Monday, July 25, 2005


I finally received my debit card, so come visit me at my typepad.

Sunday, July 24, 2005


I'm home, and tomorrow after work I'll post all about good ole G Fest, and also about how C. and I came home to see that my crazy neighbor (who was supposed to be fixing our windows) boarded up my back door. Until then......

Friday, July 22, 2005

Guinivere Fest

And I'm off. This weekend is the annual Guinivere Fest, aka paternal side family reunion. It should be stuffy and conservative. I shall return on Sunday, and will post Slimy, Part Two Monday. Until then, this is Aderyn G., signing off.

Wait, Grrl's baby is on the way! Yay!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Slimy, Part One

All right, here goes. This is a dig into my very hurtful and emotional past, so please forgive me if I get a little stupid while writing.

I met Slimy about 5 months after C and I broke up the first time. He lived in a "coach house" which was really a garage someone tried to make into a house. It passed, I suppose, but it was a little too small for Slimy, his mom (Mrs. Slimy) and his brother (Lil' Slime). Anyway, I had just been released from being grounded (as I often was) and an old friend, B, came to pick me up. I have known B since I was in kindergarten and we have the same birthday. He has always liked me, but for some reason, I never quite felt the same way. I always saw him as a best friend, not a boyfriend. So, B came and picked me up, and told me he wanted to introduce me to his friend, Slimy. I sort of have to smile (a bitter, bitter smile) at this. Poor B had no idea what he was getting himself into. When I met Slimy, he was in 7th grade and 13 years old. I was a freshman and 15. When I saw him, I felt an instant connection, an instant attraction. He looked...well, like me. He was around 5'3", with short brown hair, pale skin, and green eyes. He played guitar (a prerequisite of sorts to being my boyfriend), he had slightly crooked teeth. I fell for him right away. I ended up staying at his house and let him feel under my shirt, and B left in a huff.

Slimy and I acted like a couple when we weren't. We would hold hands and snuggle, but there was no kissing. I look back and say to myself, Aderyn. He was 13, no wonder he didn't kiss you, he was probably terrified. My brother, P, is 13 and I can't even imagine him kissing a girl. Blech. Anyway, Slimy and I started dating on 11 April 2000. He wouldn't kiss me. Would. Not. Kiss. Me. It drove me mad. Finally, about 2 weeks into the relationship, I pushed him against a wall and made him kiss me. This embarassed him, so he took me further into my house so our friends couldn't see us, and he kissed me. The kiss was electric. I don't care how old he was, or how completely wrong the whole relationship turned out being, he was the first person I kissed that way. After that, we were pretty much inseparable. He went to middle school a block away from my house, and I saw him everyday.

After about a month, I broke up with him. He had had eyes on a girl named Crystal from Indiana before we'd met, and I heard interesting talk about him. He told another mutual friend that it was like standing in the middle of a road, with me on one side and Crystal on the other. He said he didn't know which one to choose. Well, I was going to help him out by choosing for him. The breakup didn't last the night.

And here is Slimy in the flesh (sort of):

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Sigh. I forgot he used to look so innocent.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

C and Me

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A little blurry, I know, but I labeled them for you and everything.

C and I have known each other for about 6 years. We were in the same "class" in daycare when we were 5, so I'm sure we played a bit together, but we don't remember it. Maybe one of these days I'll dig out that old picture of us with the rest of the "class". Anyway, when I was in 8th grade, my best friend asked me who she should start dating. We'll call her Krissi, because that was her name, and I really don't care if I ever talk to her again. Krissi had this on-again, off-again "relationship" with a boy named Devon (who I also don't care too much about), and I assume she was looking for a change. I knew Devon a little, but I didn't know C at all. I'd seen him a few times when Krissi and I went to pick up Devon from school (he went to the Catholic school in town), but otherwise, there was no contact. C says he was attracted to me from the moment he first saw me in 6th grade, but he should be ignored. He can't even remember what day it is, let alone what happened when we were 12. Anyway, one day Krissi asked me who she should go out with next, Devon or C.* I said, "Go with the one you're not used to" because I couldn't really care less at the time. So, she started dating C. I should add that at the time, I also had a boyfriend.

Things progressed, blah, blah, blah. Krissi started to "share" C with me, as had been our way with previous boyfriends (mine, since none of hers wanted anything to do with me). On July 8, 1999, C and I made out. It was electric, like nothing I'd ever experienced (yes, I was only 14, give me a break, please). To make a long story short, Krissi and I shared C, I broke up with my boyfriend, and Krissi moved away. Now, when you're 20, 30 minutes is a pretty short drive, but when you're's a death knell for relationships. Krissi tried to keep it up anyway, but after a mere 3 weeks in her new town, I stole C. That's right, I stole him. I told him Krissi cheated on him (she did! But I was probably a bit too enthusiastic about it) and he broke up with her on the phone. She hated me for a very long time after that.

C and I were only together for 3 months that first time around. He was dealing with Bipolar disorder, and I was dealing with being a 15 year old girl with very low self-esteem and being a pushover. Our group of "friends" could get me to do anything. Plus, I cheated on him with Stupid Pothead. C and I had an ugly, ugly breakup, even in teenager terms. It took us at least 2 years to be able to speak to each other like civilized humans again. When we were juniors, we confessed we were still in love with each other. When we were seniors, we sent little love notes to each other. Just one, mind you, just one, because I was dating Abusive Italian at the time. But I still have it.

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Under this one it says "It brings me solace to have made my peace with you. You mean the world to me. My angel, my all, my other half, my immortal beloved."

In August 2003, I went away to college in the sticks. I came home almost every weekend to escape the maniacal drug-induced escapades of my roommate. One weekend, I came home, and the only person who knew was C. And my parents, but they don't count. My friends didn't know, and neither did my boyfriend (Obsessed). C came over after work. We talked. It was awkward, and a bit surreal, but he left late, and I felt good about the situation. The next day I got ready and waited all freaking day for C to call me to go out. He sent me an instant message at 8:00 at night, and we decided to go see School of Rock with two of the guys from his band, his best friend and some other guy (who I thought was hot at the time).** Near the end, I got C to hold my hand. When we got back to my house, I showed him my thong (because I was nervous and thought it would break the ice), and he kissed me. It was amazing. When he left, I stood in my living room and just shook for about 20 minutes. We had a very rocky first 6 months, but things began looking up after I stopped drinking all the time. Right.

*Krissi had about 18 boyfriends in middle school, all of them were her "soulmate." This annoyed me to no end.

**These boys are no longer speaking to us, as a result of, well, me. I will write about it eventually.

I wrote this yesterday, but was too lazy to take the pictures. And today I went overboard. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a shot of my Plantar warts.
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Not quite as bad as this.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Here comes the bride...

I'm a very odd girl. My last 4 boyfriends (spanning in time from when I was a freshman in high school to when I was a freshman in college) have wanted to marry me. An ex-friend of mine (who turned out to like girls much too young for him) used to get himself into a spiny jealous twist about it. You see, he had trouble holding onto a girl, and at the time, we were baffled. Looking back, I see that it was because he was 20 years old and dated 15 year olds. It probably didn't help that he acted as though he was 7. Hindsight is 20/20 as they say. Anyway, marriage. Here's the part where I turn into a hypocrite about above serial satutory rapist ex-friend. When I was 15, I began dating a 13-year-old. Yeah, yeah, please keep the heckling inside your head. (But it isn't as bad as dating girls 5 years younger while you're of legal age! Right? Hello?) I'm not sure he actually wanted to get married, especially considering he had never kissed anyone before I came along, but I sure thought I wanted to marry him. We'll call him Slimy, because I've had some bad experiences with him recently. Slimy's mother was a stripper. Okay, an exotic dancer. I loved Mrs. Slimy. She dressed me up in leather clothing and black makeup once, and even let me wear her thigh high leather stiletto stripper boots. Excuse me, exotic dancer boots. At 15. Anyway, Slimy and I talked about getting married, and blah blah blah, and then he moved away and we all lived happily ever after. Oh, wait. That's a post for another day. Many posts.

Next came Stupid Pothead. I was with SP for almost 2 years. This had never happened before. Granted, I cheated on him any number of times, but we still planned on marriage. Thank God I got myself out of that. My relationship with SP was pretty much role play. I was the stuffy grandmother, and he was the rebellious grandson. We never had sex (well, maybe a few times), I always told him what to do (and he did it), and he never worked. Ever. When I began paying for his pot, I moved on.

Enter Abusive Italian. Let's just skip him over, because, like Slimy, I could write a book on AI. He wanted to get married too.

Last Pre-C boyfriend...we'll call him Obsessed. He told me he loved me after 5 days. And I fell right into it and told him I loved him too, and 6 weeks later I was pregnant. This is the boyfriend I came closest to marrying. I look back and shudder. He still tells me he loves me, 2 years later.

Now C. C and I have been having a pretty rough month (yet more post fodder). This is mostly my fault, but that's beside the point right now. C wants to marry me. Still. After everything I've done. Sometimes I wonder about his head. No matter, because I want to marry him too. We're young (he just turned 20, I'll be 21 in 2 months), but we have an interesting story.

Please commence beating with sticks so there's no more digression.

MARRIAGE. Last winter, I got really into wedding websites. Scary websites with silver bells, and frilly lace, and shrieking women discussing the best use for strawberry smelling stickers. I was obsessed. I was constantly looking at wedding attire, locations, food, gifts, etcetera. I even went so far as to pick a place, a location, a theme, colors, and centerpieces. C was understandably a little freaked out. We are still attending junior college, for G-d's sake, and we work for my father for not exactly living wage. And here I was, planning our future, a wedding in fall, in 2006 (!!!!!), 250 guests (?!?!?!?!), and all sorts of crazy ideas. Never once did I let the words "apartment" or "tuiton at university" enter my head. Oh, no! I thought only of little pumpkin candles, a buffet dinner, cousins as bridemaids, and orange shoes! (what was I thinking?) C and I got into many an argument because he thought I was obsessed and I thought he was underinvolved.

To make a long and boring story short, my computer's hard drive had to be rebooted, thereby losing all of my wedding bookmarks, and with those, my interest in all things wedding. That doesn't mean I don't want to marry C. I do. And he still wants to marry me. I think. But now we're talking about waiting until after college, and maybe doing it in jeans at the courthouse. Which sounds good to me. Today. I may change my mind tomorrow.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Harry Potter

Was given 6th book from evil, blood sucking grandma at 6 am before driving her to airport. Now she is only evil, not blood sucking. Did not expect said grandma to buy the book for me, so this was a pleasant surprise, after being angry about getting up at 6 on a Saturday. Got home around 7:30, tried to sleep. Gave up around 8, began reading. At 4:37 p.m. the book is finished. I cried for the final two chapters, cursed a few names, and am now immensely hungry.