September 17, 2003

My aunt has been living in England for too long. I say this because she apologizes to inanimate objects. We were walking through Dillard's in Fort Lauderdale, and she crashed into a rack of handbags. The first words out of her mouth were: "I beg your pardon! Excuse me!"

If my Irish father did the same thing, he would probably say "whore!" under his breath. If my American mother did the same thing, she would probably say "Who put that fucking thing there?" at the top of her lungs.

We're not really separated by the same language—we're separated by attitudes.

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Update: She did it again at the airport when she left: crashed into a Virgin Atlantic sign and apologized to it.

For, on that Thursday, I consumed:

• Three cups of coffee before lunch.
• A 20 Ounce Sunkist at lunch--an orange soda with caffeine.
• A Coke at a meeting.
• At Chipotle that evening, another Coke, with 2 refills.

I haven't actually calculated the total grams of caffeine for the day, but it was enough to give me pause. My wife had been forgoing caffeine of late. Perhaps I should give it a shot. The next day, I had a couple cups of coffee while I mulled this over. It would be Saturday morning before I went a whole day decaffeinated.

Saturday involved a lot of bike riding. I had a headache. I thought I was bonking. We got something to eat, and I was better for a bit. Then, the headache returned. I was suffering from withdrawal. Deciding that this was proof that this exercise was necessary, I went to bed early.

Headache was still there Sunday morning, but not as intense. I took a motrin, and pressed on with my day. By Monday, I was doing better (though some will tell you that I was in a foul mood the rest of the week).

Mornings were the hardest. An autumn morning with a slight chill just calls for a cup of coffee. Not even the caffeine-just having the warm mug in your hand. The ritual of adding cream and sugar to the mug. Feeling the steam against my nose as I take a sip...

The following Saturday I had a cup of coffee. I have decided that, though I don't want to give it up entirely, I would like to cut back. So, I don't drink as much coffee in the morning. I'm cutting back on sodas--my intent is to forgo it at work.

Of course, finding caffeine-free soda is becoming a challenge. Caffeine-Free Coca-Cola doesn't do it for me (tastes funny), and I never liked Sprite. I love orange soda, and a number of them don't have caffeine by default. However, I can't find any! All they seem to have is Mountain Dew LiveWire and Sunkist--both have caffeine!

I spent lunch looking for a bottle downtown (didn't have a whole hour). I wound up with grape soda instead.

SO, LIKE, YOU WANT ME TO GET OFF THE COUCH?

I have been labeled “bitter” by a fellow “noder” or whatever they are called, so I am just trying to stick to my label, enjoy!

Okay, let me talk about a little thing that pisses me off about J (the boyfriend). On the weekends, I don’t do a damn thing. I read or watch movies or go out or all three. It is the weekend, I am going to rest. I work 40 hours a week and have to get up at the butt crack of dawn 5 days a week. Let me rest and do nothing. J tells me I need a hobby. I tell him that I have a hobby, I read and write. And he says, get this, “No, a real hobby.” And I said, “Oh, I am sorry I didn’t know that you were the Hobby Commissioner of Memphis and you know what constitutes a ‘real’ hobby.” He wants me to do something active. Like what? I don’t play sports. I am not good at them and I personally believe that if you can’t do something well, don’t do it at all. I can’t play sports. I don’t enjoy playing sports. I faked injuries all through Middle School so that I wouldn’t have to play sports. I am not going to do it voluntarily now. And what kills me, the kid plays basketball once a week and softball for an hour on Saturday. He plays sports for a total of 3 hours a week and I am supposed to praise him for this? Three hours a week does not a hobby make. Of course he IS in a band and that counts and he spends a lot of time on that, but still. What does it matter to him? He says that he is “worried about my health.” Why? I don’t eat poorly and it is not like I am sitting on the couch and inhaling canned icing every day. And I told him that I have started working out on the bike every day and I guess this wasn’t good enough. “You need to get out and do something.” And I then told him, “You need to stop being my dad.” Actually, my dad could care less what the hell I do on the weekend.

And I hate it when people tell me what to do. I’m a grown ass woman; don’t tell me what to do. I am going to do what I want to do. And when I want your opinion, I will mother fucking ask for it. Do I say anything when he spends $1600.00 on a bass that he doesn’t even need? No. Do I say anything about the mounting {Miller High Life] caps on his end table? No. Do I say anything when he eats fast food every day because he is “too tired” to go to the grocery store? No. Do I say anything about the spaghetti that has been rotting in his refrigerator for the past two months? No. So let me sit on my ass and live in peace. I’m not trying to be your mother, stop trying to be my dad. Mind your own business, I will be just fine.

I do realize that I sometimes make the kid out to be controlling. He really isn’t. He just makes annoying suggestions and I get pissed off. But you know what my paranoid girl brain thinks about this “Get a hobby” thing? He is trying to make me Her (his ex). Yeah I know, it is a little far fetched but She did all of that shit. She played sports and was always busy and had “extracurricular activities.” Well that was her and this is me. I have brought this to his attention before and he got pissed. He said that he couldn’t believe that I would ever say that. Well it just seemed odd to me that he wants me to be active when he knows that Homey don’t play dat.

And do any of you ever feel that you really ARE like their mothers? Sometimes he does things that are so stupid I feel like I need to just pat him on the head and tell him to run along and play? I feel that way sometimes. Of course, I am sure he feels the same way about me. Do your boyfriends ever do anything like that? You just look at them and go, “How old are you?” Just wondering if it wasn’t just me being a bitch.

I'll leave the poor kid alone now.

Catherine Niuniu Hibbs was born on this day at 7am, weighing 8lb 6oz (3.8kg).

Father: Simon Dominic Hibbs
Mother: Zhao Ji-Yan Hibbs