Tag Archives: drama

Wahhhhh! What’s wrong with me?!

Hey girls and happy fridizzle,

So, as you know, I’ve recently switched forms of birth control. I went from an IUD (which I loved and adored and never thought about) to The Pill. I haven’t really noticed a difference (now that I’m used to taking the blasted thing every day), but ever since I started taking The Pill, the WORLD HAS TURNED AGAINST ME. Yes, that’s right. The world. Everyone hates me. Algebra is constantly trying to hurt my feelings. I have no friends. I’m fat. My life sucks.

Wait a second… could this weepy, sensitive subhuman I’ve turned into be because of a new substance I’m putting into my body? I’ve been like this for approximately 8 weeks. I’ve been taking The Pill approximately 8 weeks. Coincidence? I think not. But until my gyno and I can arrange a time to meet up, I’m stuck with this blasted thing.

At least I’m aware of it now so I can try and control psycho self.

In case you were wondering, here’s a list of things that I’ve cried over since this blasted thing has taken over my soul:
-Spilled milk (swear to God)
-Sylvan commercials
-My friends being nice to me
-A Fiona Apple song (Paper Bag – so awesome, but tears, really?!)
-Algebra asking why I was being sensitive
-Being called a racist (this one is warranted, right?)
-One of my students being suspended (I won’t get to see him again this year :-()
-A Maya Angelou Poem
-My internet not working
-Rewriting my resume
-A polynesian dance assembly

Seriously? I need an appointment with my gyno or a therapist stat. In other devastating news (actually this time), my childhood dog might have some sort of crazy heart problem (at least it’s not cancer like we thought). Maybe I can cover all my silly tears with actual tears on this one (even if I am crying because I can’t find a matching shoe).

WAHHHHHHHHH,
Bridget

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Tenaciously caring

Hey Gals,

On this stormy, blustery day I can’t help but think about something so close yet so far away; warm, fabulous, care-free Summer.

So far I have a cruise planned, three trips home, 4th of July debauchery and hopefully a Europe trip (I might be delusional about the Europe thing, but I’m using ‘The Secret’ tactic where you say it’s true and then it becomes true like science). Therefore, I’m going to Europe in August.

I’m also hoping my job gets “absorbed” (that’s what my company is calling it now since “severed” sounded too severe.) by June so I can hang poolside all month.

After the Europe trip I have no plans, no agenda, no idea. And I feel pretty great about that.

My mom wants me to get knocked up and make Preston deal with my lack of resources, but I’m pretty sure I would rather die first. Nothing against Preston, it’s more the trick pregnancy for financial gain thing I have a problem with. But hey, it’s a different generation, right? In the 80’s that was acceptable and how I’m pretty sure my brother and I came to be.

Bailey, I know you are cringing at the irrelevance of this e-mail, and for that I apologize. I just want to make sure you two are fully aware of my summer plans so you can plan accordingly. How am I funding said Summer? Also irrelevant (‘The Secret’). Moving on to more relevant things.

I’m dealing with the drama of my Dad’s relationship with his girlfriend of over 7 years, Suz, who has become crucial to the family dyanmic and it’s causing me more stress than I can deal with.

The fight is about how he and my mom have an inappropriate friendship (they totally do) and Suz has had enough. My parent’s have been married and divorced to each other twice and have never really severed their feelings for or dependency on each other. They live two minutes away and keep in touch pretty regularly. When I put myself is Suz’ shoes, I would have had enough, too.

I made the mistake of telling Dad all of these things and that my brother agrees. Now everybody is mad at me. They raised me to be this way, how could they be mad? I’m opinionated, meddling and needy and am pretty sure those qualities are a product of nurture, not nature. They should be mad at themselves for rasing me to be so tenaciously caring.

Plotting ways to fund my impossible summer travel and manipulate my family in to loving me again (ah yes, ‘The Secret’ yet again),
-Bianca

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How does one measure success? (Well, by success. Sorry, cousins.)

Oh Hey, Bianca and BAILEY!

Oh em eff gee! This is my first combined email. Let me just take a moment to welcome Bailey! Welcome, Bailey! I’m so glad you finally saw the light that Lord and Savior Al Gore has been talking about and have adopted your very own, brand spankin’ new, totally awesome and earth saving Prius! Woot to you!

Note: Girls, since this is now a thread, remember to hit reply ALL! (Unless you don’t mean to, let’s not make this messy.)

I’m back from the trip with Algebra to Denver! I love that city. We were able to see my favorite cousin, Algebra’s favorite cousin and my favorite Aussie. All was good. We even made it to the Air Force Academy to see the Utes (barely squeak in a) win! Woot! I’m home for the next 10 days so you better relish your email time before Algebra and I jet off to Chicago.

So last night my parents picked us up from the airport and my mother was in a tizzy. Her crazy older brother has hurt her feelings again. And there is nothing I hate worse than hurting mom’s feelings (even though it seems like I do it all too often), but that’s my job. I’m the spoiled, only child and she’s MY mom, if I snap at her because I’m having a bad week, she had it coming (fair enough) … she gave birth to me. But when someone else does it…  WATCH OUT! Things are going to get ugly!

Like most normal families, we are extremely competitive. This is normal right? (If not please pretend to make me feel better). We love each other a lot, but sometimes, I dare say, most of us like winning more. In the past few years winning in the cases of my aunts, uncles and parents means having the most successful child. Without fully delving in to my awesomeness, lets just say in a nutshell, I have my sh*t together. Which is something some of my other cousins, well, don’t (yet).

This kills my aunts and uncles and inspires competition of other means (like who can make who cry first at a family party). Not saying *most* of my cousins aren’t equally successful, some of them just missed the “get your life together ship” and have been stuck on a dock ever since. It’s really not that big of a deal. When we’re pushing 40 and they are still comfortably sitting on said dock, then we have an issue. But considering we’re all twenty-somethings, who cares?! (My aunts and uncles do, actually. Quite a bit.)  

In any event, being that I am an only child, I have no idea about the dynamics of a brother/sister relationship. I have no idea why my mother, the loudest human being on the face of planet, turns into this measly, meek, bowl of tears person over a silly issue. {Sigh.} And both of you ladies have older brothers, do you have any advice for me to
give to my sad mama?

Other things that I don’t know about being an only child:
(Note: I think I’m the most un-only child of the only children we know. But then again that might be an only child delusion.)
   – How to share (my friends, my time, my margarita, etc)
   – How anyone can possibly have a point of view that differs from my own. (Hello, Republicans? Wtf.)
   – How to fully express my feelings (although this might be more because I’m a Libra).
   – Why my parents would want to do anything besides bask in the glory that is their only daughter (cue halo and choir).

Welp! Off to go make more sun shine out of my ass,
Bridget

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