Wow. If I thought Monday was astronomical, I had NO idea what I'd be in for today. Let me reiterate: wow.

I had a huge -- something -- with the boyfriend last night. And on a sentimental note, I'm guessing that he's no longer my boyfriend in the same sense that I'm probably no longer his girlfriend. And I'm okay with that. I was fine alone before him and I'll be fine alone again. It just blows my mind that at age 35, there are still things that people in a relationship don't talk about until it's obviously too late. Blows my fucking mind. What a challenge life becomes when you have to fend not only for yourself and your spawn, but you also have to become a mind reader in order to decipher the status of your relationship, lest you (gasp) actually have to ask what the fuck is going on when it's Wednesday and you haven't seen your supposed boyfriend since last Thursday. After two months of dating, and that's in "quotes," by the way, am I really so out in left field by feeling that it's acceptable for me to ask for some clarity? Wow. What a douchebag I've become.

Fuck it. On a much better note, at least I'll have time to write. I stayed up til 2am finishing my second short story last night and it's just about bulletproof. Still working on some POV issues in the first section but I'll get it. It is, after all, due tomorrow. :-)

Out for now, not forever.
~Cherstin

I very very very much just freaked myself out by Googling "cherstin blog" and checking out some of the links that came up.

I was skeeved. Don't do that on acid. Maybe it's no big deal if you have a common name and you're used to other people having your common name but for a Cherstin, it's absolutely bizarre to see things written about you or by you ... AND IT'S NOT YOU.

Whew. On that note, it might be time for a Benedryl. Faces of strangers with my name are haunting the inside of my eyelids.

Spank the Monkey.

Dammit. For a Monday, today seemed quite astronomical. My personal life is hiccupping (and I'm not even sure if it's legal to make that into a verb. Should I not have doubled the P?) and I'm feeling a little bla. I think I need to throw on something hard and get it over with. Something that will decimate my eardrums and make me want to shoot milk out my eyes. (For the record, I just had an internal gag. Lit'rally. I sometimes wonder if I am the grossest person I know. Anddd I just strengthened the hypothesis. Again.)

Every time I sit Indian style on this bar stool, I have a fleeting glimpse of the stool breaking with me being unable to put my feet down and something metal inserting itself into some dangerous and unexplored orifice. Thank God it's only a fleeting glimpse or I'd need perma-xanax as much as I end up sitting Indian style on this stool. When school was starting, I made myself this terrific little niche in the corner of the living room. I thought I'd use it faithfully. It has two chairs that I could sit Indian style on and never worry about a metal pole ending up inside my rectum ... yet I sit here. At the bar. On the stool. Dammit. Did I say that for a Monday, it's been an astronomical day?

I can't quite get it together. Things are not looking great. I've been antisocial, keeping everyone an arm's length away for a few days now. I'm hoping to see boyfriend tomorrow, sex the shit out of him, and be on my happy way. Til then, I'll be finishing off "Carmilla." (Ahhh, if only I meant that lit'rally. That'd teach him to spend 96 hours at a time on the Xbox.) ;-)

Later, you with the evil grin.

Silly stupid ladies,

Please help me here because there's something I have a hard time understanding. Why is it that occasionally, in this day and age, I still come across women who play the part of the helpless dame? It must be something in the water. Maybe a part of it is my lesbian past. I'm not sure. All I know is that I just fixed my dishwasher after fixing my riding lawnmower after using my self-propelled lawnmower to mow the swale in front of the house since it's finally almost dry. I know women who "need help" hanging curtains. What the fuck is this world coming to? A relative of mine needed help TAKING WALLPAPER OFF HER WALLS. And not just "hey, I need an extra hand" kind of help. She asked for the kind of help as in "I can't do this, I have no idea what I'm doing, can someone help me" kind of help.

Mr. Math Teacher would be so proud. Check out this logic problem I'm about to give you:
If you can read, you can install a dishwasher. My five-year-old son can read. THEREFORE, my five-year-old son can install a dishwasher.
Let P = Someone can read.
Let Q = Someone can install a dishwasher.

P->Q
P
------
... Q

If P and Q are true:
[(P->Q)^P]->Q
[T^T]->T
T->T
T
THIS IS A VALID ARGUMENT.

I just refuse to believe that there are still women out there that don't mow their grass, fix their appliances, clean their pools, wash their dogs ... not because they don't have time but because they either LIKE to portray the helpless female or they truly believe they can't do it. I'm not even sure which one is more sad or pathetic.

I'm off my soapbox now. Off to write poetry. Thanks for listening.

New Rules.

This may not embarrass anyone else and God Bless You if you've got cajones big enough for that. I mean to tell you, however, that my five-year-old has been embarrassing the shit out of me lately. I would've thought we were done with all this nonsense. Don't get me wrong ... I still love the little guy and I'm definitely expecting far less than perfection. But should I really be having to write on the white board little reminders, like "No climbing on furniture" and "Dirty clothes go in the washing machine"??? We've had five years of practice. Sometimes I think we should be past this point by now.

The deal breaker came yesterday at his kindergarten Open House. He's been psyched for days about this damn thing, which is cool. I'm glad he's taking pride in his school and his class. I'm all for that. I am NOT all for, however, this new hugging thing he has going on where he runs up to me, full steam ahead, and jumps up for a hug, thinking that whatever else I may have going on, I should immediately be able to stop and catch a 45 pound object being slung thru the air in my general direction. I have told him time and time again that if he chooses to give a great big hug, he needs to be sure that the receiver knows he's on his way. This is only fair, correct? And it sort of seems to be common sense. Apparently not, though, seeing as he did this to my mom in his classroom last night at Open House and knocked her on the floor. Can you imagine? Yes, I probably had the worst kid there. And yes, I agree with my boyfriend that his kindergarten teacher DID look like she was on Xanax. All I can say, then, is bless her heart and thank God for prescription medicines. I absolutely could not spend five minutes in a class with kindergartners. I'd be smoking again. Inside the school. Twice.

Is this normal, to feel this way about your darling child? To actually be embarrassed by them? I mean this is still kindergarten for crying out loud. I'm thinking that this behavior is going to grow exponentially with each passing year and if that's the case, when he's seven I'll be hiding out in the backyard somewhere, praying no one will ever find me. I guess it is an eye-opening feeling, though. I'm guessing that this is the point in life where a lot of parents fail and just give up and allow their children to NOT have the discipline and correction that they need. That makes me sad. TANGENT ALERT: I lived in Orlando after high school and I remember being out in front of our apartment complex one night, shooting the shit with another couple of which the guy happened to be working on his car. They had a little boy who was probably 3 years old. The kid kept running laps around the car, then running up and biting me. Hard. And the parents weren't doing anything! I kept thinking, "WTF is wrong with this picture??" At that time, I wasn't a parent ... I didn't understand the apathy that goes along with essentially giving up on your child, letting THEM win at 3 years old. Are you kidding? You've been on this Earth for 20-something years and you can't outwit a three-year-old? What is really wrong with people?

I do get it, though. And my child will NEVER be "one of those kids." His teacher told me he's one of the accelerated readers in class. That's terrific. I'm very very very proud of him because he does love to read and write (and draw and color). I just wish I could get him to be more apt to do the right thing in certain situations. I'm not asking for a robot ... I just don't want to be the parent of "that kid" anymore. We're implementing a new program today though. I'm calling it "From Now On, Every Second After School Will Be Spent Playing Outside." Yes. It's true. It doesn't cost a dime to implement and we will have no more afternoons of tv or video games. From now on, the goal will be to get as dirty as possible with prizes being awarded to whomever gets the dirtiest over the course of the afternoon. I want to see digging! I want to see running! Climbing! You name it. Just no more sitting inside coloring. I treat my dog like that: I know from watching Dog Whisperer that my dog, Sage, a border collie/Australian shepherd mix, needs to run all her energy out daily or she's going to be prone to mischief. It's her nature. She was given lots of energy to do the herding that her breed is known for. That's fine. Makes perfect sense. Now I'm going to apply that to my 5-year-old and see where that gets us. I think we will be learning lots of new things: skateboarding being one of the first. There's a huge skate park here in town and he's already said he'd like to learn. I think it's great. Maybe I should learn, too. :-)

I'm out, all. That's my daily bitch. Now I'm off to study for a math test. Should be terrif. Have a great weekend and I'll keep you posted (or KYP as Dave Arnold and I say) on the outdoor fun. Later!

Ehh.

I hate hate hate when I say something in my head to myself and I think of something horrible, like a plague of lice, and I think to myself "I will suffer a plague of lice if I'm not in bed tonight before 10pm." And then the other part of me thinks something witty in return, like "Duh, not even worth betting about. It's 9:12pm. OF COURSE you'll be in bed by 10pm." And it's now 10:09pm. Awake me is going to kick other me's ass.

I couldn't go to sleep without blogging. It must be some type of thing. I get sort of depressed about this season's "Survivor." I'm amazed at the stupidity of others and I'm thinking they might need to change the name of the show to "Russell." Lame. I did, however, get a very big laugh at his saying "I'm the boss" because it came off sounding like "I'm da bawss" and if you've seen the Lonely Island video for "Like a Boss," you're right there with me. ;-)

Now I just spent a few minutes signing up for a Hulu account and got carried away watching movie previews. That's it. I'm off to bed before some crazy plague-lice come carry me away. Goodnight!