The Urge to Purge

I've been purging all this week. I purged my bedroom of all my old junk: college books from 10 years ago, purses, shoes, clothes I never wear anymore, miscellaneous knick knacks, old makeup. It feels really good to purge, being free of all these superfluous empty "things. It's amazing how much we consume and consume and consume some more, most of it are things we don't need. Why do we make our lives so complicated by filling it with so much stuff? It's disgusting really.

When work was done in my room, my urge to purge still needed to be satiated.

So I gave in, I had to do it. I cleaned out my parents' fridge and it took about 3 hours. I just couldn't stand it anymore. I swear you'd need to wear a hazmat suit to open the door. My mom never seems to throw anything away. She was a byproduct of growing up during WWII which means throwing things away(even if it is useless junk)is wasteful. The fridge was just N-A-S-T-Y! Everything was covered in mysterious sticky gunk! I threw out 3/4 of the stuff. It was either expired or stunk to high heaven! I took the shelving apart (easy slide out glass shelves are an awesome invention...btw), took out the bins, and gave it good wash in the sink with bleach. I scrubbed every speck of mold and dirt inside the fridge. I was a cleaning maniac. Now it looks good as new. Big Eva would be so proud of me....

Note that I've cleaned out just the refrigerator half. Next is the freezer. Ugh!

I was talking the other night with HopAlong about the difference between both our families. He comes from a super clean household. His mom, Big Eva, is a neat freak known to clean the blinds at 3am. Although his house is clean, there is a constant streaming of noise pollution. Someone screaming down the house, his sister's music blaring from her room at all hours, blaring drunks on the street. It annoys him to no end. At the opposite end of the spectrum, I come from a very quiet but cluttered household which makes me want to tear my hair out. Piles of junk everywhere! I clean and clean only to find it at the same state as it was within a week.

HopAlong and I predict when we set up house together, it will be very minimal with a noise decibal so low, you can hear a mouse fart. I can't wait for that day to come.

The Day After

Today wasn't too bad. We saw Dark Knight at Storm Cinema, VIP seats again. We were 25 minutes late but STILL caught 5 minutes into the trailer. Can you believe that? I wouldn't say it was the best movie I've ever seen but Christian Bale is too hot. Heath Ledger as the joker did a fine performance (too bad it was his last).

After the movie, our original plan was to go to La Tasca and have Spanish tapas. We noticed how empty it was and went to the Red Panda instead. We learned quickly after the Giraffe incident...Empty restaurant = sucky restaurant. Craig had been boasting about the Honey Chili Chicken for some time so I was anxious to try it. Although the place was packed, we were seated right away and we didn't even have a reservation. Service was prompt. In addition to the Honey Chili Chicken, we also ordered Sui Mai for appetizer and Mongolian Beef as the other entree. Mongolian Beef was out of this world. It's the best Chinese food I've had in Belfast, I must say. The Honey Chili chicken was sweet but had a mild spicy kick to it. Chicken was juicy and moist. The beef was tender and the sauce was gorgeous. Craig wanted to appear all cultural and civilized, so he ordered green tea. The Chinese waitress gave him a talking to and said they don't have green tea but the Chinese tea (meaning green tea is Japanese). She came out with a tall mug of steaming hot water with a ball of green prickly stuff. The prickly stuff started to unravel and bloom into a beautiful flower. It was neat!!!



Food: 3 1/2
Customer Service: 4
Atmosphere: 2 If it weren't for the blaring ABBA music, I'd give it a 3.

I was craving for a chocolate sundae with a cherry on top. So we went downstairs to the American Diner and guess what? IT WAS CLOSED!!! I was just about going to lose it. My eyes were going to well up in tears but I held back. It was 9PM and Craig didn't know where else to get a sundae so we just took the taxi back to stranmillis and had chocolate cake and milkshakes. I was picking at my chocolate cake and Craig said, "You don't look to happy. Are you sure you're going to last six weeks?". I just sighed and frowned.

I went to Centra to get some junk to stuff my pathetic face. Craig hobbled back to the house. We planned to have a pity party fest and watch cheesey romantic movies. Tonight he was going to be my girlfriend and consoling shoulder. Everything started to become a disaster again. Him hobbling up and down the stairs to the bathroom cuz he has the runs (must be the milkshake). I gave him a fright while I was getting glasses out of the cabinet. I dropped a glass and it smashed to the floor. I was like just great, my nerves are hanging on by a thread here. I wanted to burst out crying. I sweept the glass and headed back upstairs. Here is Craig again hobbling up from the bathroom. He's out of breath and sweating like a racing snake. He just stood there looking at me trying to catch his breath. I asked if he was ok. He held out his arms and told me to give him a cuddle and he said, "I appreciate everything you've done for me these past few months, and what you've sacrificed to get here. I know I've ruined your trip and I'm sorry. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You are special to me and I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?" He reaches into his pocket and takes out a gorgeous ring. I say, YES! and he puts it on my finger. A perfect fit! I love it. I love him more than anything. Even though it has been shitty most of the time due to outside circumstances, it was all worth it because we have each other. I'm actually grateful for all these shitty events because it made everything else all that special and I am confident we can handle anything that comes our way with laughter and a smile (even though sometimes it can be hard, we are there for each other and that's all that matters). I know it's not the grand romantic storybook fairytale. No trips to exotic places and proposing in front of an island sunset. No fanfare. Just simple and real in our wee room in South Belfast. I couldn't have asked for anything farther from perfect.

A ruby (my birthstone)encircled with diamonds (his birthstone) represents me being the center of his life and his continous loyalty and love for me.

Picnic at Belfast City Hospital

The past two days have been hell and I haven't slept very much lately. On Monday, Craig went to a coworker's house to fix his computer. Fixing computers led to the pub, Craig calling me 6 times sounding really wasted, and him coming home in the taxi shit-faced drunk. Before you accuse him of being an alcoholic, Craig honestly does not drink that much (a few Guinness here and there) and he absolutely HATES people getting drunk. Never in my life have I ever seen him like this.

His coworker calls and send Craig in a taxi because he is drunk. The taxi pulls up across the street, I struggle to get to the other side because our street is heavy traffic area and I was afraid he would get run over. He stumbles out of the taxi and opens the trunk of the taxi. The taxi driver gets out and says, "Why are you opening my boot?!?". I search Craig's pockets for his wallet because I didn't have any cash to pay the driver. The driver was like, "Who are you?!?!?". "I'm his girlfriend! Did he pay you for the taxi?" The taxi driver said that man who put him in a taxi did. Oh ok! Phew!

I drag him to the house as we stopped traffic. It was so embarassing. All the while, I was furious yelling at him that he's so fucked when he gets sober, and wait until his mom hears about this! I tell him to sit down in the living room like a drill sargeant. He complies. His eyes were glassy and so far gone! And great timing too, our roommate Connie was moving the rest of her stuff in and this was the first time she's ever met Craig. Connie was like, "Is he ok?!?". I whispered, he's drunk as I was talking to his mom on the phone. What a great first impression he made Connie. No wonder she locks her door every minute of the day. His mom told me that he is behaving unusually. He never gets drunk. He either just goes for coffee, if he does go out to drink, he just goes to bed but is never drunk.

So I tell him to go upstairs and he was limping and stumbling, all the while I'm freaking out because I've never cared for a drunk person ever in my life. I was hoping he'd just go to bed and sleep. He was walking up the stairs and I feared he'd lose balance fall backwards and break his neck! I screamed when he slipped! "Goddamn you!", I screamed. But he made it. He sat on the edge of the bed and started crying. I held him and asked him what was wrong. He just kept crying. I told him to lay down so he did sobbing into a pillow. He then fell asleep. I was like, thank god. I get the trash can and set it next to him. I wanted to get a glass of water but I didn't want him to be walking down three flights of stairs. So I sat there watching him breathe and making sure he was getting the right number of breaths per minute and his lips and nails aren't blue, take his pulse. I took a first aid training course a long time ago in college and one of the workshops was determining signs and symptoms of alcohol poisoning. Everything is in check. Afterwhile, he starts hyperventilating, I freak out and try to jar him awake for response. He starts sobbing again and clenching his teeth and grabbing everything in sight, including me, he pulls on my leg real hard, and then my wrist and wouldn't let go. I finally free myself and he reaches for the bedside lamp. Luckily, I got to the lamp before he did and took it away. Since I've never seen him in this condition, I had no idea how he would react so I kept my distance and called his mom.

I tell her he's being rough with me and he somehow, he suddenly wakes up and calms down. He heard I was talking to his mom, so he sat there quietly like a schoolboy in trouble. His mom comes and tells him to go to bed, and shape up! He undresses and falls asleep. I was afraid to go into bed with him for there's not telling what he might do so I was awake until he was deep asleep which was at 3am. By 4am, he came to and was awfully sick. And from there I was nursing him, giving him water, helping him piss, fixing him food. He said his ankle hurt. It was swollen pretty badly. I pegged it as a bad sprain so I elevated and iced it periodically.

Tuesday Morning - I finally got some shuteye around 7am. He woke up again and started vomitting so I had to get up again and give him water. It just stunk so bad, I was about to puke myself. I'm not good dealing with other people's body fluid issues. Come to think of it, not even my own. I had to clear the bucket and wash it out and stuff. He went back to sleep and I decided to stay awake and sterilize the bathroom and kitchen. That was how utterly disgusted I was!

I was helping him down and up the stairs to the toilet. I was pretty exhausted by then and quite delirious but I kept pressing. Around 6pm, his foot didn't look any better and he was in real pain. I walked to a pharmacy that was close by!!! The next pharmacy was a 25 min walk away. Fuck! What is it with this place? Are people not allowed to get sick after 6pm? This is when it really hit me that I really missed home. I miss how you can get anything at your fingertips and the convenience of a pharmacy practically on every block in SF such as Walgreens open 24 hours where you can get ibuprofen and a wrapping bandage before 6pm!!!! When we finally went to sleep that night he told me whie I was in a sleepy daze, "You are a better person that me, especially having to put up with such a wanker!". I moaned rolled over and stole all the duvet.

This morning the ankle wasn't any better. I went to the pharmacy around 8:30. It was still closed. I asked the shop next door what time it would be open, they helpfully said they didn't know. OK? So I come back and make fluffy pancakes w/ REAL maple syrup. We call the pharmacy and it is OPEN! Alleluia, he finally gets ibuprofen and I wrap his ankle. So enough was enough. Craig kept putting off the hospital and I forced him to go. We take a taxi at Belfast City Hospital. The taxi stopped across the way and he had to hop over to the ER. A nurse who had finished with a wheelchair brushed passed us and I yelled if we can use the wheelchair. She looks at us and hides the wheelchair in the corner. A kind woman wheels it over and made comment about the nurse, "I can't believe she walked by you and didn't even leave you the wheelchair! Hectic!". I wheeled Craig frantically looking for Accident and Emergency. We passed through I food court and gift shops, and I was like WTF? are we at the airport? What an odd layout. If you're at an ER entrance shouldn't the ER be right there? And of course, we had a defective wheelchair and it had it's own mind to go somewhere else.

We wait for awhile. And in my experience with the NHS so far, I packed us some sandwiches and drinks. Picnic at Belfast City Hospital! Yay! It was strange being in the emergency room of a hospital twice in the past two months. This time I was in the waiting room and Craig was seeing the doctor. I luckily didn't wait as long as Craig did for me (when I catapulted off his bike at 90 mph six weeks ago). They took xrays and it so happened that Craig seriously fractured his foot. If he put any more weight on it, he would have to get surgery! He has to stay off his foot for 6-8 weeks. He can't work because he's on his feet 8 hours a day. I got to sit with him while they plastered his cast. I took pics of Craig since it's the first time he's ever broken any bones. It's a milestone. First cast. The nurse yelled at me not to take pics in the hospital. What the fuck? They don't have any problems back home. I remember when my brother broke his foot, I took pics and the nurse even smiled and signed his cast! Fuck her.

The happy bunny!

On the bright side, we get to spend even more quality time with each other while I draw pictures of cocks on his cast for being a COCK! On the downside, we were supposed to go to Glasgow for 2 days next week. I suppose that's out and I would have lost out on $450 (no refund). Oh well!

Tune in to see what Craig does next week for more exciting, assinine adventures!

Cabin Fever

We have been shut in this whole weekend. Our bed has been unmade for 3 days. What's the point? We've hardly gotten out of bed and if so, only when necessarily like eat, go to the bathroom. What a bunch of lazy bastards we are! Housework has come to a standstill we are both on strike. Oh, the things you do when you are bored!!!



Fenian Balloons!

Arranging loose change by size and value

Happy Feckin' 4th.

Independence Day went off to a great start! There were much fireworks in the household today.

First off, I woke up early in the morning to go to the bathroom. On my way there, I slipped down the narrow stairs and cut my wrist on the fire extinguisher! I panicked at the amount of blood coming down the inside of my forearm. Running up the stairs with toilet paper over my wrist, I turn the bedside lamp on. Just as I turn it on, the bulb burns out! FUCK! Craig wakes up and wonders what the racket is. I tell him I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist! He says, "Good One!" and rolls back to sleep. Here I am seething with anger and possibly cutting a major artery and bleeding to death (I didn't it was just a surface wound but I was a drama queen!), he rolls over and goes back to sleep?!?! After I finally found a bandaid, I go on his computer because I couldn't stand to crawl back in bed again. He rolls over again and was like, "What are you doing, it's 6:45 in the morning?!?". "I'm on the computer, what does it look like I'm doing?!?". He rolls back over and goes to sleep again.

After browsing the interwank, I got bored and went to bed. Apparently, I didn't shut his computer down, so he gets up, turns his computer off, and says "You're gonna burn out my screen!" I lay there seething but told myself it's July 4th and I refuse to make this day shitty and make a nice yankee doodle breakfast even though he doesn't deserve it. So I got up and went to Centra hoping to get whipped cream, blueberries, strawberries, and sausage for our pancakes. They didn't have blueberries even though I walk in there everyday and see blueberries and rasberries. Of course! Of course today there wasn't any because I NEEDED them! Whatever!

I go back and make the pancakes. All is well and beautiful in the world again. I set the table really nice. I go upstairs and he's asleep STILL. I seethe again. He gets my goat when he does this because every single time the night before he burns the candle at both ends and doesn't wake up until 1PM and a whole day is wasted! He set his alarm at 9:00AM so we could do things today but he turns it off and rolls over to sleep and doesn't wake until the afternoon! It was 10AM by this time. With clenched teeth, I nudge him, "I made you breakfast!". He wakes up and we give each other a cold stare for what lasted like 3 minutes.

We go downstairs and I was hoping that STACKED fluffy, buttery pancakes and REAL maple syrup would cheer us up and sing to the tune of yankee doodle dandy! But it didn't. He sat there grumpy and sleepy. I asked him in a bitchy tone, "What day is today?!?" He retorts, "Friday." "No, I mean what date is today", I retort back. "July 4th", he says. "What happens on July 4th", I ask. "I go to work", he says. He's on the afternoon/evening this week and I notice he becomes a real grouch and does not allow himself nor anyone around him to have fun because HE has to go to work. The day is a countdown for him where he constantly looks at his watch. I roll my eyes and say, "You know damn well this is an important day for me."

Mr. Crabby pants himself. Can you tell he's really excited about his Yankee Doodle Breakfast?

He takes 3 pancakes and says, "They're stacked!". Then he slathers them with a bunch of warm maple syrup w/ melted butter. Takes a bite out of the pancakes and a bite out of the sausage. His eyes roll to the back of his head and says, "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm". Then he says, "You were annoying earlier this morning. Banging around the house, making all kinds of noise, turning lights on, and using the computer. You know, SOME people have to get some sleep and go to work." Yes, I was making noise because I fell down the stairs and cut myself on a fire extinguisher, and looking for a bandaid. I couldn't turn on the bedside lamp cuz the bulb burned out. I was making all kinds of noise because I wanted to cook your ass a special breakfast, and I would work if I could but I quit my job to travel 5,000 miles spend quality time with you, you ungrateful *&%&$**£&!!! I thought this in my head but decided to keep it curt and said, "I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist. I could have had blood squirting out of a major artery and STILL you would roll back to sleep." He says, "Yup, I would!!!" I pushed my plate, "I'm not hungry anymore!"

I stomp back upstairs, got into bed, pulled the covers over my head and started crying. Telling myself I want to go home now and this was a big mistake. He was downstairs washing dishes. I hear his footsteps and he gets into bed again. After awhile, I couldn't stand it and got out of bed to take a shower and go somewhere away from him. He was hiding under the covers hoping I wouldn't murder him. Before I dressed to go out, I went on expedia to book my flight home. I booked it for September 4th. I cooled off real quick by then, and realized that what we were doing was petty. We were both at fault. I was being a drama queen bitch and he was being a jackass. And in essence, he doesn't give 2 shits about July 4th. He's not American nor does he want to be! I forgot about that! I looked over to him and realized that the clock is ticking and I don't have much time with him. A month and half will come and go quickly. I hopped into bed again and gave him a big hug. He wakes and kisses me and then we made our own fireworks. Pyrotechnics so mind-blowing that it made you want to hold your hand over your heart, say the pledge of allegiance and sing the "Star Spangled Banner". U--S--A NUM-BER ONE!!!! YEAH! ALRIGHT!!!

In honor of Independence Day, I shall close this post with a pic of a crazy Shankill kid. I don't think he knows what happens on July 4th nor would he care. He's got July 12th on his brain and on his face! Whether it's the 4th or the 12th, same difference. After all, America's founding fathers did descend from Ulster. Fuckin' Right!!!

Lethargic

Just five minutes ago, I could see blue skies and the sun peering through the clouds. But alas, I knew it wouldn't last too long. The dark clouds were looming in near the distance.

It's seems like it has been forever since I have seen the sun. For the past few days it has been gray, miserable, and raining. I am not used to so much rain in the summer. Being a Californian, where we are spoiled by the weather with sun most of the year, I fear the rain and stay indoors. For Californians, the rain is an excuse to lounge around and be lethargic. I don't mind. It gives me time to reflect about my life and where I think it should be headed.

Lately, I have been thinking about this little experiment Craig and I have got going here. In the beginning, I feared the unknown and full of anxiety. I was afraid that it would fizzle out in no time especially what we've been through in such a short span of time.

Craig is constantly proving me wrong with the little things. For example, everytime he goes down to the kitchen he always brings back two cups of tea or glasses of lemonade. Just yesterday, he brought me a bottle of milkshake because days before I mentioned that I was in the mood for milkshake. I didn't even ask for it. It was in his mind and he just got it for me. He goes for a bottle of milk from the corner store and he surprises me with roses. He certainly is a trooper when I go out shopping, never loses patience and gives me constructive feedback when clearly he isn't interested in subjects like home decor. Or when he comes home from work exhausted, and finds me in bed sick like I am today, he brings me a cup of tea and picks up the slack where I left off: he does the laundry and cooks me dinner, the only dish he knows how to do perfectly...French Toast!

It's these little things that remind me of the relationship my parents have. My father dotes on my mother, he loves her so much and it just makes me wonder how much Craig loves me. Sometimes I watch him sleep, he probably knows since one eye peers open and closes shut. He reaches over under the covers and holds my hand.

It goes to show that he is anything but lethargic about our relationship.