I'm not a vengeful person. I'm not into paybacks or retribution. I may not have the most fond feelings for someone that I've dated and broken up with in the past, but I'm not a hater. Recently I developed some old film in my camera that had some photos of an old boyfriend were on there. We'll call him Jeremy (because that's his name!). For purposes of this story however, I'll need to back up to the beginning of "the end."
I dated Jeremy for a couple of months last summer. Jeremy was in the middle of a divorce and had a slight drinking problem. Okay, he actually drank a whole lot ALL THE TIME. He was a functioning drinker in that he still maintained his friendships and went to work every day. But every night, the drunkfest was on. He probably managed to drink a 12-pack every night and much more on the weekends. As for me, I'm a social drinker. This was one of the many cruxes (cruxi?) of our problems.
Jeremy took me to Oklahoma to a cabin owned by some friends of his. There were 2 other couples that went and it should have been a GREAT weekend. The weekend started going in the shitter when Jeremy couldn't come pick me up at the designated meeting spot (getting driving directions to the cabin was apparently too intricate down in bubba-country where there are no road signs) because he was too drunk. It took me 3 hours to drive down from where I live to get to the meeting spot and 2.5 more hours to get 5 more miles to the cabin. Needless to say, SCOOBY WAS PISSED!!!! The rest of the weekend was ruined for me from there. But no, this wasn't "the end."
The following weekend Jeremy and I went with some other straight friends to meet our gay-boy friends at a gay bar. Jeremy had never been to a gay bar and was extremely hesitant. Once he got there, he had a fabu time though. My friends are fantastic, the music is good, the drinks are made well, and there's plenty to see. What more can you ask?
Nothing major happened to cause "the end" of Jeremy and I. I think I was just fed up. Fed up with his emotional baggage. Fed up with his drinking. Fed up with conflicting signals. So Jeremy and I ended things quite amicably. You know, the "let's be friends thing."
The following weekend, Jeremy has a date with another girl and calls me to get directions to take her to the gay bar he and I had gone to. MISTAKE #1. Jeremy sees my gay-boy friends there and "claims" to have a girl with him. MISTAKE #2. Following this, the gay-boys decided to refer to Jeremy as "Scooby's Gay Boyfriend" and proceeded to tease me about being the straw the broke the camels back claiming that I had made Jeremy switch teams. It's all been a good fun since then. A harmless joke. Following MISTAKES #1 and #2, I clearly let Jeremy know that he had burned his bridge with me and that I never wanted to hear from him again.
As we all know, time heals most wounds. I called Jeremy today to see if he was interested in receiving the photos from the cabin since most of them are of he and his friends (I was the sober photographer). Jeremy and I have a friendly and innocent conversation and catch up with what's been going on in our lives since we last spoke. Of his own accord, Jeremy apologizes for acting like such an asshole. SMALL VICTORY #1. During the course of the conversation, he also asks if I am married. I eagerly fill him in on the details of KC. I am curious to know if he's married, so I ask him. Turns out, he's not even dating someone. SMALL VICTORY #2.
My friend Flik never sees the point of keeping in touch with old boyfriends. TODAY she understands. Oh, the joy. SMALL VICTORY #3.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Animal House
I'm an animal lover. Ask my friends. Ask my family. I love all animals except snakes and spiders. I'm sure there are other animals that I'm not terribly fond of, but you get the gist.
For 10 years I had a wonderful, beautiful, sweet and loving kitty...we'll call him Tom. Tom started coughing shortly after spending some time in the kennel over Christmas last year. I figured it was kennel cough and didn't worry about it. The cough persisted for a couple of weeks so I took him to the vet in January. After listening to his lungs with the stethoscope, the vet thought he probably had a respiratory infection and prescribed antibiotics. Ten days of chasing sticky, blue pills that had been gagged and spit out of Tom's mouth ensued. No improvement with the cough. Another 10 days of antibiotics were prescibed. More gagging and pill chasing. After five days, still no improvement. X-rays were taken and showed that his lungs were completely full of fluid. Tumors were suspected. Stronger antibiotics and prednisone were prescribed. No improvement. Tom even began gagging before I even got the pills out of the bottle. Repeat x-rays were taken and showed that the fluid had not improved. The vet made a final determination that Tom probably had lung cancer. Kitties can have chemotherapy but I was informed that it is generally too strong for their little kitty systems and most often they die anyway.
After 10 years of spending every day and night with my little lover kitty who followed me everywhere, gave me kisses on my nose, expected scratching and cuddling every morning after I got out of the shower, cuddled with me every night, and was the only male who ever loved me unconditionally....I had to put my loverboy to sleep. This was the single most painful decision I've ever had to make on my own. Watching his sweet little blue eyes glaze over as he stared at his mama was torture. See his pupils eventually blow and knowing that he was gone FOREVER was excruciating.
Coming home to an empty house was new and horrible. I hated to even come home because I didn't have my little Tom to greet me at the door each day with happy meows and purrs. Soon after, I decided to adopt another blue eyed kitty from a cat rescue shelter....we'll call him Jerry. Little did I know that this adoption was the beginning of chaotic HELL.
This little bastard deceived us all by pretending to be sweet, cuddly and full of purrs when I spent time with him before actually adopting him. He fooled me. He fooled friends who are vet assistants. He even fooled the vet.
Jerry (aka the Spawn of Satan or Satan, Jr.) greets me at the door every day but usually just ends up stalking me like I'm a tasty little mouse invading his domicile. As I walk, he stalks me and attacks me from behind biting the backs of my knees. When I am sitting watching TV, he jumps me from the side and bites the tender backside of my arms. If I am laying in bed, even sleeping sometimes, he jumps on my head and bites my scalp or neck. Even if he is having a reserved and quiet moment where he is lying in my arms purring, he will suddenly turn schizo and bite my hands or arms. Even now, as I try to have a quiet moment at the computer, he is trying to jump up into the armoire so that he can lie on the keyboard. Irritating little fuck.
I have despised Jerry. I have picked Jerry up and have shaken him while yelling, "You are no Tom! You will never be Tom! I DO NOT love you!" Is there such a thing as shaken kitty syndrome? I'd swear he's brain damaged. I have yelled, insulted and berated him. I have tried scaring him with loud noises. I have bitten his little kitty ears back just to show him how it feels. I have tried putting him in kitty "time out." All to no avail.
I have had to shut him out of my bedroom at night to protect myself and those that I love from being attacked as we sleep. Jerry hates this and throws his body against my bedroom door for hours it seems all the while pitifully whining and meowing in hopes of being allowed back inside the inner sanctum. I admit, I've given in on occasion only to have Jerry sit up on my antique vanity and systematically paw each of my bottles of perfume off the vanity onto the floor. He's been punished for this and all his other misbehaviors (is that a word?) time after time. The little retard DOES NOT LEARN.
While he is being shut out of my bedroom at night, Satan Jr. proceeds to methodically destroy the rest of my house. Framed family photos on shelves are knocked over. Crystal candle holders are broken on the tile in front of my fireplace. Plants are dug into. I could only hope that he'd eat a toxic plant and die on his own. The Human Society suggested putting double sticky tape in areas where kitties aren't allowed. The tape is an alleged deterrant since kitties are not supposed to like the feel of the stickiness on their paws. I should be so lucky to have him actually EAT the tape and die. This little mofo plants his kitty ass down on the double sticky tape and licks it. I swear, he's E-V-I-L (eeeeeeeviiiillllllllllll!!!!).
Jerry has moments of love and sweetness where he will cuddle with me and sleep. He gives good kisses. His actions aren't aggressive. He's never hissed at me, laid back his ears or even used his claws. He just bites with his sharp little kitten/cat teeth and holds on like a pinscher with the jaws of death.
Tomorrow I will be going to "shop" for another kitty to bring home. I can only "trade in" Jerry with the cat rescue place if I agree to adopt another pet out. Perhaps temporarily. Perhaps permanently. Once I pick another kitty, the cat rescue place will take Jerry back and will work with him to socialize him and to TRY to tame him and teach him manners. I may or may not take Jerry back after that. The truth is, I am attached to his sweet side and will probably miss him.
At this point, I'd rather have a ghila monster french kiss me than risk taking in another psychotic furball. I'd rather chew glass. I'd rather belly dance for a living. Satan Jr. better appreciate this, the little motherfucker.
Somtimes I hate being a responsible grownup.
For 10 years I had a wonderful, beautiful, sweet and loving kitty...we'll call him Tom. Tom started coughing shortly after spending some time in the kennel over Christmas last year. I figured it was kennel cough and didn't worry about it. The cough persisted for a couple of weeks so I took him to the vet in January. After listening to his lungs with the stethoscope, the vet thought he probably had a respiratory infection and prescribed antibiotics. Ten days of chasing sticky, blue pills that had been gagged and spit out of Tom's mouth ensued. No improvement with the cough. Another 10 days of antibiotics were prescibed. More gagging and pill chasing. After five days, still no improvement. X-rays were taken and showed that his lungs were completely full of fluid. Tumors were suspected. Stronger antibiotics and prednisone were prescribed. No improvement. Tom even began gagging before I even got the pills out of the bottle. Repeat x-rays were taken and showed that the fluid had not improved. The vet made a final determination that Tom probably had lung cancer. Kitties can have chemotherapy but I was informed that it is generally too strong for their little kitty systems and most often they die anyway.
After 10 years of spending every day and night with my little lover kitty who followed me everywhere, gave me kisses on my nose, expected scratching and cuddling every morning after I got out of the shower, cuddled with me every night, and was the only male who ever loved me unconditionally....I had to put my loverboy to sleep. This was the single most painful decision I've ever had to make on my own. Watching his sweet little blue eyes glaze over as he stared at his mama was torture. See his pupils eventually blow and knowing that he was gone FOREVER was excruciating.
Coming home to an empty house was new and horrible. I hated to even come home because I didn't have my little Tom to greet me at the door each day with happy meows and purrs. Soon after, I decided to adopt another blue eyed kitty from a cat rescue shelter....we'll call him Jerry. Little did I know that this adoption was the beginning of chaotic HELL.
This little bastard deceived us all by pretending to be sweet, cuddly and full of purrs when I spent time with him before actually adopting him. He fooled me. He fooled friends who are vet assistants. He even fooled the vet.
Jerry (aka the Spawn of Satan or Satan, Jr.) greets me at the door every day but usually just ends up stalking me like I'm a tasty little mouse invading his domicile. As I walk, he stalks me and attacks me from behind biting the backs of my knees. When I am sitting watching TV, he jumps me from the side and bites the tender backside of my arms. If I am laying in bed, even sleeping sometimes, he jumps on my head and bites my scalp or neck. Even if he is having a reserved and quiet moment where he is lying in my arms purring, he will suddenly turn schizo and bite my hands or arms. Even now, as I try to have a quiet moment at the computer, he is trying to jump up into the armoire so that he can lie on the keyboard. Irritating little fuck.
I have despised Jerry. I have picked Jerry up and have shaken him while yelling, "You are no Tom! You will never be Tom! I DO NOT love you!" Is there such a thing as shaken kitty syndrome? I'd swear he's brain damaged. I have yelled, insulted and berated him. I have tried scaring him with loud noises. I have bitten his little kitty ears back just to show him how it feels. I have tried putting him in kitty "time out." All to no avail.
I have had to shut him out of my bedroom at night to protect myself and those that I love from being attacked as we sleep. Jerry hates this and throws his body against my bedroom door for hours it seems all the while pitifully whining and meowing in hopes of being allowed back inside the inner sanctum. I admit, I've given in on occasion only to have Jerry sit up on my antique vanity and systematically paw each of my bottles of perfume off the vanity onto the floor. He's been punished for this and all his other misbehaviors (is that a word?) time after time. The little retard DOES NOT LEARN.
While he is being shut out of my bedroom at night, Satan Jr. proceeds to methodically destroy the rest of my house. Framed family photos on shelves are knocked over. Crystal candle holders are broken on the tile in front of my fireplace. Plants are dug into. I could only hope that he'd eat a toxic plant and die on his own. The Human Society suggested putting double sticky tape in areas where kitties aren't allowed. The tape is an alleged deterrant since kitties are not supposed to like the feel of the stickiness on their paws. I should be so lucky to have him actually EAT the tape and die. This little mofo plants his kitty ass down on the double sticky tape and licks it. I swear, he's E-V-I-L (eeeeeeeviiiillllllllllll!!!!).
Jerry has moments of love and sweetness where he will cuddle with me and sleep. He gives good kisses. His actions aren't aggressive. He's never hissed at me, laid back his ears or even used his claws. He just bites with his sharp little kitten/cat teeth and holds on like a pinscher with the jaws of death.
Tomorrow I will be going to "shop" for another kitty to bring home. I can only "trade in" Jerry with the cat rescue place if I agree to adopt another pet out. Perhaps temporarily. Perhaps permanently. Once I pick another kitty, the cat rescue place will take Jerry back and will work with him to socialize him and to TRY to tame him and teach him manners. I may or may not take Jerry back after that. The truth is, I am attached to his sweet side and will probably miss him.
At this point, I'd rather have a ghila monster french kiss me than risk taking in another psychotic furball. I'd rather chew glass. I'd rather belly dance for a living. Satan Jr. better appreciate this, the little motherfucker.
Somtimes I hate being a responsible grownup.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Glee
Is it strange that I care about who reads my blog? All this time I've been thinking that it's just my sweet and caring friends who read my blog. It's hard to wrap my little brain around the thought that anyone other than my friends would be interested in what I have to say. Imagine the simple joy I felt when I learned that I had a reader from Portland today!!!
Feel free to inflate my ego further and weigh in with YOUR location.....please? Yes. I'm begging you.
Flashback to Ferris Bueller's Day Off:
"Bueller........? Bueller........?"
Feel free to inflate my ego further and weigh in with YOUR location.....please? Yes. I'm begging you.
Flashback to Ferris Bueller's Day Off:
"Bueller........? Bueller........?"
The Yummy Noises
My friend Flik coined the phrase "the yummy noises" one evening as we ate dinner at Jason's Deli. She and I always order the same thing whenever we go there with very little variation. Every time she gets her favorite salad, you can always count on her making the yummy noises. You know the ones. The uncontrollable noises you make when you're eating something that seems sinfully luscious and wonderful to eat.
Every afternoon at work my co-workers and I pop some microwave popcorn to share during our last break for the day. We're all women, so of course we're all dieting ALL THE TIME. So for months, we've been eating that 94% fat-free crap that is loosely referred to as popcorn. Subtly salted styrofoam is more like it. We ran out of our fat-free popcorn yesterday afternoon so the SKINNY co-worker offers to buy more for us to share. Unbeknownst to me, skinny-girl buys regular, full-on fatty microwave popcorn. I shake some out onto my paper towel and throw some down the gullet.
Oh my God!!! Who knew all this time that microwave popcorn could taste sooooo good?? Who? WHO??? I need to know!! And THIS is how the yummy noises were introduced to my concerned co-workers who stared blankly at me as I loudly savored the salty and buttery flavors in my mouth. Right then and there, I decide that I MUST HAVE MORE.
After work, I called Flik to report in. It's a daily thing we do, Flik and me. So I call Flik as I'm driving to the Target (you know how I hate the WalMart) to buy some savory popcorn for my dinner at home tonight. Here's how our conversation ended:
Flik: "Anything that causes you to make the yummy noises should never be withheld."
Scooby: "I totally agree. Thank God I have a boyfriend who actually said to me 'Now don't you go getting TOO skinny.'"
Flik: "Oh my God. Can I make out with him later?"
Scooby: "Absolutely. And he's got a good one too."
And we both make the yummy noises with the thought of a "good one."
So tonight, as I sit here unashamed in my gluttony with my full-on fatty microwave popcorn, Almond Roca and honey roasted peanuts, I'm making my yummy noises. Gluttony can't REALLY be a sin, can it?
Every afternoon at work my co-workers and I pop some microwave popcorn to share during our last break for the day. We're all women, so of course we're all dieting ALL THE TIME. So for months, we've been eating that 94% fat-free crap that is loosely referred to as popcorn. Subtly salted styrofoam is more like it. We ran out of our fat-free popcorn yesterday afternoon so the SKINNY co-worker offers to buy more for us to share. Unbeknownst to me, skinny-girl buys regular, full-on fatty microwave popcorn. I shake some out onto my paper towel and throw some down the gullet.
Oh my God!!! Who knew all this time that microwave popcorn could taste sooooo good?? Who? WHO??? I need to know!! And THIS is how the yummy noises were introduced to my concerned co-workers who stared blankly at me as I loudly savored the salty and buttery flavors in my mouth. Right then and there, I decide that I MUST HAVE MORE.
After work, I called Flik to report in. It's a daily thing we do, Flik and me. So I call Flik as I'm driving to the Target (you know how I hate the WalMart) to buy some savory popcorn for my dinner at home tonight. Here's how our conversation ended:
Flik: "Anything that causes you to make the yummy noises should never be withheld."
Scooby: "I totally agree. Thank God I have a boyfriend who actually said to me 'Now don't you go getting TOO skinny.'"
Flik: "Oh my God. Can I make out with him later?"
Scooby: "Absolutely. And he's got a good one too."
And we both make the yummy noises with the thought of a "good one."
So tonight, as I sit here unashamed in my gluttony with my full-on fatty microwave popcorn, Almond Roca and honey roasted peanuts, I'm making my yummy noises. Gluttony can't REALLY be a sin, can it?
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
The Lies That Bind
It's been a long time since I blogged...for no particular reason really. One day early on, a loyal reader asked what I'd do if I the day ever came when I didn't have anything to write about. I scoffed at the absurdity of the comment. I always have something to say so why wouldn't I have something to blog? From that moment, the curse was on. I had NOTHING to write about. However, my loyal and dedicated readers are begging...so here I am opening my life to all y'all (that's plural for 'all of you', in case you're not from the south!).
The story of us: KC and I "met" online in November 2004. I don't remember the specific date. Neither of us planned to meet or to develop any sort of connection. We talked frequently, sometimes for hours and hours. We covered every imagineable subject. Even those that are usually controversial such as politics, religion, money, etc. We talked about our childhoods, which were remarkably similar, and our futures. We seemed to have everything in common. Our desires for our futures were identical. KC was intelligent, witty and funny.....and he GOT my sense of humor. Such a rarity!
We met in person in December and had a wonderful day together. We met for a second time just before Christmas and had an amazing weekend together. The sex was wonderful and I finally felt safe and completely comfortable with a man. I was comfortable being completely naked with this man...even in daylight!!! Then the bomb dropped. When KC got home from our incredible weekend, he told me that he had lied to me. Not about one thing. Not about two things. About everything. EVERYTHING! He confessed all his lies and asked for my forgiveness. Weeks went by and I punished him with every ounce of anger and resentment that I had in me. I insulted him, berated him and ignored him....over and over and over again. KC continued to humble himself before me hoping and waiting for my forgiveness, which was NOT quick in coming. He opened his life to me completely so that he might show me that the truth was really the truth. He sacrificed his own pride so that I might find it in my heart to look past the bad decisions he made and into the heart of a truly good man.
In the middle of this, I met another man whom we'll refer to as "Chicago." Chicago was good fun. He was completely different than KC and at that time I found that incredibly attractive. I didn't want to be reminded of the man who, as far as I was concerned, had betrayed and deceived me. I turned to Chicago for attention and affection and I slept with him one time.
Chicago and I continued to talk after this, although nothing more than friendship developed. I cared for him and I believe he cared for me, but not in a romantic way. There were no options in that regard. My thoughts always turned back to KC who remained a daily part of my life...albeit an unpleasant one a lot of times. Chicago knew about KC and eventually KC knew about Chicago too.
Forgiveness was slow in coming for me, but it finally came. In March 2005 KC and I started trying to repair the damage and entered a committed relationship with each other.
During all this, I lied to KC about Chicago. I told him that we'd never slept together. I perpetuated this lie for months...even after KC and I finally started repairing our relationship. I perpetuated the lie even when I was directly asked about Chicago by KC. I lied and I lied and I lied to protect myself; all under the guise of protecting KC. The pressure became too much and I confessed to KC what had really happened. Always the selfish girl, it was such a relief to get my dirty little secret out in the open. KC was absolutely FURIOUS. He wanted nothing to do with me. He didn't want to know me, talk to me, or to see me ever again. I felt like I was dead to him.
Fortunately, KC reconsidered quickly and took me back. He forgave me much more quickly than I did him although the thought of me having sex with another man haunts KC even today. In some strange twist, our lies have brought KC and I closer together. Each of us is fully aware of why we lied (whether the reason was good or not) and we recognize the effort it took for us to come clean with each other. We understand how it feels to be lied to and betrayed in every way. We understand how hard it is to forgive and what an awesome gift it is to be forgiven. KC and I become stronger as we continue to forgive each other. We are strengthened and encouraged to forgive when we are granted forgiveness.
As humans, we really do hurt the ones we love the most. Before the lies were confessed, our lies restricted us, stifled us, made us feel guilty and drove us insane. Now, with full honesty, our lies bring us together and unite us in common understanding and in the comfort and joy of forgiveness.
Love is tough. Sometimes love DOES require the choice to stay to together and to actually TRY to make things work. I'm the queen of running away when things get difficult. I'm finally reaping the rewards of staying. I thank God that sometimes I get smart by being stupid.
I love you, KC. I can't wait for niglets.
To my friends who already knew all this, and who forgave KC too, I love you too.
The story of us: KC and I "met" online in November 2004. I don't remember the specific date. Neither of us planned to meet or to develop any sort of connection. We talked frequently, sometimes for hours and hours. We covered every imagineable subject. Even those that are usually controversial such as politics, religion, money, etc. We talked about our childhoods, which were remarkably similar, and our futures. We seemed to have everything in common. Our desires for our futures were identical. KC was intelligent, witty and funny.....and he GOT my sense of humor. Such a rarity!
We met in person in December and had a wonderful day together. We met for a second time just before Christmas and had an amazing weekend together. The sex was wonderful and I finally felt safe and completely comfortable with a man. I was comfortable being completely naked with this man...even in daylight!!! Then the bomb dropped. When KC got home from our incredible weekend, he told me that he had lied to me. Not about one thing. Not about two things. About everything. EVERYTHING! He confessed all his lies and asked for my forgiveness. Weeks went by and I punished him with every ounce of anger and resentment that I had in me. I insulted him, berated him and ignored him....over and over and over again. KC continued to humble himself before me hoping and waiting for my forgiveness, which was NOT quick in coming. He opened his life to me completely so that he might show me that the truth was really the truth. He sacrificed his own pride so that I might find it in my heart to look past the bad decisions he made and into the heart of a truly good man.
In the middle of this, I met another man whom we'll refer to as "Chicago." Chicago was good fun. He was completely different than KC and at that time I found that incredibly attractive. I didn't want to be reminded of the man who, as far as I was concerned, had betrayed and deceived me. I turned to Chicago for attention and affection and I slept with him one time.
Chicago and I continued to talk after this, although nothing more than friendship developed. I cared for him and I believe he cared for me, but not in a romantic way. There were no options in that regard. My thoughts always turned back to KC who remained a daily part of my life...albeit an unpleasant one a lot of times. Chicago knew about KC and eventually KC knew about Chicago too.
Forgiveness was slow in coming for me, but it finally came. In March 2005 KC and I started trying to repair the damage and entered a committed relationship with each other.
During all this, I lied to KC about Chicago. I told him that we'd never slept together. I perpetuated this lie for months...even after KC and I finally started repairing our relationship. I perpetuated the lie even when I was directly asked about Chicago by KC. I lied and I lied and I lied to protect myself; all under the guise of protecting KC. The pressure became too much and I confessed to KC what had really happened. Always the selfish girl, it was such a relief to get my dirty little secret out in the open. KC was absolutely FURIOUS. He wanted nothing to do with me. He didn't want to know me, talk to me, or to see me ever again. I felt like I was dead to him.
Fortunately, KC reconsidered quickly and took me back. He forgave me much more quickly than I did him although the thought of me having sex with another man haunts KC even today. In some strange twist, our lies have brought KC and I closer together. Each of us is fully aware of why we lied (whether the reason was good or not) and we recognize the effort it took for us to come clean with each other. We understand how it feels to be lied to and betrayed in every way. We understand how hard it is to forgive and what an awesome gift it is to be forgiven. KC and I become stronger as we continue to forgive each other. We are strengthened and encouraged to forgive when we are granted forgiveness.
As humans, we really do hurt the ones we love the most. Before the lies were confessed, our lies restricted us, stifled us, made us feel guilty and drove us insane. Now, with full honesty, our lies bring us together and unite us in common understanding and in the comfort and joy of forgiveness.
Love is tough. Sometimes love DOES require the choice to stay to together and to actually TRY to make things work. I'm the queen of running away when things get difficult. I'm finally reaping the rewards of staying. I thank God that sometimes I get smart by being stupid.
I love you, KC. I can't wait for niglets.
To my friends who already knew all this, and who forgave KC too, I love you too.
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