Making out, why Google chat is awesome and morning tweets

My new favorite conversation from my very dear friend (you may want to sit down... this one's a doosey):

Gretchen: oh! and my morning tweet (I thought you would appreciate): Ah, coffee. The warm hug everyone deserves in the morning. Except you, Brett Favre. You're still an asshole.

Kristy: LOL

Gretchen: since you're not on twitter I feel the need to share

Kristy: love it

absolutely

Gretchen: and this not drinking thing really makes me clever in the morning

weird

Kristy: haha, i wouldn't know!

Gretchen: I don't really recommend it. It was simply an observation.

Kristy: i love you!!!!!

Gretchen: haha I love you too!!!!!!!!

wanna make out?

lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala

Kristy: lalalalalalalalallala

Gretchen: oh my god. I love us

Kristy: ME TOO!

And that's how The Awesome does it.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do. So's Your Mom.

Dear Cyber-Universe,

Have you ever had to break up with someone you still love, someone you can't imagine living without, someone you've been with for a long time, because you know waaaay down deep inside that in the long run, it's better that you two go your separate ways? Because I just did that. Here I am... less than 6 months from 30, in the middle of the healthiest, most fun, hottest relationship of my life, and I decide that it's time to end it. And I still stand by my decision, but I have people all around me telling me what a good guy he is, how wonderful he treated me, how much he still loves me (these are MY friends... jerks), which I'm left to sit there, feeling like the jerk who broke a good heart.

It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but I know I HAD to do it. We're trying to remain friends. What are the odds that we'll both still want to be friends after a while?

Sometimes the only thing that gets me though is the thought that this HAS to be the worst of it. It simply must get better.

Any advice out there? Kind words? Hell, even call me an asshole... you wouldn't be the first.

No... Thank YOU, Charlie Sheen, you lion-blooded Warlock, you

Everyone always says to not fall down the Rabbit Hole. But, man, does Charlie Sheen make it look like a bucket of AWESOME. Below are a few choice quotes that I intend to meld into my daily ramblings as often as possible.

• "I’m not bi-polar, I’m bi-winning. I win here and I win there."
• "The last time I used? What do you mean? I used my toaster this morning."
• "I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen."
• "Most of the time — and this includes naps —I’m an F-18."
• "I closed my eyes and in a nanosecond I cured myself."

Remember when he really started losing it this time? (this time... man, it would be awesome to be a celebrity) When he beat up Brooke Mueller in Aspen? Well, I was home, visiting my mom in my tiny little town just outside Aspen when that happened. And just like when Michael Jackson died... no one there gave a shit about it.

True story:
Me to my older rancher friend with a fu manchu mustache: Did you hear?! Michael Jackson died!

Fu manchu: I should give a fuck? And that affects me, how?

(not related... but, because I didn't know how to spell "fu manchu," I had to look it up. And I'll be DAMNED if Wikipedia told me that he didn't have a fu manchu mustache at all... he had a horseshoe (or "biker") mustache. All this time, I've been living a lie.)

Horseshoe (or "Biker")

Fu Manchu

Also, Charlie Sheen needs his own network. Not JUST a show... a damn network. I think he should go use his Warlock powers to take Oprah and her ass-network out and turn it into the CSN, Charlie Sheen Network. You'd watch it, you know you would. It's like the real version of the Truman Show. Fuck. Yes. Win.

Also, in the battle of Lion Blood and Unicorn Blood, who would win?

Three years and forever counting...

Valentines Day marked three years since I've seen my brother. Tomorrow marks three years since he died. At 21 years old. Of a burst aneurysm in his heart. It's amazing how many feelings come flooding back this time of year. Anger. Desperation. Gut wrenching pain. Sadness. Depression. Bitterness. Helplessness. And the calming feeling that all these things I've been worried about lately, really don't matter at all.

I went to therapy after he died because I stopped taking care of myself and landed in the emergency room (of dehydration... nothing too serious, but it was enough to knock some sense into me). I only lasted two sessions in therapy, but one thing my theropist had me do was write Derek a letter. It wasn't for anyone else to read, I wasn't going to send it to anyone... she just told me to write. So I wrote. It's not a long letter. There's more humor than sadness. More hope than depression. I read it at least once a year. And I cry every time. But it's what gets me through some of those toughest times.

There are certain things I can't do without thinking about him... certain songs that still get me... certain people that are still hard to be around... but it's getting better.

I'm not going to share the letter I wrote to him, but one sentence from it reads:

Your boys are leaving for Iraq once again in a few short days. What I wouldn't give for you to be going with them. I know they would do anything for you to be there with them. Spending time with them, getting to know them and seeing the pain in their eyes proved what a wonderful friend, son, boyfriend and brother you were... and without even trying.

So here's to you , Derek. I know you're out there, with a shit-eating grin on your face, looking down and looking after all of us. I love you. Ooo-Rah!

Sunrise, Boozy Lobsters and Crazy People

This is what it looks like when you get up at dark-thirty to catch a flight. Kinda makes it worthwhile.

Between furlough days, the holidays, and travel days, I've been pretty busy. The pic above is from the window of my flight leaving Santa Barbara going to Los Angeles on my way to Tahoe for Christmas. (Jesus that makes me sound like a snob)

This lobster is hammied.

I've been drinking. A lot. And it's fun. This lobster was guarding my champagne at a local seafood restaurant during happy hour a few days before New Years.

It's no wonder I drink so much...

Then, it was time to go back to work, and deal with all the crazies. No wonder I drink. Sweet baby Jesus, please find me a new job.

It was a good Holiday Season. I went a little crazy, but that tends to happen. I'm lucky to still have friends and JD to support me and pull me out of my crazyhead when I need them too. More pics to come, and petty posts, I promise.