Life of a desperate housewife?

Stories and tidbits of a housewife in Maine

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Cigarettes and Caffeine...I'm an addict

So today I have managed to drink at least three pots of coffee and smoke two packs of cigarettes. Not the greatest thing in the world for a vocalist to be doing. Not the greatest thing for anybody to be doing for that matter. I need to quit. I have tried to quit, but I have failed and I keep puffing and perculating along. I guess you could say I have been practicing for the right moment.
Quitting smoking is hard. Quitting coffee is even harder. Quitting them both is like the worst nightmare ever imagined. Whenever I pour myself a cup of coffee, the lighter flashes, and the nicotine is slowly being inhaled down my throat washed down by the wonderful taste of Folgers in my cup. I am dreading the fact that I am going to have to give up both and kill those two birds with one stone, slowly pull my hair out in the process.
When I try to quit smoking, I am like Linda Blair in the Exorcist. I get irritated and testy and grouchy and I swear my head spins around in circles. All I can think about is that red pack of cigarettes with the 100's sitting inside of them crying out to me "Baby just light my fire!" It's like my whole thought process becomes wrapped around taking that puff as tightly as the paper is wrapped around the tobacco. When I don't have my coffee, I am like, well it's too horrible to even describe. Talk to my husband, I am sure he will be glad to describe it to you, it is one of his favorite horror stories.
I swear I don't even remember when I got addicted to these powerful and mind controlling drugs. And I can't even imagine the stupidity I must have been exhibiting when I picked up my first cigarette, and drank that first cup of coffee together at the same time. It became more than a habit, it became a constant routine in my every day life. A routine that, though attempted several times, just can't seem to be changed. But I shall not give up. I will not give up.
My mother decided to quit one day, and just did after 30 some years of smoking. She hasn't touched a cigarette since. That woman must be Wonder Woman in disguise. Though I must add that living with her for the next three months after she quit was like submitting myself to chinese torture tactics every day. By the time the first few weeks were over, I was afraid to even ask her for a drink of water. I think she should have at least chose to quit before she was dealing with menopause. Just imagine our families suffering, it was immense. But I am so proud of her. Even though now I am constantly hearing the lectures of how bad smoking is for me. Like I don't already know that. There is nothing like a reformed smoker.
So today is the day I have decided to give them up; again. It should be a very interesting day to say the least. I think I should just lock myself in the office and live in only this room in complete solitude until I no longer feel the urge for the intake of either of these evils, or until winter is over, one or the other. I wonder if this how bears break their bad habits.
Before I get suggestions to try this and that to help me quit smoking, I think I have kept the use this to quit smoking industry in business. I have tried it all. I think I have the amount of money spent on those types of things, and the amount of money I have spent on cigarettes and coffee at an even balance.
So wish me luck. Wish me a stress free month or two (stressful situations make me run to the store with a lighter in one pocket and about 5.25 in another and a coffee cup in my hand), and think of my family as they have to deal with their wife and mother who is upheaving her routine for the greater good of us all.
Tah Tah for now,
The Desperate Housewife

Saturday, October 23, 2004

Love versus Music

I love my husband but... I hate his taste in music. We are both musicians. I am a vocalist/songwriter and aspiring guitarist and he is a bass player/guitarist. Here is where the going gets tough. I am an 80's rocker chick, and he is, well, I don't know what he is. He listens to music that sounds like someone is killing a dog and it is howling in complete agony. And..he plays that kind of music all the time. Most of the time when I am highly in need of some quiet time. Distortion is his favorite sound. What do I do? Being a musician myself I can't tell him to "Turn that stuff off!" Can I? That wouldn't be being real supportive of him, nor to the music industry itself. And who am I to tell him that that isn't really music? That to me it's just a bunch of off key notes with some person screaming incoherent verbalizations, and coughing up hairballs. To him, that's Heaven. I have tried to be supportive. I have tried really hard. I even attended a Slipnot concert with him. I didn't understand a word they were singing and I was ready to sell my body for some tylenol.
Let's just say that our difference in music tastes lead to some pretty serious "discussions" in this household. Now what even makes this less fair is that our roommate, well, he is a guitarist, and lo and behold, loves the same music as 'Big Guy'. So I am outnumbered. And we won't even talk about the music that my older two kids listen to, but at least I can understand it, kind of. And then there is the Dora songs my two year old mimics. I can't win in this house. I would say it drives me mental, but I wouldn't have a far drive to get there.
Like tonight for instance, I was up in my room studying. I am working towards a Masters Degree and I have a big test coming up. I was in my office, minding my own business with my nose in my book. My husband peeks in and says, "Whatcha doing?" I replied "studying." He said "oh." Then left. Next thing I hear from the next room (the band room) is this extremely loud, distorted, I'm not sure any real chords were being hit, guitar playing. And what did I do? I rolled my eyes, and I shut my book, and I proceeded to head into the band room. And I asked him, as nice as pie,"Honey, do you have to play that so distorted?" Nowhere did I say "Turn that crap down!" even though that was in my head. And what does he do? Slams his amp off, rips the cord out of it, puts the guitar down and stomps down the stairs like our two year old stomps when he is mad. Did I handle that wrong? I didn't think I did. I could have yelled what was going through my head. And that would have been some noise that would have annoyed him.
Has anybody ever gotten a divorce over a different taste in music? Because I could envision him at that instant going to the court and gathering the papers. That is the distinct look I got from him.
Now we get down to my music. What happens in this house when I play my music? I get the eyerolls, and the changing of the lyrics to make fun of the music and the "Could you listen to that with headphones on?" and the "That crap is so outdated." (Yet there are more and more 80s tunes being covered at present moment. HA!) It's just not fair. I know my husband hates Air Supply, and I know he hates The Smashing Pumpkins. Do I play these artists at the capacity my surround sound speakers will allow? Of course I don't. I wouldn't have any speakers left because he would throw them out through the sliding glass doors. The worst thing I have ever done to get even is program the 32 program stereo all to one 80s classic radio station. Oh boy, 32 programs to the same 80's station, that must have scarred him for life.
So I don't get it. If he knows I hate his music, and he hates mine, why does he constantly annoy me with his when I don't return that favor?
I bet some are wondering if he comes to any of my shows knowing what kind of music is being played. He has come to one. Just one. And I think he was wearing ear plugs and had his selective listening skills in play. Have I gone to his? Yes. Why? Just to be close to him, to be supportive, to let him know that I love him, whether his music makes me want to hang myself or not. Do I wear earplugs? I could have fifty stuffed in both ears and it wouldn't matter.
So where do we go from here? I don't know. I guess I will figure it out about the time I figure out what the singers are saying in the music he plays.
Til then, tah tah.
The Desperate Housewife

A Brief History of The Characters in my Life

My name is Ginny, my friend's call me Gin, my enemies call me at 1 in the morning. I live in a little town called Union, Maine. I am a 34 year old mother of four wonderful children, though two are my step-children. My natural born children are Matt, who is a teenager (that should say it all), and Tianna who is a pre-teen(which should also speak for itself) and my step-children are Damian, who is 11 and Joshua who is 2 and possessed by Satan. I am raising all but one; Damian. So..let me put this into a nutshell, I have a teenager, an almost teenager who thinks she is in her twenties, and a two year old in my home. See why I am leaning a little bit towards the crazy side?
My husband's name is Steve aka Big Guy and my pet name for him is Sasquatch. He is 6ft 6inches tall and has the ambition of a garden gnome. Though I love him to pieces, he is slowly blending in with the couch cushions and I sometimes don't even notice him sitting there before I sit down. I will give him credit, he works very hard for a living and works a lot of hours. But after work, he is barely alive, unless you put a pool stick or his bass guitar in his hand, then he has all kinds of ambition. Put a lawnmower in his hands and he becomes a pile of goo on the livingroom couch.
Our roommate's name is Dana. He just came out of a bad relationship and is looking for love in ALL the wrong places. He is the sweetest guy in the world, but too sweet. And not bad looking girls. Not bad looking at all.
I am a marketing manager for a company that is globally based in India but has offices all over the United States. For the most part, I have the opportunity to work from home, which I do a lot because of my two year old. I am also a vocalist/songwriter and an aspiring guitarist. And I am a housewife by night. I am in my second marriage and managing to hold it together somehow.
I am currently hooked on the ABC show Desperate Housewives that airs at 9 pm on Sundays. (nice plug for the show, more like watch it and understand some about who I am.) This is where I got the title for this blog. This show depicts some of the crazy things that I have gone through in my lifetime of marriage and motherhood. I have found myself saying, since this show has aired "Oh my God, I have done that!" I completely love this show and thought, hey, why not start sharing my life in a blog. More like, "Look, another place to vent"
I hope that whoever reads this enjoys this. If not, let me know. Constructively please, us Mainers don't take kindly to rudeness, Ayuh.