Cue The Ohio Players

This last 24 hours has been an adreneline roller coaster.  I’m about spent.

First, let me update you on the situation with Trillian.  She’s serving an in-school suspension today, along with three of her peers.  The three of them took a fourth girl, held her hands behind her back, covered her mouth, and punched her.  It gets worse. 

This is apparently an extreme extension of a clique.  The fourth girl (the victim), was a member of this “club”, but apparently let others in on it.  This girl is Trillian’s BFF, they are normally inseperable.  This was basically a mafia-style beatdown.  I’ve gotten the “it was supposed to be a joke” excuse, and I don’t doubt it, but Trillian needs to learn that such things are not joking matters.  As the principal told her, if this was high school, she’d be in jail now.

I’ve given her the clique lesson before, but obviously it didn’t stick.  I’ll let a few days pass, then I’m going to have a long talk with her to let her know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of bullying. She and her friends are good kids, but this was a very, very poor choice.  I’m hoping the lesson will be learned.  The BFF’s parents are good friends with us, weve already talked and everything is fine between us.  It would appear that everything is OK between BFF and Trilian, and that’s a good thing.

Now onto happier matters.

Last night at the Wildhorse was an incredible experience.  It’s the largest stage I’ve ever been on.  I was pleased to learn that Ginger was able to make it.  Ginger, or at least her camera, took the most amazing photo of us on the stage.  I hope she posts it soon.  We kicked butt, although we didn’t win any prizes.  I had a HUGE stage to act a fool on, and I did my best middle aged David Lee Roth impression.  The musicians and singers were incredible;  it might be the most energy we’ve ever displayed on stage.  I’ll tell you more when I’ve recovered – it was that much of a rush.

Finally, over at my other place, I was contacted by a major magazine about an upcoming cover story, and given a scoop!  It’s quite a lot of fun when you’re actually taken seriously by real journalists.  Yes, I know it’s part of their marketing plan, but it also helped me immensely.

Like I said, this has been quite a rollercoaster.  I need a nap.

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This Day Had Better Get Better

Call from school principal…

Kid involved in violence and bullying.  Victim was kid’s best friend.

In-school suspension.  Have to leave work to go to meeting with principal in a few minutes.

And it’s my “good” one…

I am totally at a loss for words.

Y’all pray for her.  I’m so mad I could spit.

Signature Required

Ugh.  This is so frustrating.  I’ve been so looking forward to the delivery of my new cell phones and broadband card.

I look at the tracking on FedEX’s site, and it says, basically, that delivery failed because a signature was required, and I wasn’t home.  Dang it!

How is it that when I order from Omaha Steaks, they’ll leave over $200 worth of meat on my porch, but they won’t leave a $100 cell phone order?

(Oh, and if you’re wandering around my neighborhood on meat delivery day, and you try to take my meat, I’ll throw my old cell phone at you!)

It’s Never Easy

Y’all give your prayers and good thoughts for my friend and frequent STM commentor Warrior, and his wife.  They lost their longtime companion, their dog Bo.  He had been sick for some time, and lately seizures were coming more frequently.  He was suffering horribly, so they had to have him put down.

Yes, Bo was an old dog (15 years); yes, he had been very ill.  But losing such an intregal part of your family as Bo was to Warrior’s is always rough.  I know that they both loved their friend and companion deeply.

Please keep them in your prayers.

So That’s Why

*FRANK DISCUSSION ALERT* 

I’ve always known I was different.  From a very young age, I was into things that my brothers and friends were not.  I was definitely a “mama’s boy”.  I was my dad’s “weird one”.  Even in preschool, it seemed like I was addicted to melodrama, and flamboyance, and over-the-top, flowery language.  I was manic, as well.

No, this isn’t a “coming out” post.

In fact, I was “different” from the boys who grew up to be gay, too.  I was totally clueless in matters of dress, and socially inept, and I loved toy cars, toy guns, and playing sports.  When puberty hit, I loved girls, in fact you could say I was girl-crazy.  I had an attraction to females that was almost Clintonesque, and it continues to this day.  It is only through the grace of God that this hasn’t gotten me into trouble.

So, I was pretty much just plain different from everybody.  I had no explanation for this, I just accepted that I was “weird”.  Then, when I was 16 or 17, I was playing backyard football when I collided with my brother, and he fell on top of my upraised head, snapping my neck back.

This caused the most intense, prolonged pain I have ever felt in my life.  We found out later at the emergency room that I had bruised my spinal cord.  I was sent to my doctor for follow up visits.  The x-rays we took that day revealed something I had never known.  Most of you reading this have little, tiny bones in your neck, wrists, and ankles.  I do not – they are fused together, and it has been that way since birth.  It is a miracle that I survived the football mishap; my neck doesn’t bend like yours, and is much more easily broken.

We found other weird things, like the fact that one of my thumbs has no working nerves in it, causing it to have no muscle at all.  It’s a small thing, but once you know it’s there, you become self-conscious about it.  My ankles and wrists can go through periods of intense pain, if I hit or turn them wrong.  Then, there’s that other stuff. 

We’ll get to that in a minute.

I just assumed that all of this was just additional weirdness added to the weirdness of my behavior, likes, and dislikes.  Then, one day, my wife and I were in the waiting room of an auto repair shop, and came across an article about DES, and how they were just finding out that it affected sons as well as daughters.  First, a little background:

DES (diethylstilbestrol) was the first synthetic estrogen to be created (1938).  Years later, Sir E. Charles Dodds was knighted for his accomplishment. Never patented, DES was marketed using hundreds of brand names in the mistaken belief it prevented miscarriages and premature deliveries.

DES was prescribed between 1938 and 1971 (but not limited to those years). It was considered the standard of care for problem pregnancies from the late 1940s well into the 1960s in the U.S. and was widely prescribed during that time. DES was sometimes even included in prenatal vitamins so there are many individuals who were not actually prescribed DES but were exposed to it anyway.

Anyway, what got our attention was the description of symptoms of “DES Sons”.  They were almost exactly a match for “that other stuff”.  Go here to read them – I have almost all of them (except the microphallus one – and I ain’t just sayin’ that – my wife has no complaints)

🙂

Then, there is this.  Or, as Wikipedia descibes it:

Diethylstilbestrol can also cause feminisation of the male foetus, as DES undergoes metabolic epoxidation, and the epoxide product has affinity towards the estrogen receptors.

Now, Rachel can explain what all the big words mean, but I get the gist, and in reading that I finally had some answers. Especially after I talked to my mother, and found out that yes, indeed she was given “something” (she didn’t remember what) to prevent miscarriage when she was pregnant with me.

The science is not decided on this yet, but I am.  Half the time, I “relate” in a traditionally male manner, the other half, in a more female manner.  I can “tennis” talk.  I seem to have a more “caring and nurturing” nature than most men.  You can even get me excited about shopping for clothes, if you catch me on the right day.  I weep at Pampers commercials.  Yet, I’m capable of male “parallel play”.  I’ve had my share of conversations with women’s chests.  I like hitting things.  I like football.

When I was a teen, about 50% of my, ahem, “fantasies”, were purely romantic in nature, instead of sexual.  It didn’t know how weird this was until I got older and learned what is “normal”.  I am an incurable romantic, though.

It’s almost as if I had an equilibrium of estrogen and testosterone, don’t you think?

So anyway – that’s why, to many females, including my wife, I’m like “the gay friend” who is still a heterosexual.  I once had a female workout partner who told her husband he didn’t have to worry about her working out with me, because I “wasn’t like other men”.  This actually hurt my feelings a little, although I knew what she meant.  It’s interesting, and I’m honored to be looked at in that way.  It sucked when I was single, though.

I hope my mother never, ever feels guilty for my “birth defects”.  I have lived an incredible life, and I’ve had many friendships many males cannot have because they do not “speak female”.  After many years, I now accept and embrace my own weirdness.

Such A Tease

I know, I know.  In this thread at MCB, I promised a post about what it’s like being a male DES baby.  And, I swear I will, hopefully today.  But there are two factors that are keeping me from completing that right now:

1) Today culminates the craziest two weeks in my professional history.  We’re finishing up a prototype of an application others said couldn’t be done in the time we were given, and later this morning,  I take the 3rd and final exam in my quest to become a Microsoft Certified Application Developer.  It’s by far the hardest exam of the three, so I have to study with what time I have left.

2) I want to do a little more research.  I can tell you the things about me that are “different”, and I can tell you why I think they were caused by DES injections while my mother was pregnant with me, but for the most part, I’d just be spouting off about stuff I don’t know much about, as usual. 🙂 

So, I swear it’ll be soon, but you’ll have to wait just a little longer to hear about fused bones, infertility, being touchy-feely and heterosexual at the same time, and other oddities.

And of course, tonight I have my usual busy Thursdays (live blogging Ugly Betty, then putting up a full recap before the episode finishes airing in the West).  It’s kind of crazy, but worth it.

My exam is at 10:30.  After I pass 🙂 , and my co-worker passes hers at 1:00, we’re going to “have a meeting” in “Building 5”.  For those of you who don’t know me, the corporate campus where I work has 4 buildings.  “Building 5” is the Outback Steakhouse down the street.  The “conference room” is the bar.

🙂

Another Difference Between 23 and 43

Situation: Your wife chases after you , screaming “I can’t take it anymore!”, with a pair of scissors in her hand.

At 23: This means you said something really stupid, and she’s ticked off to the point of violence.

At 43: This means she can no longer stand to look the strange hair growing in strange places on you.  Eybrows, ears, nose (eeewwww), back; you’ve become a plush rainforest of little hairs.  You’ve become Andy Rooney.

If you’re 23 – run!

If you’re 43, stay still and let the woman groom you.  You’ll both be happier in the end.

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