OakMonster’s Den

I don’t recall exactly the details of the conversation but I caught the new coworker looking at me funny.

“It’s okay. I’m weird, I know,” I told her.

“Oh, no, no.  You’re not weird,” she sputtered.

“Oh, no.  It’s okay. I’m okay with weird.  I embrace the weird.  You’re not insulting me.”

“No.  I didn’t mean you’re weird.  You’re not weird.”  The girl was still trying.
“Sweetie. It’s okay. I would be offended if you think I’m normal,” I ensured her.  “Because normal is fucking boring.”

I think the cowroker was a little startled at the F bomb, but she’ll get over it.  That’ll teach her to stop patronizing me again when it comes to embracing my quirks.

A while ago I wrote a mini manifesto on coming out of the geek closet.  Since then, I haven’t made an excuse for being a blogger/Tweeter/gamer.  But I found myself having to defend my other choices that Normal People call “weird”.

Like dressing and talking like a pirate.  Like doing Thrill the World.  Like loving chicharone (fried pork skin).  Like knowing there is such a thing as bacon of the month club.

Blogger friend Pond has raised the question on weird recently as well.  I told her I was drafting up a manisfesto on the war on Normal.

I started writing it, and it’s pretty much the same as the Geek’s Declaration of Independence I just wrote.  Substitute geeky for weird and there, you have it.

I must admit it’s a bit sad that I’ve been out of high school 13 years and I just now realized that John Mayer was half right, there is no such thing as the real world.

The “Real World” is actually High School 2.0.

And I’m done being in high school.

Again I will say, fuck Normal.

*Warning: Gross Girly Girl Content*  Out of respect for my manly man readers, ladies, please highlight the following content to continue.  We’re discussing navigation of the crimson waves here, fellas.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

So, ladies. Ready to give me some girly advice?

I’ve just switched up my Pills for the past two months.  The side effects so far have been minor weight gain and, to my husband’s rejoice, a little bit of boobage.  Also to Brandon’s rejoice, the mood swing is gone.However, the cramps have gotten worse.

It used to be a mild pain, enough to let you know it’s there and be irritable about it, even before the Pills.  An Aleve would have taken care of it.  It’ll go on the day before and be done within 36 hours.

But now, it’s a hard hitting come-and-go squeezes that, while not completely dehabilitating like some of my friends have, it was a lot more than I was used to.  If contractions are 10 times worse than the pulses I’ve been getting, I’m seriously happy I’m not planning on having kids.  Last month, the pain came and went within 12 hours.  So far, it’s been 24 and hasn’t gotten all that much better.

Oh, and I never crave chocolate like this before.  I held out the best that I can before giving in yesterday and had me some chocolate ice cream.

Brandon said that he is willing to do anything to help me with the pain and to get the chocolate as long as the mood swing stays away.  As much of an inconvenience and, well, how fucking hurts it is, I actually have to agree.  The mood swing afflicts both of us while the cramps only affects me.  It’s better for everyone involved.

So, this morning I’m armed with 2 Aleves, a ThermaCare heating my belly, and grande soy green tea latte.  I know it’s a little late to throw in the soy PMS therapy, but it feels/tastes good.  It’s down to the nagging bit, but that makes me question what it would have been without the 2 Aleves.

Is it really going to be worth it, trading this for a mood swing? I really don’t want to lose the mood-swing free…nor the boobs. LOL.

What’s your strategies to deal with your cramps?

I found this Hanna Montana “microphone shaped” candies at my local CVS.

I really had to read the packaging to confirm that what I saw was a “microphone”.

Apparently, I’m not the only person noticing this.  Here’s one.  And here’s another.

…figuratively and literally.

It’s been a crazy week at work that ended with Talk Like A Pirate and bridal shower Friday in the office.  I threw some mean party, y’all!

Pirate by day and zombie by night, later on on Friday night, I trekked down to Irvine to practice with Thrill the World OC at Atomic Ballroom.  They have a big group going.  LA Team: We have to catch up!

My right shoulder-neck muscles hated me.  So did my thighs.  (Lots of squats and deep knee bends in this dance!)

Saturday, off to Brenda and Jon’s reception at Astor Classics.  Awesome collection of everything from antique phones, model trains, to classic cars. It was a low key, super casual event.  Pretty much it’s a big family gathering with food and wine not cooked by the bride and beer not brewed by the groom.  No dancing. No pomp.  It was fun just sitting around and yapping with our friends.

Sunday, Brandon and I vegged in a grand style.  The usual hefty breakfast and the rest of the day foraging for snacks in the fridge and the pantry to call a meal.  Hehe.

Monday, we worked.  I started with a few sneezes around the office.  The inner ears didn’t start itching until I got back from lyrical jazz with Sizzle.  Since Debi wasn’t there, it was a one-on-one class.  Much awesomeness! We did Martha Graham style choreography to Lion King theater show soundtrack.  Lots of twisting and jumping.

Both sides of my neck and shoulders now hate me too.

But this morning, I could barely opened my eyes.  My nose started to stuff up around 3 a.m.  I didn’t get much sleep.  And my entire body ache in a way that I can’t really tell it was the Martha Graham’ing or something else.  I decided to stay home.

Here I am, giving you guys a catch up post as I’m slowly waking up from the Benedryl long nap and still fighting the haze.  It seems to be a horrible allergy attack than a cold.  I’m so drowsy right now so I can’t really tell…

Excuse me.  I think the couch is still calling.

Ahoy me hearties! Me colors be raised this dawn!

Updated: Captain Bubbles and the trusty Parrot Pat!

Official Talk Like A Pirate instruction from the creator of the holiday, Capt’n Slappy and Ol’ Chumbucket.

A favorite and very educational instruction video.

Talk Like a Pirate Day is tomorrow, y’all.

And I’m throwing a bridal shower in the office instead of the pirate party.  (Hey, the bride happened to pick that date…and she couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) change the date!)

Obviously,  Captain Bubbles, the Jolly Pirate of the South China Sea, will be presiding the bridal tea luncheon.

Oy, lassie! Yer wanna another cuppa?

Heeeheee.

*I was supposed to post a warning a la spoiler alert any future Thai political comments here.  But this “alert” is NOT that.  As a matter of fact, it’s the opposite.  I will NOT be discussing politics.  However, I will be discussing what politics is affecting my personal life.  So, my dearest Commenter “Ku”, you may so continue.*

The Irish Cousin Robert commented that he was no longer the angriest commenter on my blog with my recent entry.

Thai people have become just that these days.

Angry.  Frustrated.  Confused.  Fed up.  Overwhelmed.  Despaired.  Saddened.  All of the above.

Even the littlest thing could send passionate folks into a rampage.  One comment could cause a mayhem.

My motherland is thoroughly divided that friends are made enemies and family members stop talking to each other over politics.

“Ku” the Commenter and I had our heated moment of exchange off the blog over our stances.  Well, first of all, I personally know “Ku”.  So, the first few exchanges were emotional.  It was firmly requested that politics should not be discussed.  But you really can’t ignore the elephant in the room.

And so the exchange continued and, amazingly, we found out that we were not standing on the polar opposite after all.  We agreed on every fundamental thing that leads up to a certain point.  Our intentions are the same.  Our ideals are the same.  What we want for our country is the same.  But we diverge on the HOW part.  And it’s not all that difference on how our country would get where we would want it to be either.

A very fine line of how our views differ.

Out of this dialogue, I realized a few things.

A civil discussion REALLY can bring parties to a solution.  Gosh knows that between two U.S. educated Thais, one a business owner and a parent in Thailand and the other a non-profit employee and childless by choice in California, we might just come up with a solution to solve our country’s problem!  I mean, both of us started off almost at each other’s throat, and now we might just have an answer.  How cool is that?!

And then it hit me.

For the first time since I’ve known “Ku”, a SERIOUS political discussion slowly grew out of what started out almost like an adolescent spat.

Holy fuck.

We *are* adults now.

Friday, the Downtown goats.

Saturday, Brandon returned and the Trojans kicked the Buckeyes’ butt up and down the field 35-3.

Sunday, catching up on TV and dinner with James, Aurora, Dresden and Lee.

Good weekend. 

Courtesy of Amy, the Gridiron Goddess.

For those who didn’t know (like I did when I first watch this), Ohio State’s mascot, the Buckeye, is a nut of the Ohio buckeye tree, which according to Wikipedia, also called “fetid buckeye” because it stinks–”the disagreeable odor generated from the flowers, crushed leaves, broken twigs, or bruised bark.”

ETA: Beautiful, beautiful entry from Chris Cactus, father of the cutest little girl who just started preschool this week, and a teething baby boy.  I had to share.

The world changed seven years ago. I don’t think that’s an overstatement. The world changed.

When they’re old enough I’ll tell my kids my story of 911. I’ll tell them about the blue sky. I’m sure I’m romanticizing it but I don’t think I’ve seen a sky that blue since that day. I’ll tell them about the drive home, the mad dash away from Washington DC, a city scarred by the attacks as well. I’ll tell them about the plume of smoke rising from the Pentagon in my rearview mirror. I’ll tell them about arriving home, finding Beth glued to CNN, and realizing that, despite all the radio coverage I’d heard on the way home, I never imagined there would be actual video of the towers being hit and coming down. I’ll tell them about the brave people on United flight 93 who sacrificed themselves to save others and found their final resting place in a Pennsylvania field. I’ll tell them about the intense quiet as the planes across the country were grounded. I’ll tell them about the heroism of police, firefighters and every day people that made me truly believe in the goodness of mankind. I’ll tell them about the flags that flew everywhere, the pride that swelled, and the kindness that overflowed.

I will tell my children my story of 911 knowing that each one of us have our own stories. That each one of us was somehow impacted. That each of our worlds was either dramatically or subtly changed. And I will tell my children my story of 911 so that it will never be forgotten. Because 911 - the horror, the humanity, the victims, the images, the kindness, the pride - is something that needs to be remembered.