The Heather Chronicles

First of all, can we all take a look at the Google ads posted to the left? Please note that these are based upon the articles I write, and what do I get? Ads about full-figured briefs and urinary incontinence. Sigh. I will sit on my bed and meditate upon the fact that I am not fat, nor do I pee my pants...alll the time.

So, a brief story. We all know of my fondness for poo humor. I think it's funny. I can be blunt about it. I think people are too uptight about it. However, I don't want you seeing me shitting. I don't want to see YOU shitting. And I sure as hell would prefer if I lived my life with no physical interaction with poo. Unfortunately life doesn't play that way. I had to once blow ass, singing and covered, while my ex-boyfriend showered, when he refused to leave the single bathroom in his townhome. I once had to endure a conversation with my ex-fiance on the toilet as he shat. And of course, I've had WAY too many encounters with the actual stuff that only bad dreams are made of, and it's not so funny when it's up close and personal.

Today definitely made the top five of my poo encounters. I have a Nextel phone for work, and am supposed to carry it with me at all times. Many a time, I have been told that I need to wear the pants clip thing to hold it near my hip. That just doesn't fly with me, and I've refused. Instead, it's always either in my hand, pocket or purse depending on where I am. Today the phone was in the pouch pocket of my sweathshirt.

It was late afternoon. The sky was blue, the temperature about 65 degrees. Life was good. I felt a weight in my tummy and knew it was time to poo. I went to the single shooter ladies room at my office and released. I felt better and life was better. Then came the next part...I had to wipe.

I made it a few wipes into the process when it happened. In wiping, I had to lean forward a bit and then BLOP! My phone somehow managed to slide out of my pouch pocket and into the watery grave of the toilet. I made a loud noise...a mix of a loud gasp and a scream. I heard my Mom call out, "WHAT?" And I laughed. My toilet had fallen into a toilet full of shit.

I did not want to do this, but I HAD to! I thrust my hand into the water, carefully maneuvering around the pile I had created, grabbed my phone and threw it on the floor. I laughed my ass off and continued to do so as I then sat back down and finished wiping. Once finished, I flushed, washed my hands, and whipped open the door. My Mom came running and there we stood looking at the lifeless corpse of phone laying in a small puddle of water on the floor.

"I dropped my phone in my shit, " I said, answering the question my Mother had not spoken.

Like the surgeon that is buried deep within all mothers, she ran for the paper towels. Handing me a few squares, she spouted, "Wipe up the floor." In the same instant, she scooped up the phone with paper towels and walked to my desk to get the Purell. Like a nurse tending to a wound, she carefully wiped down my phone.

Laughter ensued the entire time. Then came the kicker. As she wiped down my phone, she laughed harder as she showed me the paper towel....my phone had shit on it. I kid you not, there was full on poo on my phone. Not a lot, but hey, a little dab will do yah. And still with the love of a mother, she continued to sanitize my poo-phone. I love my mom. I would have thrown it in the garbage.

My phone is currently in the refrigerator at the office. We found something online about doing so, that the fridge acts as a dehumidifier. We did so earlier, and then tried to get it to work. Alas, it was dead. We're rooting for it's recovery, as the thing we read said to leave it in the fridge for 24 hours.

I'm not sure if the phone will survive. Personally, after knowing that the phone rested upon my poo, I'm not sure I WANT it to survive. It's like that episode of Seinfeld where George brings the book into the bathroom, and it gets marked. My phone is marked. It's tainted. It's a dirty, dirty phone.

It's total, fucking Karma, I think.

Life is pretty boring right now, yet I'm very content. However, besides some driving the wrong way down a one-way street, and a sudden invasion of invisible drivers, nothing has been going on. I've actually been pretty anti-social. Not depressed, but just enjoying my time alone right now. Anyways, I feel like I need to put something up here so I will share a story in honor of one of my best friends.

This weekend is my friend, Michelle's baby shower. This is baby #2 and we've all been keeping the sex of the baby secret for five months, which is a frickin' miracle! Michelle has been on my mind a lot, with these new adventures coming her way. And with the new adventures, I think of the old ones.

Michelle, this is for you. Read More

Some of you have heard about the crazy man that sits on the corner by Starbucks with his bible-ranting sandwich board, and his life-size faux son. In fact I think I've blogged about it before. This man has a life-sized doll he has made, which he has pretending to talk to him, and then whips his head around to stare at you when you become entranced as to why the little boy looks so odd. From a distance it looks real. I thought it was a five-year old with strange facial features the first time I saw it. I was freaking out because every time I stared to figure out what was wrong with his face, it would whip it's head around, stop talking, and stare back at me. It wasn't until I was on my way back and was right up next to the man and his son, that I saw it was a homemade doll with a moveable mouth and giant, blinky eyes. We all know what that does to me. I'm terrified of dolls, and this was by far the creepiest doll I'd ever seen. I was convinced it was pure evil.

Today, I headed to the gym at lunch and the man was back. This is only the third time since I've lived here, that I have seen the duo. Today, rather than the man sitting in a chair, with his mock son, standing on his lap, he was strapped to the front of this man's chest, dangling and yammering his imitation mouth. Chills hit me again. I immediately called my mom. "The doll is back! The doll is back!"

Upon my return to the office, I emailed with April and told her the doll boy was back and dangling. My mind was racing thinking of the life this man lived with his doll. I told her it was like a white trash Pinocchio! So with that, my friends, I give you his story.
Read More

In a world of chaos and confusion, you would think we could at least get the little things straight. Unfortunately, that is not always the case. I don't know why I'm ever surprised when I get confused, or lose things, or have something strange happen, but I am surprised. Whenever my own personal mystery has been solved, I usually end up standing there laughing, thinking "I am 34-years old. Cant' I get this right this time?" No.

I am always losing things. Growing up, I was infamous for always losing one shoe. I would search all over my room frantically for it. When I couldn't find it I would panic, knowing I was going to miss the bus. Running about my room, I would start throwing things around like a madwoman, rather than simply moving something to the left or the right. It was a lovely performance for myself. Once I hit the point of tears, I would hobble down the stairs with my one shoe on my foot, and walk up to my mom sobbing.

"Somebody stole my shoe!"

My mother knew this drill, as it happened at least once a week. "Heather, nobody stole your shoe. Where did you last see it?"

Sniffling I would shake my head adamantly. "No really mommy, somebody stole my shoe! I've looked everywhere for it and it's gone. Somebody stole it!"

My mother, knowing that if I missed my bus, was going to have to drive me to school, would start to get mad. "Heather! Why in the hell would anyone steal your shoe? It's not even the whole pair, but one shoe?"

"I don't know, but they did! They stole it mommy!" I was now in hysterics. I pictured some one-legged pirate sneaking into my room while I slept. Frustrated with getting his peg leg stuck in sewer grates one too many times, he'd had enough. He needed a shoe. Thing is, he couldn't use one of his, as they were too big for a wooden peg. What he needed was a child's shoe, and he had settled on me for his victim.

"Heather! Goddamnit! If I go up there and I find your shoe, I'm going to spank the living daylights out of you! Are you willing to take that risk?" Still sobbing I would nod. "Okay, I'm serious Heather. I'm going up there and if I find it you're in for it."

"But mommy, you won't find it because somebody STOLE it," I screamed through the tears.

That was it for her. She was pissed. She stormed up the stairs with me wailing in tow. Whipping open my door, she would begin the hunt for the shoe. I stood in the doorway still crying hysterically. "See mommy! Somebody stole my shoe! It's nowhere!"

My mother then turned around with the other brown hush puppy in her hand, fire in her eyes. The tears stopped immediately and I ran into the bathroom and locked myself in there. Fucking pirate must've returned it when I was downstairs.

Though the tears have stopped when I lose things, the frustration and panic sometimes don't.

Today I vowed I was going back to the gym after taking three weeks off to be depressed and lay in my bed every night after work. I changed into my workout clothes at lunch and went to the gym. I felt so much better, and was all happy and smiling when I returned to work. I picked up my gym bag and headed into the bathroom to change. I was thinking of random things, and feeling happy as I changed out of my gym clothes. I changed my socks and bra, and then put on my sweater. I just had to put on my jeans and shoes, and it was back to work.

I took off my workout pants, grabbed my jeans and started to slide them on when I suddenly felt very drafty. Why is my butt so cold? I had my jeans halfway up my legs when I realized what was going on...I was missing my panties! How the hell did I do this? I grabbed my butt cheek to make sure I wasn't losing my mind. Bare. MY ASS WAS BARE! Where the hell did my panties go? How long have they been missing?

I looked down into my jeans to make sure they hadn't somehow fallen when I wasn't looking. Nope, no panties. I'm really confused now. I look down at the floor...no panties. I search through my gym bag...no panties. Did I wear panties today? I grabbed my boob to make sure I could feel a bra through my sweater. Okay, there's definitely a bra there. I got one out of two undergarments going. I had no clue what happened. I felt like I was losing my mind, as I stood there bare-assed, trying to walk through my day in my head. In going back to the beginning of my day, I know that I put on panties. I remembered it! I have no clue what panties I put on, but I remember specifically walking into my closet and slipping them on. So where did they go?

For a brief moment I thought maybe they'd dissolved. Maybe they were made of some strange material that when I worked out, it got too hot for them and they simply disintegrated...vanished into thin air. Poof! I shook my head wondering where these thoughts came from. What do I do now? I pictured putting my workout pants back on and walking into my mom's office saying, "Mom, I just lost my underwear. Somebody stole them!" My mom in turn would ask, "Why in the hell would someone steal your underwear?" I would explain that I'd had a long-standing issue with a one-legged pirate that had apparently moved on from shoes to panties.

Frustrated and baffled and I searched everywhere again and found nothing. I then took out every item of clothing in my gym bag and shook it out. Upon shaking out my workout pants, a black wad of material flew out and hit the mirror. I lurched my bare ass forward and grabbed it, as it fell. There in my hand rested my black panties. I'd apparently taken them off with my workout pants, apparently removing them in synch! The panties had nestled inside them and being the same color as my pants, became invisible to the naked eye. Yet, I don't remember feeling them come off.

I'm sure they were stolen and placed back in my bag.

Fucking pirate.

I just got home from work, threw some chicken in the oven and popped on the TV. The channel happened to be on Bravo, and Inside the Actor's Studio was on. Barbara Walters was being interviewed and the first question I hear is, "Is there sex in Heaven?" It then reflects back on an interview with a priest, and he is saying no. He furthers his answer saying how we will be on a different plane, so we won't want to have sex. It then shows an interview with a Muslim where she asks the same question, and he says that yes there will be, that not only will people have a spouse, but many sexual partners as well.

I stood there frozen. I wasn't fond of the Muslim's answer because I think that even when I'm dead I'll be about the monogamy. Always have, always will. However, the Christian's answer terrified me! No sex in Heaven? What the fuck?

Okay, I can understand saying, "No sex with monkeys, no orgies," or something like that? But no sex at all? I want to hear them say, "You will have sex, and it will rock! There will be no sex where you count the dots on the ceiling. You will have no sex with anyone you wake up to the next day and go 'What have I done?' You will have amazing sex with multiple orgasms! Hell, you can even have sex while eating cotton candy! IMPLEMENT the cotton candy!"

Now, I'm not sure what I believe about the afterlife. I'm personally rooting for reincarnation, but let's pretend I think we're all going to go flit about in some Cloud City reminiscent of the one in Return of the Jedi. In pretending that I believe in the stereotype of Heaven, that equals eternity. I grew up Mormon and they believe in an eternal afterlife, amongst many other things. Whenever they would discuss eternity in Sunday School, I would freak out. My heart would pound and I'd feel nauseous. I remember many, many times crying to my mother about it saying, "But what am I going to DO? I don't want to get bored!"

Mormons believe in three Kingdoms of Heaven. Supposed only righteous Mormons can go to the highest Kingdom of Heaven (the Celestial Kingdom), and yes I know, I think it's crap too. When I was growing up in the church I often thought about the afterlife. I would envision myself laying on some cloud, relaxing for a day. Then, knowing how I am, I would grow restless and wander the clouds of Heaven trying to find something to do. I would see people, but since it was all Mormons, it would be really boring. People would invite this wandering soul into their cloud homes where they were canning food, making caseroles, or baking cookies made from scratch. I pictured lots of singing since Mormons tend to sing and play the piano a lot, but none of it would be the music I enjoyed. I would try to tell a fart joke to one of the muffin-baking souls and she would gasp and look around as a bolt of lightening would then strike me.

"Damn it!" my soul would yell, only to be hit with another bolt of lightening.

When I was 12 I started to really question the religion I was being raised in, and by the time I was 14, I no longer believed what I'd been taught about church. Throughout my life, there have been many fights between my dad and I about my leaving the church. He would end up crying saying, "I just want to be with my family in the Celestial Kingdom." In which I would always end up yelling, "If the Mormons are right, I want to go where the FUN people go!"

So the illusion of a potential afterlife changed for me. Throughout the years it continued to change. Sometimes I wonder if there is nothing, and we just die and that's it. Other times I hope it's like the movie "What Dreams May Come" or "Defending Your Life." I really want to come back and do it over though, once again out of my fear of boredom. I ponder what will come at times, but am not stressed or worried about it. I don't believe in burning in Hell. I think that if there is something, so long as you try to live a good life and be a good person, you're going to be okay and enjoy it.

But then I saw the priest today saying, "No sex in Heaven" and it freaked me out! Despite my own convictions, there are things that trip me out and bring back the concerns of eternal boredom from my early years. This was one of them. The first thing I thought was, "Well if I'm not having sex now, I better get into action before I run out of humping!" I mean seriously! What if all these Christians are right and there's no sex in Heaven? They're all about no sex before marriage. So what if they never get married? Or they get married late in life? Or they are only married for ten years? That means IF they get to have sex, it sure won't be for very long in their scheme of things.

If this is correct, my almost 2-year abstinence thing is really going to piss me off! I decided to take a year off in March of 2005 after waking up next to some strange man I don't remember after a very drunken night. After I made it through my year, I decided I would go for it if I found someone worth it. Yeah, I know. I think some prude kind of creeped in during the year or something. Basically, I got tired of a lifestyle I'd lived off and on where I used it for the wrong things sometimes in my life, so I decided to get my head on straight about it, and continue until I found myself in a place where I at least cared about the person a lot. I've had some opportunities and end up stopping it before it gets to that point...because I didn't care about them, though my coo was screaming, "I CARE HEATHER! I CARE!"

So maybe I need to not care again, and start humping? Maybe I'll become some total whore, and my friends will hold an intervention. "Heather, we're concerned because you've become a slut and we never get our pizza on time since you keep jumping him in the hallway." I will laugh and respond, "I appreciate everyone's concern, but I'm single and if the Christians are right, there's no sex in Heaven. I'm getting it while I can."

Hell, I recently started the South Beach Diet and the night before I drank a bottle of wine, ate an entire frozen pizza, and a pint of frozen yogurt...all because I was terrified since I wasn't allowed alcohol, carbs or sugar for two weeks. I became a pig in one night over things I can't have for two weeks! What do you think I'm going to do for something I hear I can't have FOR ETERNITY?!!!

I'm totally going to start humping...

Someday...

With someone I care about...

If that happens.

Okay, yeah so I'm going to be bored forever with a barren desert of a coo. I wonder if you can masturbate in Heaven? Hmmmm...