered our shit and made my way to the car. They accepted my apology and insisted that I had done the right thing. I love those little buggers more than anything, don't know what my life would be, without them...After letting it all sink in, that I was officially done with my family, I realized that I was relieved. The proverbial weight had been lifted. I'd gotten everything off my chest and had now written those fuckers off completely and for good. I know this has nothing to do with what I usually talk about in this Big Ugly Blog, but I just needed to purge here on my trusty, ole Mac. I feel better...again.

Here is the latest breaking news, in a nutshell. A friend got me in touch with a local guy through one of those networking sites, he is a little older than me and not bad looking. After we officially became "friends" he invited me to go with him for a helicopter ride, which was supposed to happen tonight, but when I found out that I would suddenly be leaving town, I had to beg off. I did meet him in person, last Wed. night at a restaurant, nearby, where his sons' band was playing and he was bartending. He seemed good, but I'm not entirely convinced that he passes the litmus test.

I have been getting e-mails and texts from Sam, who's out in Nebraska with family for the holidays, and he did seem excited to alert me to the new development in his life, that he did indeed take a new job in the town 30 minutes from my house and will eventually be moving there. Who knows...maybe we will give this thing a whirl, after all.

After my dreadful Thanksgiving, I was desperate to have a little fun and Better Jimmy stepped up to the plate to aid me in my quest. Saturday afternoon, I drove to nearly where he lives and after having to reroute due to an atrocious car accident and doubling my drive time, I finally met up with him late Sat. afternoon. Before he even got out of his car, I knew he was good. And as he approached me from across the street, I had no doubt we were gonna gel. We went to dinner and I loved how he peppered his monologues with piles of cuss words, it cracked me up to see in my peripheral vision, people's heads whip around in response to his colorful choice of words. After dinner, having only spent an hour and a half together, I made it very clear that I had no intention of turning my car back around and heading home for another nearly 2 hour drive. Better Jimmy was totally cool with that. I followed him over snaking roads and across like a million train tracks way out into the Pennsylvania countryside right up to his quaint, little house. We got right into the hot tub and for the first time in ages, I felt like I had finally thawed out. I liked how he asked at one point if I was "cool with all of this" and I said, definitely. We both knew we were gonna have some fun and that it would most likely be nothing more than a good time, that night. He is a guy I could fall for, no doubt, but I am not a fool. I understand that he has his life there, 2 hours away from where I will be living my life far into the future. We fooled around and talked til 3:30 in the morning, never ran out of things to say, including the fact that either one of us could meet our perfect partner in 3 weeks and wouldn't that be super duper, but if not, it certainly would be fun to get together anytime we can finagle it. I found him absolutely adorable, just really so cute. He embodies pretty much everything I'm looking for in a man; great looking, sporty, sexy, nice cock, funny, crass, carries a gun, does his own laundry, not clingy but still kind, owns his own business and works hard but appreciates his playtime on the weekends. And he's realistic and honest. The next day - miserable, cold and rainy, he led me back to a place from where I knew I would be able to find my way home. We sat in the Hardee's while I downed a coffee and continued our effortlessly flowing dialog. He sent me off with a big hug and a wet kiss in the icy rain and has been surprisingly good about staying in touch with me a few times each day, ever since we said, "G'bye". Sometimes just to text me some goofy joke, or to IM me before bed or even to catch up on the phone. You know what? He's good, just like I thought when I first saw him sitting in his parked car across the road form me.

I kept waiting to hear from young Christopher, the hot D.C. political consultant, who was so hot and heavy, right from the get-go. I accepted a friend's invite to go to a big Ball on Friday night and I said yes, even though Christopher and I had toyed with the idea of getting together that night. I was actually kinda looking forward to turning him down, since I was now going to be occupied, the ole "You Snooze, You Lose" policy was in effect. But I didn't hear from him...And then I was prepared to have to decline again for Sat. night, certain that by then he'd HAVE to see me...Of course I would've had to say "No" for a Sat. night date as well, since I'd made plans with cute Better Jimmy. But I still didn't hear a peep from Christopher. There was absolutely no reason for me to call him, since I couldn't even find a slot for him, over that crazy weekend. I went to the place on the website where we met, where one can view the activity of men who have put you on their "Favorite's" list and guess what? He wasn't on there anymore! He had taken me off of his "Favorite's" list, the bastard! I was like, "Damn, what the hell did I do?" Oh well, no sense in getting all worked up about it, I 'spose...I've got enough on my plate these days anyway. Well, sorta...

Now the only other interesting thing I have to report is this strange situation I've got going on with my blog. I now have a way of knowing how many people view the blog, and even though I cannot tell exactly WHO is reading, I can sometimes figure out in what city these readers live, only sometimes. Mostly it's indecipherable, cryptic codes and stuff. But there is one set of numbers that has begun to appear multiple times each day, indicating that this particular individual is stopping by The Big Ugly Blog an inordinate amount of times, especially considering the infrequency with which I post new blog entries. It's like, haven't you read that one already, like 55 times? And best I can figure, said individual is a guy I met, not so long ago, and he is the only guy I've met who lives in the city referenced in the numerical code attached to his "views". The guy is Copa Cabana, remember, the one who didn't buy my $1.89 cup of coffee? Now don't you think that's a bit bizarre? I almost feel stalked, in a weird kind of way. I know I should be happy that he's reading and all, but every time I go to see who's been looking, I am almost disappointed to find out that it's just him again, instead of a new reader or one of my less fanatical supporters.

K, that's it. I've got shit to do to get ready for my thingy. I guess there won't be too much online dating about which to report until at the very earliest, next week. I hope I can stand to be separated from my trusty, ole Mac and my cell phone which will be rendered virtually useless for the endurance of my sabbatical...this is gonna be D I F F I C U L T!