Twas Brillig

SOS, Gentle Readers! And continuing the Ben saga…

(Ben one, Ben two)

Well, as it turned out, this girl that he went running after was just some girl. Some girl who had gotten engaged to “the love of her life” only to have Ben talk her OUT of marrying the guy, and giving her great reason to believe that Ben was wanting her to pursue a relationship with him.

And, bit by bit, girl by girl, all sorts of secrets began to unravel. Girls everywhere thought that they were in a relationship with Ben. It was all very strange for me, because Ben knew me inside and out. He knew that I was an incurable “player” and he knew with whom I was… playing. But I didn’t know about any of these girls. Not one. Not until they were plotting my homicide, anyway. In fact, as it turned out, I didn’t really know him at all!

Now, I’ve called myself a player, but it should be explained that I was very careful with people’s feelings. I wasn’t interested in hurting anyone or messing with their minds. Ben, on the other hand, seemed to love the power and the control that he had over all these girls who thought that they were going to marry him. He thrived on their broken hearts. It was so. messed. up. And I was no longer interested in being a part of it.

So I pulled myself out of his wicked little game and I moved on with my life. And at approximately the same moment, Ben met and began dating a girl named Rebeckah who was as vicious and wicked as he was, if not more so, and while I despised her, I think I enjoyed watching her beat him at his game. He became a lovesick moron. But his world was about to be shattered.

I, on the other hand, began spending more time with Jay (who, as you may recall, was a “friend with benefits”–but not in a “dirty little secret” way, but in a very open, “Hi, this is Jay and sometimes we make-out” kind of way) including some actual DATES–I know! What’s up with that? Anyway, Jay was over at my apartment one night and we were playing some card game. Jay went into the kitchen to grab something and just then my door flew open. (I had a perfectly functional doorbell—why didn’t anyone ever use it?)

“You can’t be here, Ben! I’m on a date!”

Jay came back into the room while Ben was still standing in the doorway. They did that ancient-head-nod-ritual-thing that boys do to say “hi, how are you, nice to meet you” and Jay sat down. At which point Ben also sat—in between me and Jay. I think I dropped my jaw and gawked at such a gesture and Ben looked at me as if to say, “I’m up for this challenge.”

Arrogant.

Pig-headed.

Conniving.

Manipulative.

And impossibly sexy.

Join us next time for our grand finale… and my wedding.

———————–

Are you playing SOS too? Thuper. Here’s a Mr. Linky—add your permalink after your post is up and you’ve linked it back to me and to Kate. (Wanna play too, but aren’t sure how? See the list of rules below the Mr. Linky.) Also! Be thinking about your worst gynecologist encounter for the “Behind the Stir-ups” extravaganza happening this Thursday here and at Butrfly’s place (more info here)—it is going to be one CRAZY party!

For those of you new to the SOS scene, here’s a rundown of the rules:

1. Anyone can play SOS–the more the merrier.

2. The story can be about ANYTHING–typically, they are about past romances, but they don’t have to be. Think melodrama. Happy, silly, funny, or serious, sad, painful. It’s all good.

3. Generally the stories are TRUE stories. If yours is NOT a true story, but an exercise in creative writing, that’s fine. Just be sure you let us know it’s not true. We don’t want people calling the cops on your ex or anything…

4. Keep it clean. I don’t mean it has to be rated G. But if your writing typically uses phrases like “throbbing member” then this probably isn’t the game for you. Kate and I, your SOS hosts, reserve the right to delete your link if your subject material is too racy. So aim for the DRAMA of the story, rather than the, uh, gruesome details.

5. This one isn’t a rule, but it’s good Karma. Go around and read the other participants’ stories and leave them comments. This will help everyone have a good SOS experience, and it will increase your own traffic. Obviously, life gets in the way, or sometimes a certain post just doesn’t speak to you, and that’s okay. As I said, this isn’t a rule.

Okay, three things you should know about.

1.  On THURSDAY, October 4th, you want to be here and at Butrfly’s place.  See, Butrfly and I got to talking the other day, a conversation spawned by this post of hers, and we realized that every woman who has ever had to deal with an OB/GYN has had some kind of horrible, or at least bizarre, experience.  So, thought we, wouldn’t it be fun to have a big carnival of gyno-bashing!  We’re calling it “From Behind the Stir-ups– Your worst OB/GYN story”.  So, get thinking and writing now.  On Thurs. Oct 4, she and I will both post and provide a Mr. Linky so that you can add your link to the party (and it would be lovely if you were to link back to us in that post so that your readers can find the list of all the participants).  Spread the word around.  This promises to be hilarious and cathartic!  It’s not a competition—so don’t let fear of your story not being the funniest or the awfullest keep you from playing along.  We want EVERYONE’s worst tale!  And I KNOW you have a story to contribute.

2.  Cre8buzz.  Yes, I KNOW you’re sick of hearing about this from me, but here’s the thing:  This site has been in Beta, but they are going public on OCTOBER 7.  Which means that they are going to be HUGE very soon!  So, I recommend that if you have not already joined Cre8buzz, that you do so now by clicking here.  That will get you in BEFORE they go public, meaning that you’ll already be in prime position when they do go public, meaning more exposure for you and your blog.  So get on it, peeps!

3.  Guzzling a large bottle of V8 and then, post-guzzle, realizing that it was rancid results in… well… bowel issues.  Just trust me on this one, okay?

And with that, I bid you adieu.

Wordless Wednesday

Soap Opera Sunday and Ben Part 2 (part one is here)!

The first time Ben kissed me, I was completely and totally shocked. We were friends—granted, we were the kind of friends to snuggle up on a couch together with our arms around each other and LOOK romantic to outsiders. But still. Friends. Nothing more. I never ever saw that kiss coming.

It’s not that I hadn’t started to feel “that way” about him, but I was in denial about it. My roommates and friends would tease us and I would roll my eyes and remind them that he was way younger than I was and that I was NOT interested, etc. They all found it impossible to believe, of course. How could I be snuggled up late at night with a boy who looked like THAT and not feel something?

And, of course, they were right. But I would never admit it.

So, suddenly I find myself making out with him on someone’s couch (I don’t even remember where we were—some movie party with a bunch of people, but it was dark enough that no one knew what was going on over at our couch. Hahaha), trying to silence the voices in my head that were screaming “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”.

The movie ended, the lights came up, Ben and I acted as though nothing had ever happened. That night, as usual, I was interrogated by my roommates. Somehow I still couldn’t admit that anything had happened between us, so I lied. I felt horribly guilty about it—like by denying it all I was saying that he wasn’t good enough or whatever. I was so afraid that he would be so hurt.

Pretty soon, though, it became abundantly clear that he was denying it too. I wasn’t clear on his motivation, and I really didn’t care. He was my dirty little secret, and he wouldn’t ruin that secret for me.

And we kept up our dirty little secret, meeting in strange places at strange hours.

One night, while we were making out in the front room of my darkened apartment, the front door flew open and a girl I knew from my Astronomy class charged in.

“They were right!!! They were right!!! Everyone’s been trying to tell me that you two were together, but I refused to believe it! I’m gonna KILL you, Brillig, and castrate you, Ben!!!”

I sat up and said in a completely calm voice, “Ben? Why is there a strange woman in my apartment, screaming that she’s going to kill me and castrate you?”

“Oh, like you don’t KNOW!” she shrieked, and stormed out.

Ben sat quietly for a minute, and then got up and ran after her.

Join us next week, when we hear Brillig say, “you can’t be here, Ben. I’m on a date!”

——————————————–

Your turn! (See a rundown of the rules below the Mr. Linky.) Remember to add your Soap Opera Sunday link once your post is up, and remember to link back to me and Kate. Can’t wait to see what y’all got for us this week!

For those of you new to the SOS scene, here’s a rundown of the rules:

1. Anyone can play SOS–the more the merrier.

2. The story can be about ANYTHING–typically, they are about past romances, but they don’t have to be. Think melodrama. Happy, silly, funny, or serious, sad, painful. It’s all good.

3. Generally the stories are TRUE stories. If yours is NOT a true story, but an exercise in creative writing, that’s fine. Just be sure you let us know it’s not true. We don’t want people calling the cops on your ex or anything…

4. Keep it clean. I don’t mean it has to be rated G. But if your writing typically uses phrases like “throbbing member” then this probably isn’t the game for you. Kate and I, your SOS hosts, reserve the right to delete your link if your subject material is too racy. So aim for the DRAMA of the story, rather than the, uh, gruesome details.

5. This one isn’t a rule, but it’s good Karma. Go around and read the other participants’ stories and leave them comments. This will help everyone have a good SOS experience, and it will increase your own traffic. Obviously, life gets in the way, or sometimes a certain post just doesn’t speak to you, and that’s okay. As I said, this isn’t a rule.

Sometimes, motherhood gets in the way of blogging.

I KNOW! Where are my priorities?

Fuzzles has been sick all week. There has been very little sleep around here, thanks to his sickies. I’m so used to running on very little sleep and I thought I was numb to exhaustion now. But this? It nearly pushed me over the edge.

So, after I was already on the verge of total collapse, Scooby screamed all day yesterday, and all night last night. I am not exaggerating here. ALL NIGHT. This morning I took him to the doc and we learned that his eardrum. had. exploded. The doc kept saying to me, “I cannot overstate the pain he is in right now.” Ooooooh, my poor baby!

He’ll be fine soon. Tonight his fever is nearly at 104 (40 C) and he’s not exactly happy, but he’s not screaming his brains out. And he’s on quite the prescription regimen–part of which requires him to sit completely still for 15 minutes twice a day. HAHAHAHAHA! Have you ever MET a two year old? THEY DO NOT SIT STILL! So, yeah. That’s fun.

Hubby and I are total zombies right now. He took the midnight to three a.m. shift last night, and then I took the 3-6 shift. And he stayed home from work so that thing wouldn’t be quite so crazy for me– I could run all the kids to all their various locations (preschool, kindergarten, doc. appts, etc.) without having to take everyone with me every time, letting the babies take their full naps, etc. THEN he arranged for ME to take a delicious nap this afternoon, even though he too is running on almost no sleep. And then? He. made. dinner. He’s really too good to me. I think I would have DIED today without him. He’s going away on business next week for the whole week, so I think he’s trying to give me as much of a break now, since chances of my keeping any semblance of sanity next week are… um… nil.

Anyway, thanks to all of you who’ve been wondering where I’ve been and emailing me and IMing me to make sure I’m still alive. As it turns out, I am. I think. There are 603 UNREAD posts in my google reader right now.  Those are just the ones I haven’t read.  Then there’s a massive list of ones that I HAVE read, but never commented on.  I seriously don’t know why any of you continue to tolerate me.  Some of you… well… don’t.  And I don’t blame you!

I’m sitting here typing, wondering if any of this is coherent…

Stay tuned for Soap Opera Sunday this weekend. We’re likely to have a lot of new people on board!!!

Love you all! Cross your fingers (or “hold fists”, as my Dear Jenn would say) that the babies sleep tonight, and that their parents do too.

*smoochies*

–Brillypooperscooper

And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy

Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns…

—William Wordsworth: Tintern Abbey

(click it to big it)

Wordless Wednesday

So, I was at Goldy’s site the other day (which is not rare—I’m there pretty much every day—aren’t you?  If not, go.  Partake.  Enjoy) and he had his results of a “how evil are you?” quiz. Now, I should tell you that I adore Goldy. He’s witty, insightful, and highly entertaining. And he seems to be a pretty good guy, but “angelic”? Well, I probably wouldn’t exactly use that word to describe him. So, when he posted his results—that he is 54% evil—I thought it was probably pretty accurate. And I thought, hmmmm, I’ll play along too. So, you can imagine my shock when my results were this:

You Are 72% Evil

You are very evil. And you’re too evil to care.Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

How Evil Are You?

WHAAAT??? Little ol’ me? Little ol’ angelic Brillig??? FORMER MISSIONARY, HONEST, CHURCH-GOING, SCRIPTURE-READING, UBER-RIGHTEOUS BRILLIG???

Sigh.

Goldy’s response to my score was, “Aren’t you Mormon? And you are that evil… I think there is a joke there somewhere.” Yes, Goldy. I think there must be.

(And, oddly enough, I bear a striking resemblance to the girl in the picture there.  It must be the hair.  And the huge eyes.)

So, how evil are you?

And, in other news, Nic from 60 Piggies tagged me for a meme.  And yes, for those of you who remember that I’ve sworn off meme’s, I generally don’t respond to tags.  Still, since I was the ONLY person she tagged (rather than one in a list of 12 or whatever), and she was just so frickin’ brackin’ sweet about it that, crap, I found myself agreeing.  But I’m going to put a little spin on this one.

It’s the “middle name” meme, doncha know.  And so, while I’m greatly hesitant to put my first name on my blog (not because it’s some great big secret–if you’ve been paying any attention here at all, you’ve figured it out, either because I’ve slipped up and used it or because someone else has in the comments– no, but because it’s painfully boring and demure, and also because I enjoy the mystery of it all) but I will now divulge my middle name.  (Drumroll please…)

Catherine.  Yup.  Catherine.  Saint Catherine?  Sure.  Catherine of Aragon?  Well, if you must.  Catherine the Great?  Naturally.

And there’s a story behind it, of course, because this wouldn’t be Twas Brillig if there weren’t.  Two years before I was born, my mother had a dream—a vision, if you will—that she would have a baby girl who she must name Catherine.  She was positive that this dream was a revelation of sorts and when she discovered that she was pregnant, she knew I was that baby she had dreamed about.  I’m not sure at what point she and my dad decided that Catherine would be a middle name, rather than my first, and while I understand their reasons for this (which I can’t exactly explain here) I have always been a bit disappointed in them.  I mean, if in the eternal cosmos my name was supposed to be Catherine, isn’t it strange that they tucked it away as a middle name?

Yes, it’s all very mysterious, isn’t it?  And I swear upon all that is holy that it’s a completely true story.  However, none of this has anything to do with this meme.

The point of the meme is that every letter of my middle name is supposed to reveal something about me.  I was a bit stumped as to just what I should say, so Hubby came up with this:

C=conceited

A=arrogant

T=tricky

H=hot-headed

E=egotistical

R=ridiculous

I=impossible

N=narcissistic

E=egocentric

Hahahaha.  Yup.  That’s my sweety.  He’s so lucky to have me.  Hahaha.  Rest assured that I smacked him for this and then he grabbed my hand and kissed it… and then my neck… and then my lips…. and then… well… let’s just say he …. uh… made it up to me.

*AHEM*

But, really.  I’m having a hard time coming up with anything that you don’t already know about me.  So, instead, I’ve decided to list 9 blogs that I think you should be reading.  Here goes:

C=Confessions of a Former Bookworm–Cherann is funny, endearing, delightful.  A must-read.

A=Amy from ButrflyGarden.  Amy was the first person who I didn’t know in “real life” to ever comment on my blog. And we’ve been fast friends ever since.  Half of my internet friends (including the aforementioned Goldy and Cherann) I met through her!  She’s an integral piece to my blogworld and I absolutely adore her.

T=Theory of Thought.  The girl who writes this blog is only 17 years old.  She’s the only teenager I read, as far as I know, and you’d be absolutely amazed at her depth and insight and poignancy.  She has quite the following, for good reason.  She’s destined for greatness and I’m proud to be her e-friend.

H=Heather from Magically Mama.  Heather is a (former) Doula and Birthing From Within instructor—you see why I felt an immediate connection with her.  For now, though, she’s put those things on the backburner and is going by the title of Renaissance Woman, a title that suits her beautifully.

E=Elizabeth from Table For Five.  When I had my great blog meltdown a couple months back, Elisabeth, who was just surfing through, read about my plight and came to my rescue.  Her blog is fantastic (and she actually makes money off it, as opposed to what I do, which is make jack-crappity-crip-crap off mine).  She’s a true Good Samaritan and I’m glad we e-met.

R=Rebecca James.  Rebecca is an Australian novelist.  She is fun and funny and friendly and very genuine.  I’m not sure how she ended up at my blog way back when, but I’m glad she did.  I’ve been stalking her ever since.  Hers is truly an outstanding blog.

I=Is There a Doctor in the House?  Carrie is hilarious, kind, and wonderful.  When I read her blog, I just want to go and hang out with her.

N=Never What You Think It Should Be.  “WhiskeyMarie”, as she calls herself, is hands down the funniest blog I’ve read—funnier than the blogs who are paid to be funny.  She just has a way of wording things that’s so ridiculously clever that you wish you’d thought of it, but really you never would have because, try as you might, you just aren’t that funny.  But she is.  This is a woman who I see as a rising star in bloglandia—the next Dooce, except, you know, funnier and more tolerable.

E= Emma Sometimes.  Surely you all know by now how I feel about Ems.  She is so frickin’ brackin’ funny, along with being profound and insightful.  Every time I read a post of hers I find myself laughing and learning something simultaneously.  Great stuff.

And I now tag…  ALL OF YOU!  Go check out all 11 of the blogs I’ve just recommended.  It’s well-worth the little effort it will require.

And now, my meme days are OVER.  FOR REAL!!!! 

(I hadn’t intended for this to turn into a saga ala Chad, but as I started writing it, there was just too much for one post.  So it’ll take two, maybe three…)

When I first met him, Ben (which is not his name, honest) struck me as cute.  Very cute.  Too young for me, but very cute.  Cute enough that I immediately thought, “I should set him up with Kate (who is nearly three years my junior)!”

Praise indeed.

Now, it’s not that I was old, exactly.  I was 21.  But he was 18, almost 19.  I had served a mission, he had not.  Somehow that made it seem like there were lightyears between us.

But, oh, did I mention that he was cute?

In no time at all, something between us just clicked and we were inseparable—but not in a romantic way, or anything.  He became my friend—a confidant, in fact.  He was witness to the whole Todd debacle, a shoulder to cry on when Scott (a future SOS) ripped my heart out and barbecued it for dinner, thoroughly briefed on my obsession with a boy named Jason, and aware of my on-going “friends with benefits” arrangement with Jay.  But no matter who was coming into or going out of my life, Ben was always there.

As I said, every girl adored Ben.  My friend Liz was particularly infatuated with him.  Of course I told him.  He seemed pleased enough to hear it, though he didn’t do anything about it.  “You like her, right?  Why aren’t you going after her?”

“Because,” he smiled—all twinkly and charming, as was his way.  “There’s someone else!”

“Whaaaaat????”  I screeched.  “Who?  Who?  Why haven’t I heard anything about this?”

“Cuz I’m not ready to tell you about it,” he said, again with that smile.  “Plus, there’s not much to tell just yet.  I promise that if something happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

I used every trick in my book (and, believe me, I was QUITE resourceful) to coerce him to tell me, but it didn’t work.

It would take me months to clue in that the girl he was talking about was me.

Stay tuned for next time when we hear Brillig say, “Ben? Why is there a strange woman in my apartment, screaming that she’s going to kill me and castrate you?” 

———————-

Are you playing Soap Opera Sunday too?  Here’s a Mr. Linky. You know what to do. (Do YOU wanna play too? Great! Everyone’s invited! Check here for rules.)  Remember to add your permalink to the Mr. Linky AFTER your post is already up and you’ve linked back to me and Kate. Woohoo! Happy SOS everyone!

(With a title like that, didn’t you just KNOW that there had to be a song to go with it?)

It’s a Flashback Friday, friends!

So… once upon a time, Matt and I went on a road trip. Okay, we went on lots of road trips. For this particular one, we were headed to Los Angeles (from Salt Lake City) on I-15. I was 18, he was 19. I had just been thrown out of BYU and he had just come out of the closet once and for all. He We had too much money and absolutely no sense of responsibility.

At some point, we pulled over–along that narrow, terrifying little piece of I-15 in Arizona. Matt handed me a Farrah Fawcett wig, which we just happened to have brought with us, of course, and a shiny satin dress with sparkly tights. I’m sure that the conversation went something like this:

Matt: Hey, put these on and then pretend to hitch-hike when truckers drive by. It’ll be awesome.

Brillig: Okay [as I proceeded to rip off what I’d had on and don my new wardrobe].

Really, it didn’t take much effort on his part to convince me to play along with his crazy games. And wow! Aren’t I fantastic?

(Some of you got a sneak peak of this pic at Cre8buzz–see? One more reason to join!)

Alas, our friend Matt doesn’t know how to scan pictures–even though his sugar daddy partner has a scanner– so this is a photo that he took of a photo. (And I tell ya what, somewhere between the camera, the picture, the picture of the picture, the emailing and the uploading, my boobs were lost. Seriously!!! Don’t I look like a little boy in drag? Hahaha. I SWEAR I wasn’t that flat…)

Ahem!

Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that no one actually stopped for me. Rude, right? Good thing… I don’t think we actually had a plan for what to do if someone HAD stopped.

That whole trip was one of the craziest of my entire life. From Vegas to LA to the cruise ship we then boarded and took to Mexico, it was non-stop Flashback Friday/Soap Opera Sunday material. We will undoubtedly be revisiting this story at some point.

Happy Flashback Friday, all!

I’m tired.  I’m melancholy.  It’s been a hard week.

And nobody’s here.  Tap*tap*tap!  Is this blog on?  Everyone’s traffic has slowed way down, not just mine, so I’m trying not to take it too personally!  Between school, new routines, sleepless nights, and sick children, I’m not really getting around to my blog rounds and my cre8buzz stuff lately.  I can hardly blame people for not coming to my place!

I think we’re all tired.  Perhaps melancholy.  And we’ve all had a hard week.

Let’s all go eat some chocolate.

Loves and kisses all around.