More Trade Offs

Why does my sanity have to come at the expense of my sex drive? Why is it that no medications exist that can help control Anxiety Disorder (heretofore referred as The Ack) and yet still leave me as the sex crazed minx that I am? Why, Huh?!! Huh? I am growing tired of trading one for the other.
With the meds, I laugh more. With the meds, I am better prepared to weather two whining toddlers, I am able to get up in the morning and DO THINGS. Stuff gets done, and if it doesn't I don't consider myself a worthless piece of shit and stay awake at night and worry about all the shit that The Ack firmly believes that should have been done. With the meds, I don't obsessively peel at my skin, or pick at my skin, or squeeze at my skin, or look at my skin, or think about my skin. I'm able to laugh off The Husband's incessant chauvinistic remarks and see them for the "I love you because I'm chasing you in the schoolyard" that they are.

Without the meds, I'm jumpy, irritable, and a raging horndog.
Not fun when you have a stressed out and tired husband all the time.
And with nearly 11 years under our belt, I'm discovering that no two people can be in The Mood at the same level at the same time. One may just want to receive special kisses while the other wants some good 'ol monkey sex. One may want a backrub and some sweet lovin, while the other is really interested in watching Dateline. In fact, the only time that Allen and I were ever in the same mood at the same time was when we were in the midst of divorce proceedings.
Funny, that.

Why Chuck Norris needs to put on a bunny suit and make out with me

So you all know how I care not for The Sister In Law.
Well, since The Husband and I signed the international/intergenerational/intercongigal peace treaty, things have been amazing. Even the fact that ALL of our relatives no longer speak to us is actually a thing I revel in. The drama level in our lives has hit near to Defcon 1.
But through the grapevine (translation: Mother in law) I have learned that The Husbands Great Uncle is having medical problems. A mass has been found in a lung - follow ups are required and the family is on this month's issue of Waiting On Test Results monthly.
So the tale goes that Mother in law called Sister in law to relay the news and this is the first thing that trickled from her holier-than-thou-my-organic-fucking-bean-sprout-ass-is-better-than-yours lips:

"Well, if he had just lived healthier..."

Ok, so this is a man who has - like many of the men in the family- supported his family by ranching, driving truck... anything to keep food on the table. This is also a man that drove at all hours of the night when The Husband, Mother in law and Sister in law broke down in the middle of nowhere on their way out to see the family.
This man is a sweet and gentle and loving and respectful as any I have met. That whole generation of their family is rife with good, honest, hardworking people.

So here is where I put it out there, with complete disregard for karma and all other cosmic forces.
I hope this bitch gets cancer or gets hit by a truck.

(missed me, didn't ya??!!)

What good does it do sit up on a high horse and wave your hemp oil ass at everyone in your life? Is being right really that important? Or maybe is being empathetic and at peace with the fact that each person has their own path more important?
Don't get me wrong, I do shudder and cringe in frustration when I see parents loading their carts with half a dozen cases of soda. My kids eat whole grains, I won't buy anything with hydrogenated or high fructose anything.
My kids know what soda tastes like and they prefer juice. Yes, they get the occasional lollipop.
But honestly, is my way of life any better if I make other people feel bad about theirs? She's an Evangelical Health Nazi.


And I know the title has nothing to do with anything. I really have yet to find a reason to title anything that. So there it is.

Miss me?

I know, I know. I had been an avid teller of the sortid tales of my daily life.
BUT I'M GODDAMNED BUSY.
15 credits this semester. A literature professor that thinks she's the only course anyone could have at any one time, a family psychology professor that seems to be obsessed with gayness, a math professor that is wonderfully hands-off, an anthropology class that I love and never have enough time for, and a history course I have barely touched.

Arg.

So, while I am on my myspace page, obsessively snuffing out mob bosses and killing do-gooder heroes, I have been posting there. May as well, those myspace applications are addictive. I've joined leagues, I've set up my own mafia.... What more could a control freak like myself want in life???!!