1, 2, 3...no not Britney!

I went through a phase recently where I just wanted to date...and not just date one guy, or even two, but three at the same time! That's not my typical MO, but I was testing out the waters of some new found confidence and enjoying this new "appeal" that I seemed to have. Let's just say, I thought I had it all figured out, but these boys soon proved me wrong!

Trying to keep it "casual" I assigned them all numbers. It all began with #1. I originally met him one evening when I was coming home and got on the elevator. As I entered the elevator this guys dog leaped into my arms, and I was totally stunned and amused by this. He had said at that time "he never does that!" He asked me for my phone number and I gave it to him, but he never called, so I figured that was that. It was a couple months after that encounter that I went out to the parking garage one morning to go to work and found this HUGE truck parked in the space perpendicular to mine and it was blocking my truck in entirely so there was no way to get out. I left a note on the person's truck and I notified the condo association and waited for hours hoping I could get my car out and go to work. It was about 4:30pm when the owner revealed himself by coming to my door to apologize (I had nicknamed this person inconsiderate ass!). Low and behold it was the elevator guy (soon to be #1). He was very apologetic about blocking me in and about never calling me. He claimed he lost my number. He begged for forgiveness and asked if he could take me out to dinner. After some convincing I reluctantly agreed. Thus began the relationship with #1. Oh, I didn't mention it, but he lived in my building..and the first time I went to his place there was no dog! I believe the dog was a ploy to talk to women.

Not long after I met #1, I met "original" #2 who also lived in my building. This guy was a little pretentious and thought the way to my heart was flaunting his money and status. On our first date he took me to Nobu and on our second date he took me to brunch at Humphrey's. Of course I took full advantage, but it was pretty clear early on that this guy was not for me. He didn't do much in the way of making me laugh or keep me engaged in conversation or witty banter. He was pretty dull. Plus, dating two guys in my building was becoming a bit of a challenge. One day I was coming off the elevator and I saw both #1 and #2 walking in the lobby and I had to dodge back into the elevator and push the close button frantically. I later found out they knew each other and were gym buddies. I never really told #2 we were over, I just moved on to a new #2....but he cornered me one day in the produce section of Albertson's. It was awkward to say the least.

After I ditched "original" #2, I met new #2 at the gym. He was a vegan and very fit and perky! I was on the elliptical one evening, and I was a complete sweaty mess, and here comes this guy with his cheesy "you come here often?" pick up line. He was amused with himself. I have to give it to him though, he made me laugh, and that is criteria number one for me to like someone. He asked for my number and asked me out right away. Our first date was at Pizza Fusion, which was my first introduction to vegan pizza! I thought this guy was a little too good to be true. Our conversations were fun and witty, I really enjoyed his company, and he was beyond cute and sexy! Something in the back of my mind made me think there was something off about him, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I thought juggling #1 and #2 was going to be easy, especially since they did not live in the same building (that was just hard!). It turns out it's not so easy. Sometimes I couldn't remember if I was going out with #1 or #2 on any particular evening. There were many nights I didn't know who my date was until the doorbell rang or I went downstairs and saw who was waiting for me. Once I accidentally double booked a date on the same evening. Both boys were waiting for me downstairs and when I got to the lobby I tried to walk right by both of them pretending like I never saw them! That didn't work so well. This is when #1 and #2 learned about each other. Since the mystery was gone, I guess I figured I had to spice it up a bit more...and then came #3.

I met #3 at the trash chute in my building. Yes, I have issues with dating people in my building. I guess I just like the drama. He was hot though! When I saw him at the trash chute he was just wearing these shorts and didn't have a shirt on...that's all it took for me! I guess he found something appealing about me too, because he asked me if I was seeing anyone and if I wanted to go out some time. So, of course, I said no I wasn't seeing anyone and sure! Unfortunately, #3 turned out to be one of the most self-absorbed and narcissistic people I've ever met. On our first date he takes me to Thai Time (a not so great or nice Thai restaurant) and proceeds to spend an hour and a half talking about how great he is and how everyone loves him and wants to be like him. Not once did he ask me anything about myself or even change the subject to some neutral topic, it was 100% about him the whole time. It was all I could do from throwing up and walking out. Needless to say #3 didn't last long. I replaced him with a new #3 who I actually met while walking my friend's cute little Chihuahua's!

New #3 was outgoing and energetic, but was also a bit shy. He was a homebody and wanted to stay in a lot (this wasn't always so bad!) I didn't sense we were really going to connect, but I figured since I was test driving #1 and #2 some more I might as well let #3 go along for the ride.

The experience of dating all three of them at once was quite interesting and I impressed myself with my ability to juggle them all and keep straight the facts about each of them and I got much better at knowing who I was going on a date with each day, afternoon, and night. My weekends were always busy!

Things were going pretty well up until one awkward and still confusing evening. Let me start first by saying about a week or two before this confusing evening, I was leaving the gym one night and I saw what I thought was #2 walking down the street holding hands with a guy and then kissing the guy. I thought I must have been mistaken and it wasn't him...but later I would be corrected.

After #1 and #2 learned about each other, things got a little weird with #1. He became a little more clingy and demanded a committed relationship. I was pretty clear with all of these guys up front that I was not really the "commitment" type and I wasn't looking for any long term relationships. So, I started to pull away from him. Well, one evening #2 came over to make me dinner and we were chilling at my place, and I asked him about what I saw the other day on the street. He admitted to me that he was bisexual and that he was in a relationship with another guy. I have issues with this. I'm completely open to being gay and I have PLENTY of gay friends, but my feelings on dating someone that was bisexual were not really clear. It wasn't really for me, despite how much I really liked him. We had a long conversation and decided maybe it wasn't going to work out. Well, at the same time #1 was somewhat stalking me and had come to my door wanting to talk to me. So, #2 suggested I let him in an we all just "talk". I thought this was a bad idea, but having a little alcohol in me, didn't use my better judgment. I tried to tell #1 that I wanted to take a break and just have some space (since he was getting clingy) and then #2 reveals his secret to #1. OMG, this was becoming a Jerry Springer episode. We just kept drinking and talking and drinking, and drinking, and drinking (bad news!) The next thing I remember was waking up the next day and #1 and #2 were passed out in my bedroom (everyone partially clothed) and I had no recollection of what had just happened. When they finally came too, both pretended that they had no idea what had happened either and #1 freaked out that "something" might have happened between him and #2. Yes, yes...where's my Jerry Spring application?!

The whole thing was a complete disaster and everyone was freaked. I figured there was nothing that could be done about what had already happened, but I really wanted to know the truth. It was later that evening that #2 revealed to me that he did remember exactly what happened, but he wanted to mess with #1. He said it all remained pretty "innocent" and that outside of some harmless making out and flirtation that really all we did was pass out drunk. I'm not sure if I believe it, but it's all I got.

After all this happened, #1 kind of became "nuts" and very obsessed with me. He insisted that I stop dating other people and and be exclusive with him. It's a mistake to give me an ultimatum, because the outcome is never going to be in your favor. I basically told him to give me my space and to move on for a while. He wasn't happy about it. He started texting me ALL the time and it was becoming obnoxious. I told him to back off and to stop or we were completely over. For a short time he did back off and he was giving me my space. He backed off for a couple of weeks, but then left me this long and sad letter under my door about how much he really cared about me and that he realized he made mistakes and he really thought we could have something. It went on and on, but it did get me to reach out to him one more time. I gave him another shot, but it wasn't long before he got clingy and weird again.

Then came the final straw. I was watching my friend's dogs and I took them for a walk one day in the Gaslamp. Out of nowhere comes #1 and he proceeds to tell me how much he loves me and then asks me to marry him!! He even had a ring and everything. Um, how psycho are you, dude?! Of course, I said no! Even the dogs looked at him like he was nuts. He broke down crying and then began the true stalking. He started following me all the time, he was waiting for me in the mornings when I would leave for work, sitting in my parking space when I would come home. He would come to my door and knock for an hour and just sit outside waiting for me. I had to file a restraining order and I was fearful everyday to leave my house and to come home at night. It got worse and worse and then he attacked me one night. He had a knife and he cut my arm. I used my self-defense moves and hit him with the palm of my hand and broke his nose and made him cry, safely getting away. He was arrested after the attack, but was released on bail. When he got out he sent me a text message that basically said he was going to kill me and no one could stop him. I called the police and had to sit in fear inside my condo waiting and waiting and waiting. Finally, I received word that they found him near our condo building and he had a gun. He ran from police and then assaulted them when they tried to arrest him. Since he assaulted an officer he received a sentence of 6 months in jail. He was an owner in the condo and soon after he was arrested I worked on getting him evicted by the association. While the situation ended badly, I felt pretty victorious, that as a victim I did have rights and I did win the battle!

He was recently released and to date I haven't had any encounters or issues with him, so I hope it stays that way. Unfortunately, I am reminded of the attack all the time by the hideous scar left on my arm :(

Word to the wise...while it may seem fun an innocent to juggle multiple boys, it's really not all it's cracked up to be or worth the stress! Stick to one at a time, that's what I plan to do now!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

My dad is pimping me out! My mom thinks I'm gay!

I got a call from my Dad the other day, which is pretty unusual, because he normally just talks to me through my Mom when I call her. I realized when he called it was because it was my birthday, so it made more sense to me. However, the ensuing conversation has left me disturbed to say the least.

The conversation started with a "happy birthday!" and then some idle chit chat about stocks and the fam, which was all pretty standard. Then my Dad says "I showed your picture to some guys and they really want to meet you!! I'm not sure if they are your type though. What is your type?" Um, why is my Dad showing my picture to random men? For one, I don't need my Dad's assistance in finding a man. For two, these are random people he has encountered on his delivery route (post retirement busy work). For three, what picture does he possibly have of me?!

I immediately ask my Dad "why are you showing some picture of me to random men and since when do you care what my type is?" He said "well you never know when you might come home again or when one of these guys will end up in San Diego, I could be talking to your future husband." WHAT?! Is it because I'm 33 now? Are they desperate to marry me off?? This is the same Dad that once said "my little girl is never getting married, no one is going to be good enough!" Now he is just pimping me out to any passerby on the street?

I inquired further to understand exactly what he was showing these guys, because he exclaimed multiple times that they were going nuts over my photo and wanted to meet me. When I asked him what photo he was showing to them he just said "the one your Mom sent to me from her phone." I had no idea what picture my Mom could have possibly had of me on her phone. My Mom only learned how to even take a picture with her phone not that long ago.

I asked my Dad to stop with the pimping and then that evening I called my Mom, assuming she would be appalled at my Dad's actions. I told her what he was doing and asked her what picture she had sent to him on his phone. She then tells me "the one you texted to me the other day." Wait, what did I text to her?? It suddenly dawned on me what photo she was talking about. This is where it gets really good. See, when I go clothes shopping, I don't always trust my own opinion, so I'll take a picture of me in an outfit and send it to a friend, my sister, and sometimes my Mom. Yes, you see where this is going. So, the other day when I was trying on these jean shorts, I took such a photo and sent it to my Mom. The photo was not intended for mass distribution. I wasn't trying to look all cute or anything, I just wanted her opinion of the shorts (which mind you revealed much of my legs!). She thought the photo was "sexy" and ENCOURAGED my Dad to show it to any single men "suitable" for me. What is wrong with my parents?! It's not like I live with them and they are trying to get me out of the house, so why are they trying to set me up with men that live 1100 miles away?! What did I ever do to them? Why are they pimping me out with my dressing room pic??

In my conversation with my Mom she professes that I will never meet a straight man because I only surround myself...wait for it...these are her words "with those cute little gay boys." She asked me how I expected to meet anyone straight if the only people I surrounded myself with were gay. Then she gives me the speech "if you are gay, it's ok, we'll still love you. Are you?" Why is it that I have to be gay simply because I'm 33 and single? Good grief!

When I told her I was going to Disneyland and who I was going with, she said "but you won't meet anyone there if you are only with your gay friends, how will anyone know you are available?" Is she for real? She wanted me to go to Disneyland and find my future husband, while wearing a sandwich board that says "I'm single and I'm straight!"...please Mom!

This is an all time new low for me. My parents are so desperate for me to meet someone they are now working together to pimp me out. How much more humiliating can it get?! Please Mom and Dad....stop the madness!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

What a difference a year (or ten) makes!

This weekend I celebrated my birthday and I went to Disneyland! The last time I had been was ten years ago and it was a much different experience for me. It was amazing how much more I enjoyed everything when I wasn't bogged down with worry/fear about going on a ride or needing to stop every 30 minutes to rest. I've never really enjoyed anything so much. It was like being a whole new person.

From the simplest moment of walking through a turnstile and not having to turn sideways and suck it in to go through to getting on Space Mountain or any other ride and not thinking twice if I could pull the bar down or bang my knees trying to squeeze in, it was all new to me. Not once did I think I needed to stop and rest because I was tired from walking around the park. I could have kept going another 8 hours! Oh, and when I was cold and was offered a jacket, I didn't even have to think about it fitting (see "fat girl in little coat"!)

I didn't obsess over people staring at me or wondering what they were thinking, I just enjoyed myself and my friends.

Having that experience made me reflect on just how different my life is from just one year ago. I've blogged about how my appearance has changed and wearing a smaller size, but I haven't really thought about how different I am as a person. I used to always care what other people thought about me. I would try to lay low and not do any activities that could cause any possible "embarrassment" or bring attention to myself. I always restricted myself from trying things because I just assumed I couldn't. Like if someone wanted to go rollerblading or ice skating, I would have just said no, because I automatically assumed I couldn't do it.

Now just a year later I feel like I want to try and do anything. I don't want to impose any limits on myself and I could care less what someone thinks of me while doing any of it! I had an opportunity the other evening to try a little "pole dancing" activity and I didn't even think twice, I just went at it. Just a year ago I would have found a reason not to try because I didn't want to look stupid or be made fun of (or bring down the pole!). To be honest, a year ago I don't think anyone would have even suggested I try! Was I great at it? probably not, but I had fun! And the boys went nuts over it, so it couldn't have been all that bad...lol!

It's funny when I do things now and someone will say "remember when you couldn't do that?" It feels really good when I hear that, because it does make me realize how far I've come. It's like I've been given a clean slate and I get to start life all over again!

I feel very free now and I feel like there are so many adventures still to be had! It's amazing how my life has changed in just this last year, I am excited for all the changes that are going to happen in this next year. Dare I say it....maybe there are two pull ups in my future?!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

33 years...I'm surprised I've made it this far! What's next?

It would seem strange for the average person to say that they didn't think they'd make it to 33, but given my past, it's a major accomplishment to me.

As my birthday approaches and my life is in upheaval, I can't help but reflect upon my past, and contemplate my future. The way I look at it is, that I've been through so much in these first 33 years, that maybe the next 66 (or however many I'm blessed with) will be the best years of my life. Maybe I was just meant to get the bad out of the way to make room for all the good?! Right??

I find myself crying more and more these days and I don't really know why. Maybe it's a third life crisis? I feel emotions way more than I ever have before. When I'm happy, I'm REALLY happy, and when I'm sad I'm REALLY sad. Is this normal?

I attribute some of these new emotions to this blog and finally releasing myself from all that has been bottled up inside of me for so long. There is something very freeing about writing it and sharing it with people. Yet, it brings back so many emotions and feelings and makes me really contemplate what I want out of life.

I used to think I had it all figured out. When I was in college I was all about having an amazing career and being one of the most successful women in history. I didn't want much, right?! My dreams were big and my ambition was out of this world. Where I am today is such a let down that I think it makes me incredibly sad. Is it too late to be all that I wanted? Have I lost my drive? Do I even have what it takes? I don't know if I can answer these questions. I've never doubted myself before, this is very foreign to me. When it comes to my intelligence and my ability to do great things, I've never doubted myself for one moment. My self-confidence issues have always been with my physical appearance, but never with my skills and abilities.

I always thought I would be the one that would accomplish all I set out to do and that I wasn't just one of those people with big ideas in their 20's and fizzled out in their 30's. Yet, that's exactly what I've become. I keep thinking it's time for a big change, to take a giant leap, and set out on a new adventure. All I've done to this point is run away from one bad situation to another. I've become so trapped by the financial stability my career brings, that I'm denying myself the opportunity to prove my true potential.

Have I become materialistic? Can I really not live without the extra "perks" and comforts that come with being financially stable? I mean some of the best years of my life have been when I had no money and I really didn't care. So why do I care now?? Now I have to ask myself if I'm ready to give it all up and take that leap....and what exactly is that leap? Is it law school? Is it opening my own business? Is it moving to another country? Or maybe it's all of the above?

Why should I impose any limits on myself? While I would rather not be alone and I have had ideals of being married with children, the fact of the matter is I'm single and free. I have nothing that binds me to any one place or anything at all for that matter. With that kind of freedom, I could do anything....I could make the impossible possible...can't I?

I have faced death multiple times in my life already and I was given more than one second chance. I think I'm meant to do great things and why waste such an amazing gift?

I believe a new chapter in my life is about to begin very soon....

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Sorry I hit your Porsche!

I started learning how to drive when I was 14 and my mom would let me drive the Bronco in the back field. I would just drive it in circles and I loved going really fast and hitting all the hills and uneven parts of the field so I could make the Bronco fly! Yes, I do think this is where my bad habit of driving fast came from...my mom should have rethought this "safe" plan. Occasionally, she would let me take it on the back roads of Beavercreek (that's my hometown!). When I was 15 and I had my permit I bought my first car. My parents went in half on it and I got a '76 Toyota Pickup truck. I thought it was the coolest truck ever! It was baby blue with red side mirrors and license plate covers. My mom would let me take every chance I had to drive it with her as my passenger and I took full advantage! There were a few times she even let me take it out alone...and not just down the street!

Needless to say, I got a lot of practice driving, so when it was time to take my drivers test I did just fine! My mom thought she lucked out with me and that I was going to be a really good driver. See, my sister failed 3 times and was pity passed on the 4th, so my mom was a little apprehensive about the driving situation! That's another story in itself.

One week after I got my license I was excited to go out on the town with my friends...when I say out on the town, I mean the mall. I picked up Tony and Sherleen and hit the open road! I was probably a little cocky with my driving abilities and feeling really cool being out on my own, and wasn't paying as much attention as I should have. I was preparing to make a left turn and was waiting as an oncoming car was going by to make my turn. I got a little eager and misjudged the other cars progress and turned a little too soon. The car was a Porsche. I ended up hitting the back of the car and the back panel or fender (I'm not entirely sure because of what I did next) fell off.

It all happened very fast and I panicked. I paused and I was freaking out and so was Tony and Sherleen. Did I stop and give my insurance? Or did I run like hell? The adrenaline was a little too much and I hit the gas! I took off like crazy. The other car flipped around and came after me! OMG! I was really freaking out. I started to drive like mad to get away from him and turned into a subdivision. It was getting to be dusk and about to turn dark. I turned my lights out and zoomed like crazy up and down and in and out of various streets, it was scary! I found a side street to try to hide out on. I succeeded. The other car did not find me. We waited for a bit and then slinked out of the subdivision and decided it was best just to get home and get off the road! Our nerves were shot! I think Tony and Sherleen were a little scared...sorry guys!

Now, I couldn't very well tell my mom, she thought I was a good driver! I know for sure if I had told her she would have immediately assumed I was just like my sister and my driving privileges were going to be very limited. My car was damaged by the headlight on the driver's side, so I couldn't hide it from her. I came up with my story and made sure Sherleen and Tony were on board. I decided to tell my mom that we did in fact go to the mall and when we came out to the parking lot someone had hit my car and didn't leave a note. I was pretty good at acting and the fake tears were pretty easy for me, so I was going to pull out all the cards, but make sure I didn't go over the top. My mom was pretty wise to me after so many of these episodes when I was younger. She knew I had an ability to manipulate her with my fake tears.

When I got home my dad was in the driveway smoking and immediately saw the damage to my truck. He asked me what happened and I told him my story. My dad would believe anything I told him, so he wasn't a very good test to see if my story would pass, but he also had a big mouth so I knew better than to tell him the truth (although he probably would have been slightly proud of my rebel activity). He just looked it over and said "that's a shame, but I think I can do something with that." That's all I really expected from him. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for my mom, who I already saw looking out at me from the picture window...so I'm sure she saw it or heard my dad ask me about it.

I went inside and the minute I opened the door, she said "what happened and are you okay?" I sighed a little and then said "I'm really upset. We went to the mall and I even parked far away so no one would ding my door, and when we came out I saw that the front of my truck had been damaged like someone hit it. I looked for a note and there was nothing. We told security to see if they had any cameras on the parking lot, but they said there weren't any cameras on it." I wanted to cover any of her potential questions. I made my eyes well up a little, but didn't bring on the full tears, because I figured that was too much and she'd see through it.

She gave me that look at first to see if she could break me and then said "I should call the police to file a report in case we want to file a claim." She knew the idea of calling the police would panic me if I had done something wrong or illegal. I knew her too well. I just said "maybe, if you think we will file a claim, but I only have liability insurance, so what good is it going to do us?" That seemed to satisfy her since I responded calmly.

To put the finishing touch on it, I had told Tony to call me and mention the "parking lot incident" in our phone conversation, because I knew my mom listened in on all my calls. I was so good at that stuff! She was totally convinced.

To this day she still doesn't know what really happened. In fact, it always comes up as a "poor Debbie" story at most holidays. I still milk it for all it's worth!

If the guy with the Porsche ever happens to read this post, I'm really sorry! I'm much more responsible now :-)

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Zoo flasher

When I was little my parents took me and my sister to the Portland Zoo a lot, I loved animals, so it was one of my favorite places to go! We went to the zoo a little less after the flasher incident...

When I was about 6 years old, we went to the zoo, and it was a beautiful day. I had a habit of wandering off, because I've always been a bit of an explorer. I've just had a natural curiosity of all things. My mom did a pretty good job of keeping track of me, but I gave her a run for her money most times.

My favorite animals at the zoo were the bears, beavers, and the cougars! There was this trail you went up and you saw the black bears, bald eagles, the beaver den, and then the cougar crossing! No one ever listened to me when I said where I wanted to go, and my sister liked the monkeys, lemurs, and bats. Somehow she convinced my parents to go where she wanted first! I think my dad just didn't feel like going up the trail, quite honestly!

As they were distracted watching the monkeys, I took my opportunity to get away, and go find my bears and beavers! I really didn't have any fear back then, so I didn't think it was any big deal to run off from my family in a large zoo with no idea where I was going!

I found the signs pointing to the canyon trail and I made my way to the black bears! I was a happy camper. I was continuing up the trail and having a great time, when all of a sudden I got to the top and I saw this guy in a tan trench coat looking at me kind of funny. He got a grin on his face and then opened his coat. He was a flasher! I started screaming and within seconds my mom and dad came running up behind me. They were so mad I had run off and so relieved they found me, they didn't even notice the flasher. Once he saw my parents he quickly covered up and ran off. My mom asked me why I was screaming and all I could do was point to where he had been. I didn't know what to say!

Clearly, I was traumatized, but my mom couldn't figure out why. I started to do the motion he had done in opening the coat. My mom wasn't figuring it out. So, I just said "there was a guy in a coat and he had nothing else on. He showed me his thing." My mom freaked out. She was trying to find every zoo employee under the sun to alert them. She just kept hugging me and asking me if I was ok. I was just fine! I just wanted to go see the cougars now!

I was pretty resilient, it didn't bother me for long. I did milk it for as long as I could though. Needless to say, the next few times we went anywhere, I got to do what I wanted first!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

My white trash Christmas!

It was the day before the day before Christmas about 5 years ago and I was home visiting my family in Oregon. Christmas time is my favorite time of the year. It's one of the few times I get to see my family and all the lights and holiday cheer always make me happy! So, I am always in a good mood....so what happened Christmas 2005 was unexpected to say the least.

I went to the local Fred Meyer's with my mom to finish up some last minute shopping and we were walking through the parking lot to go into the store. As we were walking to the end of the parking lot this Ford Explorer turned in front of us to go and park, but was clearly not paying any attention and turned so close to us that the truck brushed my mom and actually knocked her back a little. I was instantly upset that this had happened and with the palm of my hand I hit the back of the person's truck to make them aware of how close they were to us and to be careful!

Little did I know that I had just hit the truck of the white trash queen of Oregon City (or at least that's what I'm calling her, there are probably others more worthy of the title....sorry OC!) She immediately stopped her car and jumped out screaming at me. She was like "why the f&*k are you touching my car?!" I explained to her that she hit my mom and that she was not paying attention and was being careless. She started into a series of expletives (I think she may have had turrets!) and told me she was calling the police for assault. I asked her "what exactly did I assault...your ghetto truck?" then I said "shall I apologize to the scrap of metal I touched? I guess I should be careful, because one tiny tap and your trash mobile might fall apart!" This only angered her further. I told you in previous posts, I need to watch my words! Sometimes I go too far, as I was about to do. She slightly pushed me as she was screaming and shouting her profanities. It was at that time that I said "why don't you take your white trash self, car, and family back to the trailer park and commiserate with the other white trash whores!"

At that point there was no turning back. It was just like in the movies, she took her earrings off and started hopping around like a nut job...then she hit me! Next thing I knew we were in a fight in the middle of the Fred Meyer parking lot! I was hitting back to try to defend myself against the scratches and punches. Her kids were in the car begging her "no mom! don't do this again, stop!" How sad. My mom was trying to pull her off. It was a low point in my life for sure. I never thought I would be involved in anything like that. I definitely felt like I was truly "Oregon City" at that point. I found some strength and pushed her against her car to make her stop and then my mom grabbed me and pulled me into the store to call the police or get security.

My face was all bloody, she had these long fake nails and had scratched my face as much as she could. When we walked into the store, one of the store clerks saw me and freaked out. She asked if we needed assistance and my mom just asked if she could get security. The security people came and took us into a back room. They placed a call to the police and then started to pull up the parking lot camera to see if she was still out there and to get footage of the "incident". They asked me what had happened and I told the truth. They said while she didn't have the right to assault me that I was old enough to know better than to say those kinds of things. Yes, yes, I know!

They found out that she had parked her car and come into the store to do her shopping! What an idiot! She was arrested for assault and it was like a cops episode. She was fighting it the whole time and they had to get her on the ground with a knee in her back to handcuff her. I'm surprised I didn't end up on cops!

Yes, Christmas 2005 was one for the books. The family photos that year were something special with my scratched and bloody face! At least it was red...very Christmasy!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

I don't feel pretty

I present myself as a very confident and strong person. I think most people believe that I am exactly that. The truth is I'm somewhat insecure. I don't believe I'm pretty. I find it hard to believe anyone would be attracted to me. I used to hide behind my weight as the reason why I wouldn't ask someone out or go out on a date. When I met Josh in college, I questioned every day why he would be with me, and waited every day for him to wake up and realize he could do better.

This is hard for me to share openly, because it exposes my vulnerability. However, I am hoping that facing it head on will help me break down my insecurity.

I hid behind my weight for a long time. It was almost my safety net. As long as I was overweight I didn't have to figure out or deal with my real insecurities. Now that I have come so far with my weight loss, I'm having to face it head on.

The thing is, I'm a pretty happy individual and I love interacting with people. For the most part I think I'm an extrovert. I love meeting new people and making new friends. Yet, when it comes to the opposite sex and actually expressing affection or making the first move to ask someone out, I can't do it. The same little voice is always in my head that tells me that I'm not pretty enough and he'll reject me. That's not to say I don't date. I just don't date anyone that doesn't ask me out. The problem with that is that I seem to get into a cycle of dating "not so nice" guys or some real losers. There have been a few people I've met that I think I could have really hit it off with, but I was too afraid to approach them, even if I thought they may actually like me. It's just too hard for me to conceive that they would. I put myself in situations with men that always turn out to be bad, because subconsciously I'm convincing myself I don't have any other options.

I'm at a point now that I want to start dating again and possibly be in a real relationship, but I fear the rejection. I still have a hard time convincing myself that I'm attractive. Honestly, I don't always believe that I am. I do love myself and I do realize that I have a lot of really great qualities. I don't believe that I have low self-esteem, I just don't "believe" that I'm pretty. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but it's how I feel.

When people compliment me and tell me I look good, it's hard for me to take in. I don't really know how to reply, other than to just smile or say thanks, all the while I'm thinking "whatever, you think I'm ugly". I don't know where that really stems from other than the fact that for most of my life I have been overweight and I was always teased and made fun of, so I think that takes a toll psychologically after so many years of it. I'm not really sure how to combat this little voice in my head that keeps me believing I'm ugly.

I know there is so much more to me than my looks, and I look for so much more in another person than that as well. Unfortunately, I think people are very much focused on appearance first and foremost. If you are not attracted to someone physically, you aren't really going to try to get to know them and find out what other great qualities they have, are you?

So, my new challenge is learning how to feel beautiful and get beyond these insecurities. If there's anything I've learned thus far in my life, the only way to conquer a fear is to face it head on. Watch out single men of San Diego.....

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Squirrels!!!

I went to college in Wisconsin, at Marquette University. The campus was in downtown Milwaukee, which actually wasn't the best part of Milwaukee. There were some sketchy characters for sure...but nothing quite freaked me out as much as my squirrel attack!

It was my Freshman year of college and one of my first few days on campus when I experienced the "Marquette squirrels". I was walking through campus on my way from my dorm to my first Biomed class. As I was walking past the courtyard between the Joan of Ark Chapel and the business school I was taking in the beautiful day. It was sunny and warm and a great day just to stroll along. As I was looking up and enjoying it all this fuzzy little creature just leapt out of the tree at me and onto my shoulder. I screamed hysterically...screaming "help!! squirrel!!" I flailed around freaking out, running in circles and looking like a complete spaz. I then realized that all the people sitting in the grass within the courtyard were laughing. I thought "what assholes! They are laughing as I get attacked?!" Then this guy comes up with a camera and takes a photo of me as I'm flipping out. What the hell?? Once he took the photo he stops and says "calm down, they are domesticated squirrels, you've just received your squirrel orientation. Thanks for being this years Freshman for my article!" I was baffled, what is a domesticated squirrel, and what article?!

The squirrel jumped from my shoulder, looked at me almost like he was laughing at me, and then ran off. At this time another student approached me and gave me the full explanation. Apparently, many years ago there was a priest that used to feed the squirrels and then the tradition continued, and many priests, students, and faculty would feed the squirrels. Over the years they became domesticated and had no fear of people. They would come right up to you and jump on you or let you pet them. They were just like any dog or cat. I guess it became tradition over the years for upperclassmen to sit in the courtyard and watch innocent Freshman freak out at the squirrels jumping on them. They would always take a photo and post it in the student newspaper with a little article about the tradition.

It took a lot of getting used to. Several times after that, even though I knew the story, I would still scream when they jumped on me.

One time I was walking to class and I didn't realize a squirrel had jumped on my backpack. When I got to my class and I went to sit down, I took my backpack off and as I went to open it up, I discovered a squirrel staring back at me! I screamed so loud and the professor just laughed. He was like "it's not the first time!" Then he picked up the squirrel and escorted him outside.

By my Sophomore year I was completely on board with the squirrels and from that point on I looked forward to the time I spent in the courtyard feeding and petting the squirrels!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

My sister tried to put me in the trash!

I am the baby of my family. I have one sister who is about 3 years older than me. Pretty much from the day I was born she was trying to get rid of me. When my parents first introduced me to her, she was not impressed. She asked if they could put me away now. My mom tried to explain to her that I was a baby that needed love and care just like she did, but she was not convinced. She thought I was just a doll or a toy and they needed to be done with me.

After my first 6 months of life, my sister decided that if my parents weren't going to get rid of me, she would! So, early in the morning on trash day, my sister snuck in to the kitchen (this was my home for my first 9 months before my parents bought our house), and she took me out of my bassinet. She managed her way down the stairs with me (pretty impressive for a 3 1/2 year old) and got out the front door. She was headed to the end of the driveway to leave me with the trash can. Luckily, my dad (the early riser!) realized I was missing and quickly went outside to see what was going on. He stopped my sister midway down the driveway and snatched me from her arms. When my dad asked her what she was doing she said "I don't want that here anymore, it needs to go in the trash!" My parents had a long talk with her and my sister came to the conclusion I was going to be around for a while, so I guess she decided she would just make my life miserable.

We were always fighting. Since she was older than me, she usually had the upper hand. She would never let me play with her toys and she thought she was so great when she got her Atari 2600. She was convinced she had me in her back pocket. Made me do anything and everything for a chance to play. Did you ever see the movie Goonies? Remember when Chunk does the 'Truffle Shuffle'? She used to make me do that all the time before she would let me play a game. Little did she know that just a few months later I would get my own! So take that sis!

When I was 10 I got an electric pencil sharpener as one of my birthday presents. I thought it was the coolest thing. My sister didn't have one. I went and got all my pencils ready to start sharpening them! Well, so did my sister. I guess she thought I would just HAVE to let her use it. So, I was taking my time sharpening my pencils and she was standing behind me wanting to try it out. She started to get annoyed and said "you've done enough already, let me do a few!" To which I replied "you can't use it, this is mine!" She was so pissed. It drove her nuts that I had something that she didn't and I wouldn't let her use it. She whined to my mom and my mom just said "it's her present, if she doesn't want to share it she doesn't have to, although I would hope she would." My sister wasn't any happier with that response. She was so mad she took one of her dull pencils and she stabbed me in the back with it! She used a lot of force because it went into my back! It was at least a 1/4 inch or more in there. My mom freaked out! She was afraid to pull it out because she didn't know if it would bleed, if it hit a nerve or what! They had to rush me to the ER with the pencil in my back. Thanks a lot Mom...what about lead poisoning!! Obviously, I survived, but I still have a tiny scar on my back!

Another time I had said some sarcastic and witty comment to her that made her mad and she shoved my head in between the iron rails on the stairwell. Well, once she shoved my head in there, I couldn't get my head back out. There was nothing I could do, I couldn't twist, I couldn't pull, I was completely stuck. My dad tried everything and without popping my head right off my shoulders, there was nothing they could do! My dad had to cut and destroy the railing! They were so mad.

The thing is...my sister and I were never disciplined. My parents kind of just let us have at it. We could be in a heap on the ground or beating the crap out of each other and unless we needed medical attention my mom just kind of let us "work it out." She always told my sister "one day she is going to get bigger and taller than you and beat the crap out of you." I guess that was the most discipline we ever got.

When they were building the house next door, we used to go play in the partially constructed house and on the dirt mounds outside. Since I wasn't as big or strong as my sister yet, I learned very early how to use my words to get to her. I knew how to push her buttons and what her triggers were and boy did I use them! Looking back I probably said some pretty cruel things, but she tortured me! At any rate, my friend Tamera and I were playing on one of the dirt mounds one day and my sister said some snide comment like she always did and I retorted with some cruel response I knew would get to her. I turned around and walked off feeling vindicated when all of sudden.."THUMP!" Something hit my head hard. I went down. I asked Tamera what had happened and she said "your sister just threw a huge clump of dirt at you." It was almost instant that the lump started to form on my head. It hurt so bad! It ended up leaving a huge knot almost on the top of my head that was bigger than a golf ball and slight smaller than a baseball. The next day was school picture day! Needless to say that was not a wallet pic my parents wanted to carry around.

We had a septic tank in our back yard (essentially our sewer system). Normally it was covered and underground, but my parents were having repairs done, so it was uncovered and the lid was off the tank. I remember one day after school when my sister and I got home, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the last ding-dong. My sister really wanted it and suggested we share it. I took it and shoved the whole thing in my mouth and then just smiled at her with my chocolaty teeth as I scarfed it down. She was so pissed off that she knocked me down and dragged me by my feet outside onto the deck. Then she held me up by my feet and dangled me over the deck and over the open septic tank, threatening to drop me in! Luckily, I was saved by my dad again! He was walking from the front yard into the back field and saw me dangling there screaming. I thought for sure she would drop me before he would get up there and save me!

One summer my parents bought my sister and I new bikes. They were awesome! I couldn't wait to go out and ride it! So, we both took off on our bikes to break them in. I went up the hill and my sister was going down the hill (our house was basically in the middle of two hills). My mom didn't want us going alone in separate directions, so she told my sister to go the other way and stay with me. Of course my sister was annoyed by this. She hated the "big sister protective role". She reluctantly turned around and rode her bike up the hill towards me. My mom wouldn't let us go down the other side of the hill when we would get to the top, because she could no longer see us. So, once I got to the top I turned around and started back down hill. My sister, still bitter she had to change course, decided to come up behind me on her bike and strategically bump my back tire with her bike enough to make mine flip....and that's exactly what happened. I went flying from my bike and ended up with scrapes all over my knees, arms, face, legs and gravel stuck in all kinds of places! My mom couldn't see very well from the end of our driveway what had happened. When she came running up to us to see if I was ok, my sister totally faked concern for me and acted like she had no clue what had happened. She was good like that!

The torture and angst continued all the way until she moved out of the house when she was 18. We had numerous fights where we pulled hair, scratched, beat, bruised, and just tortured the other. My mom was right, I did get bigger and stronger and I returned some hefty beatings to my sister. It was awful. Plus, she went through all these phases in school like - hippie (when she wanted everyone to call her "tree"), loner, dark/goth phase, drug phase, I hate society phase, I hate trendy phase, etc. So, I was 3 grades behind my sister, and I had to follow this "legacy" she established. From the very beginning my teachers were skeptical of what they were going to get with the "second Genthner kid". They were convinced we were not biological sisters after they would get to know me. When she was in high school and I was in middle school, we would ride the bus together. Kids were always making fun of her based on whatever her current "phase" was and I would defend her. I could be a good sister sometimes! She never thanked me for that.

When she moved out and it was just me, I do have to admit I kind of missed her. While our relationship was dysfunctional at best, it was still something.

She moved back several times after she originally moved out and we had some of our worst fights in those years. Those were her heavy drug years and it was scary at times. By the time I was ready to go off to college I couldn't wait to get away. I thought I wanted nothing to do with her and the feeling was mutual.

It was when I came home for Christmas my Freshman year that my sister admitted for the first time that she really missed me and that she wanted a real relationship with me. That was the beginning of something really great. We became good friends after that. I guess it's true that distance does make the heart grow fonder.

I love my sister and I hope with ever fiber of my being and every piece of my heart that she gets better and I can one day have my sister back.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

You've got no talent!

I don't know if gym class was required in all schools, but it was most definitely required in mine, at least through 9th grade. I like the idea of fitness being taught in schools, but is "gym" class really teaching kids fitness, or just another excuse to make the already healthy and fit kids feel great about themselves, and ridicule and torture the not-so-fit ones?

My experience was definitely not a positive one! I pretty much was a fat kid from the 1st grade on. I remember getting excited for the days where we would play dodgeball or sports that utilized strength a little more than the aerobic/cardio activities. Dodgeball was my game! I was a pretty strong kid. I could take them out! That was probably the only activity where people were eager to get me on their team, rather than picking me last.

I hated when we would play Red Rover (theoretically a game with no losers..ya right!). I was always the last kid standing and instead of them belting out "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Debbie right over" with enthusiasm, they would always just kind of sigh and say "come over Debbie". They knew I would break their link. No one could hold up against me. I was a big kid. Then the game would go on forever because I would break the line and then someone would need to come back over and join me and the cycle would just continue. Then they would all hate me for that because the game got pretty boring. Our gym teacher loved it, because then she could sit in the bleachers and read her book.

The worst was the "fitness test" days. It seemed there were far too many of these! On these days we would start out by going out to the track and running a mile. Running?? This was not something I could really do (or maybe I could, but I was never encouraged). I would always start out believing that this was the time I was going to do it, but I would get a quarter way down the track and feel like I was going to die. I would walk the rest of the way. It was supposed to be 4 laps around the track to complete a mile. The others would pass me several times and by the time I finished one lap they had finished their 4! For the first few years the gym teacher would always make me keep going and walk all 4 until I finished. I would usually clock about a 30 minute mile. The other kids always came in between 6-8 minutes. It didn't end there though..after the mile we would go inside and we had to do bleacher sprints (running up and down the bleachers...I always fell), then we would go to the pull up station (as if!), then push ups, then sit-ups, then running sprints! I sucked at all of the above. Instead of the gym teacher encouraging me, she would always just say things like "going to give up again Debbie?", "think you might be able to even do one this time?", "all the other kids can do this, you just don't try". Shouldn't an educator (whether it's PE or Math be supportive and encouraging?). If other kids made fun of me, she would laugh to. I remember once she told this kid that was always really mean to me "good one!" after he made some cruel joke to me. I started trying to create reasons why I couldn't participate. I would purposely scratch the inside of my nose to make it bleed so I could say I was suffering from nose bleeds. That worked for a long time. By the time I was in 6th grade, the gym teacher would just tell me "Debbie just sit this out." Thanks, really. Maybe if someone had given me the time of day, pushed me a little, gave me the tiniest encouragement, I could have learned the importance of fitness much earlier than I did!

Once the principal realized the teacher was sitting me out of most of the activities in class, he stepped in, but not to discipline the teacher. He talked to me and suggested that choir, orchestra, or band might be better options for me and I could substitute one or more of those in place of gym class. Of course I jumped at that chance! You are probably thinking that it's a happy ending. No more gym class! Well, not quite.

I decided to try choir first. I thought I could sing. My mom always told me I could sing well. She said I had a beautiful voice. I was still young and naive enough to believe that what my mom told me was the truth and not just what mom's are supposed to say! I was in choir about 6 weeks. The choir teacher worked with me quite a bit. I guess I just wasn't getting it, because she finally suggested to me that my musical talent may be in an instrument and not my vocals. She said she had already talked to the orchestra teacher and I could join them right away. So, off I went again, rejected. So, first I chose violin, I thought it seemed cool and was a nice instrument to learn. My mom went out and rented me a violin and I started learning how to play in class. I didn't take to it right way, I definitely wasn't a natural, but I thought I was showing progress. I finally mastered "Old MacDonald Had a Farm", with a few squeaks here and there. I just couldn't seem to get anything else. My teacher suggested I try a different instrument. Over the next few months I went through the clarinet, flute, and trombone. I didn't really take to any of them. Then came band class. First was the guitar...then was the trumpet...then the drums. Nope. Debbie's got no talent! Thank goodness I was good at academics!

Once they realized I sucked "artistically" and "physically", they suggested I spend the class time helping out with the Special Education students. I wasn't thrilled about this at first, because I thought they were saying the only people I could relate to were Special Ed. I was very wrong to have that attitude. Working with those kids was one of the better experiences I ever had. They ranged from 4 years old to 12 and some of them were the sweetest kids I've ever known. I even learned some sign language. It was pretty rewarding. So, at least elementary and middle school weren't a total wash for me!

Oh, and I had one other talent! Photography! My 4th grade teacher, Mr. Torgerson (who sadly passed away last year), saw something special in me and taught me some of his photography skills. He even had a dark room at the school and taught me how to transfer the film to the reel (basically blind) and how to develop a picture. It was a pretty cool process and I picked it up pretty quickly. They let me take all the pictures for Kite Day! Ya, that's right, Kite Day...show me some respect!

I could have let all these bad experiences keep me from wanting to try new things or take risks, but really it did the opposite for me. It triggered something inside of me that made me want to try anything and everything, because I wanted to prove to people I could do it! Plus, I became so used to the teasing, ridicule, and rejection that none of it really phased me anymore.

To this day I still sing my little heart out in my car, shower, and anytime I'm just in the mood! I still believe my mom...I have a beautiful voice! Bring on my triangle (I can play like no one else)! I do have talent!!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

I want my cupcake!!

Last summer I learned I had to have open heart surgery to repair a tear in my heart. The funny thing is, I didn't know anything was wrong with my heart. I never had any pains or obvious symptoms. The way I found out was because I moved into a new condo and when I was unpacking my cups and mugs I dropped a mug on my foot and when it shattered a piece of glass stabbed the top of my foot. It was such a bloody mess, you would have thought I was going to need stitches or something awful. So, I went to urgent care (of course!) and when they brought me back to evaluate my situation they checked my heartbeat. The nurse thought it sounded off and had the doctor double check. He thought there was some irregularity as well. So, they had me go through a few x-rays and do an EKG.

When they actually got to treating my foot, they cleaned it up and all that blood was from the tiniest little cut on my foot. The doctor pretty much put a band-aid on it and acted like he was "kissing the boo-boo". So embarrassing...but so lucky it happened as it turns out...

A week or so after that my doctor called me and said he had received some of my test results and x-rays from the urgent care doctor and he needed to talk to me right away. WHAT?! How can a doctor leave a voicemail like that? I was freaking out! When I finally got in contact with him he told me that the tests and film suggested I had a tear in my heart that was not currently life threatening, but needed to be treated. I guess I was relieved and nervous at the same time. I had been through a similar surgery 12 years ago and it was touch and go.

This all stemmed from an attack when I was 20. I was jogging home one night and I went through my usual path, which just happened to be in a dark and unsecured area on the backside of campus. I am smart, but my common sense didn't kick in back then. I was attacked as I was jogging past the large campus parking lot that was mostly empty. I was stabbed 27 times and surely should have died, but in some miracle I survived. At one point in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, I was told that they called in that I was "DOA". That's how bad it was. The doctors and surgeons that worked on me back then were amazing. They stopped at nothing to save my life. They had to work very hard on my heart though, it was badly damaged.

The recent tear happened because of my change in activity and I stressed my heart more than it had ever been, so the original "repair" job didn't hold up. There was some concern my heart was too damaged or scarred from the previous surgery to hold up to another one.

I had to have the surgery in Wisconsin, so I flew off on Tuesday night, still not sure what was going to happen. There was some possibility it could be minimally invasive surgery, but I wouldn't know that until my pre-op evaluation with the surgeon. Oh, and the surgeon...was the same one that saved me 12 years ago!

When it was time for my surgery I happily learned that they were going to be able to do minimally invasive and that meant they did not have to crack my chest and shorter recovery time! I was so happy about that! Plus they determined my heart was actually in very good shape! Yay across the board!

The surgery went very well and I was feeling lively already the day after. My sister and husband were there to support me prior to going off to enjoy their vacay in Chicago. I asked my sister to bring me a cupcake, because that's all I seemed to want as soon as I came to! I'm convinced the surgeon sewed up some cupcake in my heart! (kind of like the Seinfeld Jr. Mint episode.) So, my sister went out and found me my favorite cupcake...red velvet! Yum! The nurse had said I couldn't really have any sweets and there was a whole list of foods off limits, so my sister tried to smuggle in the cupcake. Unfortunately, the nurse caught her and took my cupcake! Tim asked for her to hold onto it and they would take it when they left. When they went to leave, Tim went to ask for it and it was gone! The nurse ate my cupcake!!

For the next two days attempts were made to smuggle me cupcakes, but that nurse was a cupcake Nazi! I've never craved anything so badly, it was miserable.

After I was released I went to stay with my friend Alicia until I was cleared to fly home to San Diego. She is a stickler for the rules, so I knew she wasn't going to get me a cupcake. However, I thought she might give in and give me some kind of a treat. I was right. She had made some cookies and said I could have just one! She left the cookie on a plate for me next to my bed and went off to work. I fell asleep shortly after, dreaming of eating that cookie. When I woke up, I found that her big fat 20 pound cat, Tinkerbell, ate my cookie!! Tinkerbell...how could you?! When Alicia got home, I told her how Tinkerbell ate my cookie, and I deserved another one. She said "no, how do I know if you ate the cookie? You snooze you lose!" Ugh, so mean!

I left Wisconsin having never received a cupcake or a cookie!! Damn you Wisconsin! Upon arriving in San Diego, all I could think of was getting a cupcake. I arrived home on a Wednesday and by Friday I managed to get out of the house and my friend Cecily finally made my cupcake fantasies come true! Thank you Heavenly Cupcake...it was so good!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!