girls are smarter than you

Evolution of Music

2012-01-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

This morning, I was in the shower listening to the radio and a Rhianna song came on, the one with the line “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excites me”. And I started thinking about the original saying and how much music has changed over the decades.
So I thought a comparison was in order. I looked up the top ten songs from 1971 and the top ten (according to the critics) of 2011 on Billboard.com.
Here are my findings (along with a line or two of the lyrics):

Number 10
1971
Knock Three Times – The Dawn
Lyrics: I can hear the music playing. I can feel your body swaying
2011
Rolling in the Deep - Adele
Lyrics: The scars of your love remind me of us. They keep me thinking that we almost had it all.

Number 9
1971
Just My Imagination Running Away With Me – The Temptations
Lyrics: I hear a tender rhapsody but in reality she doesn’t even know me
2011
Look at me now – Chris Brown featuring Busta Rhymes and Lil’ Wayne
Lyrics: Better cuff your chick if you with her, I can get her. And she accidentally slip and fall on
dick.

Number 8
1971
Take Me Home Country Roads – John Denver
Lyrics: All my memories gathered ‘round her, Miner’s lady, Stranger to blue water
2011
The Edge of Glory – Lady Gaga
Lyrics: I got a reason that you’re who should take me home tonight

Number 7
1971
Go Away Little Girl – Donny Osmond
Lyrics: I know your lips are sweet but our lips must never meet (on a side note, with the title,
These lyrics are a little “sex offenderish”….)
2011
Halocene – Bon Iver
Lyrics: We smoked the screen to make it what it was to be (What?)

Number 6
1971
Indian Reservation – The Raiders
Lyrics: They took the whole Cherokee nation and put us on this reservation, Took away our
ways of life
2011
Novacane – Frank Ocean
Lyrics: I feel like I’m Stanley Kubrick, This is some visionary shit

Number 5
1971
How Can You Mend a Broken Heart – Bee Gees
Lyrics: I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees and misty memories of days
gone by.
2011
Motivation – Kelly Rowland featuring Lil’Wayne
Lyrics: Oh lover, don’t you dare slow down, Go longer, You can last more rounds, Push
harder, You’re almost there now. Make Mama proud.

Number 4
1971
One Bad Apple – The Osmonds
Lyrics: I can tell you’ve been hurt by that look on your face, girl. Some guy brought sad into
your happy world.
2011
Niggas in Paris – JayZ and Kanye
Lyrics – I’m not even bothering

Number 3
1971
It’s Too Late – Carol King
Lyrics: There will be good times again for me and you. But we just can’t stay together. Don’t
you feel it too?
2011
Till the World Ends – Britney Spears
Lyrics: This kitten got your tong tied up in knots I see (That’s the 1st line of the song…)

Number 2
1971
Maggie May – Rod Stewart
Lyrics: The morning sun really shows your age. But that don’t worry me none. In my eyes
you’re everything.
2011
Someone Like You – Adele
Lyrics: Don’t forget me, I begged, I remember you said, sometimes it lasts in love, but
sometimes, it hurts instead

and

Number 1
1971
Joy to the World – Three Dog Night
Lyrics: If I were the king of the world, I tell you what I’d do. I’d throw away the cars and
the bars and the war and make sweet love to you
2011
Super Bass – Nicki Minaj
Lyrics: That’s the kind of dude I was lookin’ for
And yes you’ll get slapped you’re lookin’, ho.

Forty years of evolution in the music business. And that is what we get.

Thank God for Adele. That’s all I have to say about that…..

Silence of the What-What, Wait a Minute...

2012-01-03T10:22:00.000-08:00

When I was a little girl, there was this game that my mom and me would play.

The scene.

Mom and I sitting at a table in the food court at our local mall. While watching people, we would insert our own dialogue to stranger’s conversations that were out of our hearing. It would sometimes be sad, sometimes entertaining, sometimes angry. But it was fun. And original. It made me aware of the many varied lifestyles and issues that could be facing strangers you pass on the street. Maybe it helped me from becoming so self absorbed that I didn’t see what was going on to those around me. Whatever the effects on my personality development, it became habit.

Now, if I’m sitting at a red light and I look over and see someone with an expressive face, I automatically concoct some fictional story to go along with them. Maybe it is some lady putting her mascara on while driving. Maybe she is having an affair with a co-worker…or a crush on her married boss.

Or it could be some really old guy with a trucker’s cap on that says something like “I’m a Winner” and I automatically think of some scenario to make that true. Maybe he won a fishing contest, or the jackpot at his Wednesday night bingo game.

Whatever, you get the picture.

So, the other day, I’m sitting in Lowe’s waiting for some blinds to be cut for my grandmother-in-law’s Christmas present. And I start creating inner dialogue for the few people working there.

The lady cutting the blinds was this short, thick Hispanic woman that looked completely miserable. So every time she would lower the skill saw thingy ma jig, I was internally cursing about how bad this fucking job sucks.

There was another woman, older, looked like she should’ve been retired, up on a ladder restocking some cleaning supplies. So I was thinking that SHE was thinking, “If they only knew that just because I’m old doesn’t mean I know jack shit about Pine Sol, they wouldn’t stick me with this bullshit assignment.”

And then there was a flamboyantly gay man in a blue smock that was heading to the gardening center. “What? Just because I’m gay, do they think I give a shit about flowers?” In my fantasy world, I made him an awesome gamer that kicks everyone’s ass at “Modern Warfare”. (That is a game, isn’t it?)

And I thought, what an awesome movie this would be. A little like “The Office”, but with traces of “The Good Girl” without being all boring and shit. We could create a cast that embodies the characters that we run into every day.

I’m pretty sure that stereotypes exists for a reason. Maybe they are not always, always true, but a high percentage of the time, they are dead on.

We could include a hot steamy affair, one with the barely legal cashier boy and the hard ass manager lady that walks around in heels even though she works in a home improvement warehouse. Who is currently, not to her knowledge, being stalked by the lighting associate….that has a basement similar to the one in “Silence of the Lambs”.

You get the picture.

We could have a romantic comedy/thriller/faux documentary, with even a little bit of Sci-Fi thrown in if we make the forklift driver psychic. It would be epic.

Damn. I missed my calling. I should be writing scripts for Hollywood.

Comedy?

2011-12-30T07:39:00.000-08:00

I think I should write a comedy routine. Seriously. I think I would be good at it. I think I could base it around my favorite movie quotes, then tell a funny story that somehow, half ass relates to each.

Example 1:
Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion:
Michelle: For me, it's like I've just given birth to my own baby girl, except she's like a big giant girl who smokes and says "shit" a lot. You know?

To this, I could light a cigarette and pretend to be Janeane Garofalo by continuously reading over my notes so that I don’t forget my next joke.
And please, don’t misunderstand. I love Janeane. With all of her self doubt and lack of confidence. She is real. She isn’t afraid to show the insecurities that we all struggle with.
But the girl has issues. Fo’ Real.

Example 2:
Urban Cowboy:
Bud: All cowboys ain't dumb. Some of 'em got smarts real good, like me.

To this, I would scratch my imaginary nuts and take a chug of beer. Then I would proceed to mimic the walk from that disco movie Travolta played in. With some Bee Gees music coming on for effect. Then I could talk about the hillbilly ass town I grew up in.

Example 3:
Superstar:
Mary Katherine Gallagher: Oh look at you, my pretty little girl, sitting there with your face all painted up in your little halter top, you're nothing but a little slut.

Then….well, if you know the movie, surely you can guess what would come next. Duh...
Then I could talk about one of my friends from middle school telling me that cum would make your teeth whiter. I could also talk about the fact that I went to her second wedding a few years ago and she was wearing a black spandex dress with camo trimming. While five months pregnant. And getting married in the same venue as her first wedding.

Example 4:
Clueless:
Cher: Christian said he'd call the next day, but in boy time that meant Thursday.

To this, I could go on a rant for all the asshole things that men do. People love hearing a bitter, pissed off woman bitch about men. It’s kind of like that Barry White song. Even if it isn’t your style, there is something in his tone that catches you. I see clouds above…Anyway, historically, pissed off women appeal to people. Look at Alanis Morissette. Since she doesn’t hate anyone anymore, at least not in a “I’m gonna smash your face in” kind of way, she hasn’t made the headlines in years. Unless it was her break up with Ryan Reynolds. Maybe a blip here or there, but for the most part, nada. Or Meredith Brooks. She should sing another song about being a bitch, then she might get some play time.

Example 5:
Wayne’s World
Wayne: I know I don't have his looks. I know I don't have his money. I know I don't have his connections, his knowledge of fine wines. I know sometimes when I eat I get this clicking sound in my jaw...

Then I could bitch about my TMJ.

And lets not forget about sex.

Example 6:
The 40 Year Old Virgin:
Jay: All you got to do is use your instincts. How do you think a lion knows to tackle a gazelle? It's written, it's a code written in his DNA, says, "Tackle the gazelle." And believe it or not, in every man there's a code written that says, "Tackle drunk bitches."

To which I can lead into stories about my girlfriends….and the unspoken girl code that you don’t let one of your friends make a complete ass of herself after she has had too much to drink. I could go into the fact that all women are instinctually programmed to cock block asshole men. Fact.

So, maybe that is my so called “resolution”. I don’t know how much I believe in beginning of the year vows, but we will see how the year turns out.

It would be funny as shit. I could maybe win one of those stand up comedy shows. Except that I think I’m too pretty. Like Debra Lafave was too pretty for prison, I’m too pretty for stand up. I don’t look a damn thing like Rosanne Barr.

Yo' Mom Be Crazy

2011-12-22T06:13:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, when I had my last office job, I was always wanting to miss work. I used to think it was because I couldn’t stand the other assistant I worked with (trust me, she was an enormous asshole). But now that I have this position (which pays waaaayyy better and the work is far more interesting), I actually don’t mind being here. The only time I’ve missed was when I was sick and my boss sent me home and one other time when my mom picked my son up from school and he shit his pants as he was throwing up on the side of the road (He’s was eleven at the time, poor guy).

But today, this last day of work before we get a small break for Christmas, I realize that I have absolutely nothing to occupy me (I’ve already cleaned my office from top to bottom – everyone probably thinks I’m on drugs) and I would still rather be here than home.

That’s sad, right?

Both my boys have turned into pain in the butt men. Or nearly. My oldest son caught my youngest son masturbating the other day and finding a lot of hilarity in the situation, gave me way too many details.

When I left this morning, there were several teenage boys trying to get ready for their day while discussing the attributes of the girls they went out with last night. And all I could think as I went out the door was “Thank God I’ve got a job.”

So then I started wondering….Am I a bad mother?

I know I love my kids. Truly I do. But I don’t really want to be around them a whole lot of the time now. Between the bad attitudes, gross body functions and raunchy conversations that are constantly flowing around me, I would rather sit at my desk at work, staring at a blank screen with my inbox completely empty rather than sit in my house, locked in my bedroom.

This is one of the pitfalls of having kids really young. I was okay with all of the different phases that drove everyone else crazy. The sleepless nights (those really did suck – but were short lived), the terrible twos, the talking threes, the sticking things in body orifices when they were in kindergarten, even the onset of puberty didn’t terrify me. But when your son walks up to you and says he’s in need of condoms, and you’re thirty one years old??? That one kind of throws you.

I have come to the conclusion lately that I’m going through an early mid-life. I know my age is still small, but the fact that my kids are only a few years away from adulthood has propelled me where I never thought I would go. The land of “I’m turning into my mom.” And it is a very dark, scary landscape that I’m currently looking at.

My mom is weird as hell. Love her. But man, she is one crazy ass female.

And as I write this, I pray that in sixteen years, when my boys are in their late twenties, early thirties, they are not able to say that sentence ( ^ that one right up there^) about me. Even if I am a little bat shit crazy.

The Secret Blog

2011-12-12T10:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I have this girlfriend, mid thirties, recently single for the first time since she was a teenager. She has also lost a lot of weight, and has discovered some of the joys of online dating.

Five of us girls went to Key West a few weeks back and let me tell you, she is something else. I told one of the girls there that I was going to write a Saturday Night Live character based on our mutual friend.

Below, I’ve listed some of her characteristics/traits that she has recently acquired.

(I would also like to point out that if she ever sees this, I’m sure I will be short one friend, so this is our little secret.)

Character Outline:

Soccer mom, always wears makeup to kid’s games in case any single, hot dads have sports duty.

Wears inappropriately tight clothing, the better to show off the sisters. Does not believe in t-shirts unless they consist of a deep (very deep) v neckline.

Frequents establishments that men that want to appear to have money hang out, that way she can justify getting married again, hence making her alimony payments stop.

She needs surgery on her broke down knee, but still refuses to wear flats while out ~~picking up men~~ with the girls.

Enjoys dancing and singing ~~badly~~ karaoke, mostly from the days of the hair bands (i.e.: Meat Loaf, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Guns N’ Roses, and the occasional Madonna ‘Like a Virgin’ rendition thrown in, et. al)

Has recently realized her preference for no panties while wearing dresses. It can usually be counted on for a free drink, as she has recently spent too much money buying too many dresses.

Now understands what all the hype is about when it comes to “sexting”. That shit is fo’ real.

Has a goal to lose enough weight that black men no longer hit on her, not that she doesn’t like black men, just that a little bit of variety goes a long way.
Match.com has become her home page.

Now knows that there REALLY is a difference in condoms. And they don’t stink anymore like they did in the old days.

Has a 24 hour rule (Unless hot Latin men, athletes, really good dancers, old high school crushes come into play…or Italians…did I say Italians yet?) with only a few exceptions making the rule null and void.

She has recently become extremely proficient at photographing herself, in many different situations, including, but not limited to, walking home at 7 in the morning in a prom dress (red thong) and deciding if she wants to hit on all the hot firemen hanging out in front of the firehouse, where the picture assured her, yes, she really WAS that sweaty.

Men love pictures of you in the shower (and the tanning bed…and the hot tub…and the bathroom at work).

Discovered that men love sending pictures of their enormous manhoods to women, where she takes great pleasure in showing to all of her ~~unsuspecting~~ girlfriends.

I do love her, but the girl has lost her freaking mind. Fo' Real!!

Death Row....

2011-12-09T07:30:00.001-08:00

I was once upon a time a court t.v. addict. I didn’t’ work, I had two small children that were perpetually watching Disney, so any chance I got, I wanted to watch the most adult channel on television (Fox doesn’t count, guys).

This was before Court T.V. became “True T.V.”, before Nancy Grace came off as a man hating, overly aggressive in her opinions witch. And I even think her make-up was better back then. Glorida Alred was as annoying as ever and her daughter was just getting started in the television arena.

I would watch these different trials and be fascinated and horrified at the atrocities that are continually committed in our 1st World society.

My oldest son was just a toddler, and I’m not sure if I had given birth to my youngest son, but I remember the case of Brandon Wilson. Some may remember him, some may not, but he was the teenager that walked into a restroom located in an R.V. Park and slit a little boys throat as he stood at the urinal. The boy’s aunt was standing outside the door, and when he never returned, she found him lying in a pool of blood.

The details of the case were shocking. I was an extremely young mom, and Brandon Wilson and I were of an age, so I remember wondering what went wrong in his brain that he was capable of harming a little boy, for no other reason than just to do it? And I remember looking at my own little boy and not being able to fathom the depth of grief that his entire family had to be suffering from such a senseless, heinous act.

Brandon Wilson was sentenced to death row in California. I’m not sure what made me think of the case, as it has been years and years, but I decided to look it up and found out that Brandon Wilson hung himself in his cell last month.

I then found out that since the death penalty was reinstated in 1978 in CA., 19 inmates have committed suicide, while 13 have actually been put to death. Seriously.

Can I just say that in most of my political beliefs, and yes I do have them, if I had to classify myself, which I really hate to do, but in this case I will, I would have to say that I’m pretty far to the left (which is not exactly popular here in the deep South…) but in this instance….When you have a full confession, and in the process of pleading guilty he says that he will do it again if ever given the chance….Why did he sit on death row for over a decade?

It took death by his own hand to finally rid the family that has suffered, and will continue to suffer, of the foul person that robbed them of the joy of seeing their child grow in to a young man. Where is the justice in that?

I now work in our legal system, and I’ve chosen not to work in the criminal field on purpose. While a ton of good can be done there, and obviously, some strides need to be taken to move our justice system along, it is imperative that we, as a so-called forward thinking, precedent setting nation, really need to step up our game.

Currently, more than 700 people are sitting on death row in the state of California alone. 700…..

Surely, many are there with an iron tight case proving guilt. Why are we keeping them around? Could someone answer that question for me?

Saving a Marriage

2011-11-10T11:48:00.000-08:00

Today at work, I’ve been looking up articles called “How to fall back in love with your spouse” and other such nonsense. (I know – I have issues) Can I just say that it is all a bunch of tripe?

Here are a few of the tips/steps they give you:

1. Remember what it was that made you fall in love with them in the first place.

My reply to that is, I was fourteen when I met him. What the hell does a fourteen year old know about love? Not a damn thing. I was horny, he was cute and told me he loved me. Period. I guess looking back I could say that he was nice to me. But HELLOOOO??? He was totally trying to get laid. That is what teenage boys do. Am I supposed to remember what great, taboo sex we use to have on the side of a dirt road in the front seat of his truck? Is that going to make me swoon for him again?

2. Fake it until you make it.

Really? What the fuck is this? AA? Isn’t that their slogan? Fake what? That I want to love on him when he is in the kitchen getting in the way while I’m trying to cook dinner for a household full of males? Maybe write a love note to him and put it on the empty roll of toilet paper that he can’t ever seem to replace? Fake an orgasm? What? What am I supposed to fake? When him and our teenage son are fighting, should I tell him how sexy he looks when he’s ready to strangle our offspring?

3. Give them your undivided attention (one suggested 15 hours a week)

Jesus. Christ. That’s all I have to say about that.

4. Policy of complete honesty.

I’m torn on this. I tend to be super honest, to the point of being mean. Are they saying that the times that I hold back, I should just let the negativity of some of my thoughts just spew from mouth? Isn’t that breaking the golden rule?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my husband. I truly do. I just don’t know if we are going to make it raising our children through these next couple of years. We don’t agree. On anything, really. I’m willing to work at it, as I’ve been with him over half my life, he is a good father, and I still find him attractive. I guess that those are reasons to try….I just find these so called methods a joke. I’m surprised that people actually spend tons of money to go to a damn marriage counselor to take a damn survey. I can do that for like six bucks. All I have to do is buy a Cosmo magazine.

Writer's Block and Videotaped Crimes

2011-11-09T13:45:00.000-08:00

My brain is all over the place anymore. When I sit down to write, I think, “Oh, that would be funny.” But then I start writing, and it just kin d of….stalls….Is this what writer’s block is? Is this the torture of a blinking cursor that all writers talk about in a hushed tone of voice?

A piece of advice that I received from an extremely famous published author was…keep writing. Even if all you are putting down is shit, keep writing, because eventually, it will get better. So that is what I’m doing. And if you think this is shit….I guess….you can kiss my ass.

For those of you out there that maintain their own blog, let me ask you. Do you ever wonder how revealing to be? Should there be some kind of ground ruless that bloggers should follow? Kind of like the whole, if you’re showing off your legs, cover your tits up and vice versa….

I guess because I feel like I have a bit of anonymity on here, I’ve been a little more open in some posts than others. Some people put it all out there though. Blows me away.

Which reminds me (yes, I am rambling…now you see why I’m having such difficulty), I was watching one of those stupid ass redneck shows about dumb criminals and I can’t believe that there are still people out there that are willing to film themselves while committing a crime.

I once saw a film where these boys were videoing themselves riding down a busy street and they begin shooting unsuspecting pedestrians with red paint balls. Call me cruel, but it really was funny as hell…and I would beat the crap out of my kid if I caught him doing something so mean to undeserving people. But it was funny.

And of course they were caught and punished for the crime, which is just as they deserved….

I am leaving for Key West next week. It will be the third time this year that I have went. It is the place that I escape to. Maybe, one day, I will retire to a little conch bungalow and drink the rest of my days away. Only thing is, my husband has never been . Not once. He just doesn’t get it. I went for gay pride week this past year and can’t remember ever having so much fun. I met the most awesome guy from Vancouver. And Stephen from San Diego. We are meeting back there next June. It is going to be epic. Epic, I tell you.

Phantom Pregnancy

2011-11-04T08:51:00.000-07:00

Last night, I'm at the mall shopping. I know, I know...I'm such a fucking girl.

Anway, there I stand at the checkout, waiting on a price check on a pair of panties.

Wait.

That wasn't what was awkward.

I wish.

So, I start making conversation with the checkout girl. She's really cute, maybe early twenties and pregnant. So I start asking all of the extremely personal questions that all pregnant women are asked.

(Hey, I paid my dues and had to put up with that shit, everyone else should have to, too."

I'm just thankful that I didn't rub her belly. That used to piss me off. And it really would've pissed this girl off.

Because, five minutes later, she says, "I'm not pregnant." What. The. Fuck.

Yeah, you heard me right. I totally wanted to die of mortification. So, I say to hell with the panties (even though they were REALLY cute) and pay for what I have and haul ass.

The next store I walk into, I set off the security alarms.

Yep, paybacks a bitch. She totally left the security tag on a sweater I bought and I had to revisit the site of my humiliation. I'm just glad the alarms went off before I got all the way home and realized what was up.

But I can admit, I kind of deserved it.

These Are The Facts of Our Lives

2011-10-27T08:24:00.000-07:00

I have a knack for knowing the year a movie was made. I also know obscure bands that no one outside of Sweden have ever heard of.

I can quote philosophers, I know who was the president during every major conflict in U.S. history (mainly from reading raunchy romance novels), I can sing the theme song from "The Facts of Life" word for word.

My point to being a know it all....Why the fuck don't I know how to parent a teenage boy? Shouldn't my ability to sing theme songs for some of the best family shows in television history (such as Growing Pains) have taught me something???

When is all of my useless knowledge going to pay off? When I accidentally stumble onto the game show "Cash Cab"? That would be awesome, by the way.

Last April, my mom left her asshole husband and moved in with me. Last week, she finally went back to her asshole husband. The weekend before she left, my girlfriend was staying and we went out for the night. We got a room in Orlando so that we would be able to drink if we wanted and I left the boys with my mom.

Monday, after the weekend, I find that my son's screen in his window is laying on the ground outside. He claims he was wanting some air. Huh? What kind of dumb ass do you take me for?

That night, he also tried out his driving abilities. By running into the front of my girlfriends car with a truck that he wasn't supposed to be driving. Did I mention that my girlfriend drives a BMW?

So, he is in so much trouble! First, I take his phone away. Then we tell him he is missing homecoming. His dad kept his cool, all the way up until I told him it would claimed on our insurance, not hers. Then, he got pissed. Made him quit the high school baseball team, was ranting and raving, picked up three different things to throw before slowly putting them back down unharmed.

Later that night, I'm out on the patio reading through my son's phone. That is how I found out he wasn't a virgin anymore.

I know, I know.....It is silly of me to be freaked out when I know what I was doing at his age. But SON OF A BITCH!!! I'm trying to break the cycle here! And I'm kind of heart broken. And maybe, just a tad bit sad.

I know that people said it was going to be hard. Honestly, I think at every stage of my boy's lives, I've rolled with the punches, dealt with every difficult situation, from colic, to broken bones, to blow jobs in the girls bathroom (another story for another day), but this, this thing with my son having sex, it has totally thrown me. WTF?

And it pisses me off that some of the stuff coming out of my mouth I heard and wanted to roll my eyes at when self same words were being uttered by my own annoying mother....

That's not me! I was going to be the fun mom, the one that understood, the one that was there for my kid and never let anything phase me. The one that was a mom first, but that they could always rely on when they needed a friend. That was my role. Now, I'm like a ranting, crazy fucking monkey out of Ohio. Without herpes. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, look that shit up.)

He's a good kid. Truly, he is. He is just a normal, horney little teenager that doesn't know any better. I'm just praying that he doesn't make me a grandma before I can turn 32. If he does, I'm seriously packing my crap and leaving the state. Honest.

Narcissism LIVES!!

2011-10-26T08:57:00.000-07:00

My current blogging community is similar to when all of your friends get married, have babies, and they stop joining you for girls night out. Therefore, I am in need of some new friends – divorced, married, single, swinger….I don’t care so long as there is an interesting thought in their head that they want to put down for me to read, dissect, and discuss. What else am I supposed to do when my work is caught up?Question. Why do people blog? I read the other day that this person believed that every person that blogged had some type of narcissism disorder. Keep in mind, this was not from a professional. But is it true?I replied to that in some kind of flippant manner, but it got me to thinking….As bloggers, are we so vain and self important that we believe everyone wants to read what we think about current events, men, relationships, fashion, food, interior design, etc., etc., etc.?I’ve put an awful lot of thought (okay – that was a lie – I’m winging it here) into this and I have to disagree. Maybe there are a ton of bloggers that think their voice is so important that it must be heard by the masses, but there are plenty of us out here that blog because, well, because it provides a sense of community. Socializing has gone viral, peeps. This is where we communicate. And it doesn’t always matter if you’ve met that person face to face. Or should I say – flesh to flesh, with all the many video chats that are now available? It is nice to have a conversation about something that interests you, even if the person you are conversing with doesn’t always agree. It is sad that the one on one, in person form of communication is soooo 80’s, but that is the way that it is. We are an ever evolving species (Should I put in my religion here? No? T.m.i, huh?) I tell stories about my life. Embarrassing, sad, happy, funny…they run the gamut of the emotional kaleidoscope, but one thing that all of them have in common…Truth. Every single one of them, from the flattering, to my Sharon Stone moment are my true.I’ve never met a self deprecating narcissist, have you?I began this blog a few years ago. Looking back at some of my earlier posts, I see that while my writing style has stayed essentially the same, the sentiment has changed. It is amazing to see how a person changes with their life events. Maybe some would consider blogging a type of diary, and for some, I’m sure they treat it exactly like that. But for me, I’m going to bare it all for private, my eyes only writings. As a blogger, I don’t believe in censorship, but I do believe in keeping some stuff just for yourself. In the beginning, I had a child that was on the cusp of becoming a teenager, and my sweet little eight year old son was just my little runt, I was sure of my marriage, my direction, all of my goals.Now, I look back and I’m thankful for the reflection of myself, of who I was in that particular moment in time and how much I’ve changed. It’s sad at times, bittersweet at others, but I’ve grown to be a very complex, multi-faceted woman that is not at all as confidant as I once thought. I don’t have all the answers and I’m really playing it by ear most of the time, but it is okay. I’m thirty one years old, I have a son that is almost fifteen and I just found out that he was screwing some girl during the high school football game a few weeks ago. If I don’t know what I’m doing all the time, if I occasionally fuck it up, I think I can cut myself a break.What do you think?

It's a Ghost Town...

2011-10-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

Do you know what annoys me? The fact that I haven’t been on here in quite a while and the blogs that I once upon a time followed daily have changed, or ended altogether. This is what I have discovered. Either, (i) they are no longer writing, (ii) the writer has become too big for their pants and now all they do are reviews, either on books, products, or some other such silliness, (iii) they do some bullshit guest writing, or (iv) have disappeared altogether. This is a sad day. Where have all my peeps went? I have some good shit to tell you about. And I wanted to catch up with all of you. But it seems that my blog roll has/is slowly coming to a stop.

Get your shit together guys or I'm sentencing you to the BRIG!!

You Farted! In a bar???

2011-01-17T07:07:00.000-08:00

I love my girlfriends.

Most females have a few different sets of girlfriends. For example, the ones you go to sporting events with, dancing with, to the beach with, a wild weekend trip to the Keys...You get the picture.

The other night, I got together with a couple of my really good girlfriends that I haven't spent any time with lately. We go to this sports bar, which, if you knew these particular gals, you would know it is not really their thing. It was earlyish, so we decided to have a drink at the bar.

The three of us place our orders (and the bartender screwed up my girlie drink)and a few minutes later are blissfully sipping (chugging) our drinks so that we (hurriedly get our buzz on)look like we belong.

Holly says, "What an asshole. The bartender is carding that old lady and he didn't card us."

Now, I guess that I live in a bubble or something, because I never notice details like this. Ever.

But I try to reassure her that he didn't card us because we were unbelievably fabulous looking.

She is reassured.

I then tell her that they are my girliest friends ever.

She got a thoughtful look at this statement and then said, "I farted a minute ago...if that helps."

See? I love my girlfriends.

My Dad's Better Than Yours.....

2010-09-04T06:29:00.001-07:00

My dad is awesome. He's a royal pain in the ass, but Lord knows, I don't know what I would do without him.

His best friend is my ten year old son. Not that he doesn't love my oldest, but my youngest is completely devoted to him.

I seriously sometimes think that he would desert us for his Papa if it weren't for the fact that he really loves me. And he likes playing video games. Which my dad can't stand.

My dad is in town from Colorado for the next week or so and is staying with us. It's okay, because we live in a big house, with a guest room that has its own bathroom and exit point, so we can co-exist in harmony.

Anyway, last night my husband, oldest son, and yours truly went over to a friends house to visit. Dallas chose to stay home with my dad. Upon learning this, my son says, "You trust them at home together?"

Which is a perfectly legitimate question, given the fact that my dad is a six foot five twelve year old. Not in the "I Am Sam" sense, but in the sense that everything is a good time.

We walk in last night and the living room has been converted into a fort.

Every throw blanket, couch pillow and all my kitchen bar stools were involved.

My oldest looks at me and says, "I told you."

I just smiled. These are the moments from when I was a kid that still make me smile.

Once, my best friend and me decided to slide some kittens we had across the kitchen floor. I know, it was mean as hell. PITA would be pissed.

Anyway, to make it extra slide friendly, we sprayed Pledge all over the floor and then put the cats on their bellies and laughed like future serial killers as we slid them back and forth between us.

My dad comes home after we are finished with our game, walks into the kitchen and BUSTS.....HIS.....ASS.

Pledge is apparently hard as hell to get up off the floor.

We admitted what we had done, and even though inside he might've been worried that we were little Aileen Wuornos in the making (without the whole prostitute part), all he said was, "You better get that cleaned up before your mama comes home."

He's a pretty fun guy to be around when you're a kid.

Dude, Where's Your Caretaker???

2010-08-29T04:57:00.000-07:00

Every time I get one of those disgusting, this person died in a freaky, weird kind of way email, I wonder why the hell people send things such as this.

And it also just occurred to me that maybe I'm only one of a select few that have morbid, disgusting friends that actually find this kind of shit interesting.

I received one a while back that had a guy flattened under some kind of bulldozer. Seriously.

But before you get to the really nasty pictures, it does warn you.

"If you have a weak stomach, do not go any further."

Who the hell can resist that? Not I.

Maybe that aspect of my personality is why my friends send me pictures of some poor unfortunate soul that was never taught the proper technique for loading heavy equipment on a trailer. Not that I would probably fare any better.

Last night, I was at the Rays/Red Sox game. I'm amazed at people that go to sporting events to get publicly loaded. Not by the 'intoxicated in public' part, but the whole 'let me spend $10 dollars a beer' part.

Anyway, we were surrounded by a shit load of people that were highly intoxicated and what looked like a serious minority of designated drivers or caretakers of their stupid, loud, profanity screaming buds.

It was funny when some guy decided to make it onto the field (why? I have no idea...)and was tackled by three security dudes before he could even get past the bull pen.

Moron.

Toe Jam? Literally!

2010-08-16T06:30:00.000-07:00

The best part about Mondays....

I was trying to be optimistic, so I tried to come up with a few, but honestly, I've just sat here, looking at my computer screen for the last two minutes drawing an absolute blank.

I can't think of one thing.

Seriously.

And this Monday, I'm sitting here with my feet pulled up in my chair, contemplating the fact the school starts back in seven days and I've got a broken pinkie toe. Yes. Broken. Function suspended.

I guess stumbling through the kitchen at three in the morning is probably not the best idea. And the damn bar stool jumped out at me.

Jumped...

Out...

At...

Me....

I thought I was going to die. It was a good thing my husband was out of town, because I then crawled to the bedroom, rolled around on the bed moaning loudly for about five minutes (I did catch the innuendo, there, by the way) popped three ibuprofen and prayed for the pain to go away.

My foot is now swollen and slightly discolored. And it hurts to walk. Seriously.

In the process of this post, I did find the silver lining. Lots of feet are A LOT uglier than mine. Seriously.

You'd think he would shave his toes. Or maybe clean some of the toe jam out before taking a pic.

And check these nasty things out...

Holy schnikies. It's call a fungus, dude. They sell stuff that actually cures this kind of thing.

Don't get me wrong. My feet are ugly. But a good pedicure goes a long way in camouflaging ugly feet.

while the mouse is away....

2010-07-27T06:53:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a trip.

I leave this afternoon, and I'm not sure when I'm coming back.

My husband and boys are staying home. That's why I'm not sure when I'm going to come home. Lord knows what my house is going to look like when I return. They're pigs. Pigs, I tell you.

I have a little more than three weeks before school starts and I really need to do something before I'm surrounded by the next generation of heathens. Although, I must say that I'm a little tired of having nothing to do. I don't think I was cut out for the whole 'homemaker' lifestyle. I don't bake. Nor have I joined any of those "local mom websites". If my kids come down with a rash, I'm not asking every mom within a hundred yard radius their opinion. I'm just going to take him to the doctor.

My boys know that I'm completely in love with them, but I'm not the Beave's mom, that's for sure.

So, I'm heading to Colorado. It's going to be a vacation with just my dad and me, which I haven't done since I was fifteen. (I'm blocking out the fact that he pissed me off on that trip and I rode a Greyhound bus back to Florida from Amarillo...) I've grown up since then, so when he pisses me off, I can just let loose and vent. No need to spare his feelings. I'm kidding....(for the most part)

Anywayz, I'm riding out there with him and flying home, so I've yet to decide on when I'm coming back. I've debated the different airlines and whether I really want to fly coach. Let's be honest. How often am I going to get to travel without multiple males present?

The last flight I was on with my boys, I thought I was going to choke my youngest. I was sitting in the middle of them, my oldest at the window, my youngest on the aisle. And he had gas. I mean, stink up the entire plane gas. I kept sending him to the bathroom, thinking that maybe if he took a crap, the odorous cloud that was hanging around us would dissipate. After the plane landed, we sat on the runway waiting for an open terminal forever (like twenty minutes) and he thought it would be great to end with a grand finale, an almost constant stream of farts that smelled like something had died up there and was throwing some serious punches to get out....

Anyway, I'm glad to be traveling without them for a change.

My dad lives in Colorado, so I've been before. I've seen all the sights, met all his friends, so hopefully, it'll just be a time to relax. I'm really looking forward to it.

This has been a particularly shitty summer, so I'm ready for something good to come of it.

I'll probably sit on the river and fish. Or I might take a canoe trip. My dad's friend owns several buildings in an old ghost town (called St. Elmo) and he rents out four wheelers, so I might do that one day.

I don't know. Not knowing is probably the best part about it. I love being spontaneous. That is when the best things happen.

I just hope that my husband doesn't destroy my house while I'm gone.

What Language!!

2010-07-23T17:35:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder the origin of some of our popular sayings?

Maybe I'm just weird or extremely boring, but I'm always interested in hearing where these things come from.

Like 'knee slapping'. What the hell?

What is even more interesting than the phrase, is the fact that there is actually some theories on its origin on Wikipedia.

I love Wikipedia. It's effin' awesome. Just look up a Prince Albert on there. It gives you pictures and everything.

Or 'cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey'. It's apparently some kind of seafaring term. Like 'three sheets to the wind'.

And 'hand over fist', or 'hard and fast'. Who knew?

Then there is Mr. Shakespeare.

He coined the phrases 'fight fire with fire' and 'green eyed monster'. Among others is 'lie low' and 'forever and a day', which I find amazing that one man can actually be given credit, but there you go. Among my favorites is 'what a piece of work is man' and 'where the bee sucks, there suck I'...

Then there are the biblical phrases...

'Love of money is the root of all evil'

'The writing is on the wall'

'Fight the good fight'

But the English proverbs are truly the best.

'A little knowledge is a dangerous thing'

'A fool and his money are soon parted'

How about this one. 'A woman's place is in the home'. Shows you what a bunch of jackasses some of our ancestors were, huh?

'Boys will be boys', isn't that right?

And there are a ton of contradictions. 'Don't rock the boat', but didn't you know that 'the squeaky wheel gets the oil'?

I love our language. It's a beautiful thing. I don't know who said it, but I do know that words are powerful. They can change your life with just a little utterance. For good or bad. And some things really stick, so you should definitely be careful of what you say, because, for the most part, nothing can be taken back.

This is me...

2010-07-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

Who are you?

Me? I'm just a normal girl.

A crazy, can't make my mind up, soft hearted, tough, opinionated female that has a slight obsession with shoes, type of female.

I'm a product of my environment, without all the bad shit. I'm truly Southern. Except for the fact that I'm glad the South didn't win. (I could be hung in some parts for that statement, mind you.)

I also have maybe, what could be considered, an unreasonable fear of clowns and the burger king mascot.

I'm also terrified of cockroaches.

I still laugh when some one's name is Cox. Or Peter. Even Richard at times.

I hate smear campaigns, especially when they are sponsored by some generic group that you would have to research in order to find out who is throwing mud.

Sometimes, I don't feel smart enough to vote.

Feeling like a dumb ass is the worst.

I love the fact that I can be anyone on the Internet, but I still choose to be me.

I love when other people are themselves, regardless of the thoughts of the masses.

I laugh at crude racist jokes. And I don't discriminate. I don't care if its about the skinny white girl in the trailer park jokes...

Music is a big part of my life. It makes me laugh, cry, think, can make me feel sexy, or like its going to be a good day, depending on what song is playing when I first wake up in the morning.

I really wish I had a friend in my inner circle that was a gay man, the more of a bitch/diva, the better. (I'm interviewing if anyone wants to try out!)

As a child, I was going to be a rich and fabulous lawyer, that wrote novels on the side, one with fabulous clothes, cars and tons of international travel. Now, I wonder what the hell I could've been drinking. I hate being away from home for more than a week, and it doesn't matter where I'm at.

I love the song Yellow Ledbetter by Pearl Jam, even though I have no effing clue what he's saying. And I don't really want to know, as I think that would take away some of the charm for me.

I wish I owned a red polka dot dress, with a flare skirt and capped sleeves.

I drive a mini cooper, which my husband refuses to go anywhere with me in.

I just heard Eminmen's new c.d., and I feel sorry for him.

I caught my son lying to a girl in a text, so I took his phone away and made a deal. In order for him to get it back, he had to either tell the girl in question in detail what he had lied about or he had to send a text to all of his contacts "I lie to make myself look cool." Is that mean? It took him ten days, but he finally chose the latter. I don't think I scarred him or anything, but you never know with these things.

I hope my sons turn into honest, hard working men that are great fathers. Its my ultimate challenge and dream come true.

I don't know if I'm ready to be the parent of a young teenager. It's really rather rahtarded when you think about it. I'm twenty nine and have a thirteen year old. What the hell were we thinking? However, my son talks to me. He talks to me about things that make me feel extremely old, even though I'm not.

I love the movie "Hangover".

The bad decisions I made as a young teenager has made me an over protective mom. I don't know if its fair or not, but there you go.

I hate the saying "Life isn't fair." It really makes me want to throw something anytime I hear it.

I'm immature. Sometimes.

I love hearing a baby laugh. That for real, belly laugh. That's the best noise in the world.

If I was a guy, I'd probably have a mullet and drive a 1967 camaro with an eagle on the hood, while constantly blaring Lynyrd Skynrd's Free Bird. (That's my favorite song.) Yeah, I know. It would be like Joe Dirt, part two. (I hate that movie.)

I sometimes wonder why I'm here.

I wish I had a cool job, like the Stephanie Plum character in Janet Evonovich's books.

I really wish I had me a Ranger, for those of you that are familiar with the novels...

I want a long vacation without my family. Is that horrible? I truly love them, but I really want a break from them. They are rather needy males.

Drinking wine makes me feel sophisticated, but I absolutely loath the shit. It takes at least a bottle before it becomes palatable.

When I wear heels, I'm just about six feet tall. And it makes me feel powerful. And sexy.

I hate stereotypes.

What type of first impression do you usually project? Me? Everyone usually thinks I'm a stuck up bitch, that thinks I'm better than everyone else.

I'm not. I promise.

WTF is up with The Today Show???

2010-07-15T10:57:00.000-07:00

What the hell has happened to The Today Show?

For the last two mornings, I've arisen around seven thirty and tuned into what was once a very informative news program, with bits of humor thrown in to amuse....

And all I've learned is that Bristol Palin is a complete and total moron.

Oh, yeah, and that there is some desperate guy with a more desperate mother trying to marry him off.

I've also learned that there is a lot of fake shit for sale and that BP still can't figure out how to clean their mess up.

All in all, I think my brain has stored even more unnecessary information while watching The Today Show than it has over the last three days of me having a One Tree Hill marathon with my box sets. And that's saying something.

When the going gets tough....

2010-07-01T07:27:00.000-07:00

The month of June is usually a difficult one for my family. I usually just put my head down and try to get through it. For those of you that missed it, this is the month that we lost my sister in law and nephew in a tragic way. You can read about it http://girlsaresmarterthanyou.blogspot.com/2009/12/to-make-you-smile.html.

It was six years ago on June 7th, which is just mind blowing to me. Sometimes, the scenes of that time come flying back so vividly, that it might have just happened yesterday....

And, yes, I know it is July, but my melancholy mood remains, as a friend has just suffered a tremendous loss.

Day before yesterday, in the early morning hours, her husband was killed in the line of duty. He was working in Tampa, where a car was pulled over for not having a visible tag. My friend's husband showed up as back up when a warrant showed up on the suspect. He then shot both officers.

My friend, Sara, is nine month's pregnant. The baby is scheduled to be born next week. It was their first child, and Jeff will never see her born.

So, I ask everyone to say a prayer for both officer's families, and to realize that sometimes life is difficult. Sometimes it flat out sucks.

Sometimes, there's not enough money to pay the bills...

Sometimes, your friend pisses you off and you just want to smack her...

Sometimes, your husband acts like a total douche and you wonder what the hell you were thinking...

Sometimes, that bitch in the piece of shit Kia that almost killed you in Orlando makes you want to commit an act of road rage...

Sometimes, your kids destroy your freshly clean house...

Sometimes, you just want to run away...

But, all the time, someone is going through something a little worse than you.

Never ask if it can get any worse, because I promise you, it can, and one day, it might...

Dumb Ass Friends and Dumb Ass Tickets

2010-06-26T15:09:00.000-07:00

The other day, an old friend texts me, asking for my address. She then goes on to explain that she is getting married again and having another baby.

(Hey, this is the South. It's how we roll.)

Anyway, this friend just got divorced last year from a guy that she has been with since her early teens. So she's branching her whore sense out. Problem is this.

I went and visited with her at her sister's house about two months ago, where I met her new man.

He's outside, hanging with the men, we're in the kitchen, which is where all the good gossip goes down. She tells me that she doesn't really like him, finds him boring, yada, yada, yada.

So, imagine my surprise when I find out she's actually going to MARRY the boring shit.

WTF?

A little background on my friend.

We met in the seventh grade, where we bickered over some guy, then became good friends.

I remember one instance in eighth grade, sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch. She actually told me that cum would make your teeth whiter. No shit. In eighth grade. Won't ever forget it.

Anyway, the point to this post. Does everyone have that dumb ass friend that just doesn't get it?

Also, pondering her upcoming marriage has made me contemplate all of my friends and their idiotic life choices.

By the way, most of my friends either are or were, at some point in their lives, sluts. Seriously.

Except for my bestie. She is the single exception.

(I promise, I'm not a slut...even if I did get prego at fifteen...Again, this is the South. It's how we roll - and I'm entering a disclaimer here: my husband is no relation...not even distantly...that I know of.)

Anyway, quick story on one of my not so glamorous moments.

A few weeks ago, I'm out in Tampa with a couple of girls that I barely know (long story as to how I ended out with them). Both of them are named Brittany, one is a little ghetto and we are in a not so upstanding part of town club hopping.

Anywayz, I was going to be nice, because one of them had worn not so sensible shoes, so I was going to move the car closer.

I pull into a slot, head into Coyote Ugly, where we stay for maybe an additional fifteen minutes. We then leave, and what do I find?

Two mounted police officers, one of which is writing me a parking ticket.

(I had inadvertently parked in a Cab only zone - five open spots and a cab occupying only one of them, but there you go...)

The ghetto Brittany (long bleach, bleach blond hair, boobs falling out of her shirt, shoes about six inches in the heel, with a juicy tattoo on her neck) proceeds to try to hit on the cop with the ticket book, when I look the other cop in the face.

Turns out I know him. Yes. That's right. I know him.

Our sons played on the All Star team together last year in Little League.

I wanted to die.

Now, don't get me wrong, my husband knew I was going out. He has no problem with this. We don't go out together, unless it is to a friend's house. We tend to (he tends to) act like total morons in public when in each other's presence. That's all I'm going to say about that. Anywayz...

I tell ghetto Brittany to just get in the damn car, snatch my ticket away from the cop, give a little shit to Little League dad, and leave.

I just want to know how long it's going to take before I start hearing stories about me getting ticketed by his partner at two in the morning in downtown Ybor, with two twenty three years old, one of which tried to pick up his partner. That should make for interesting gossip in the stands. Huh?

Deluded Parents and Scary Teenage Girls

2010-06-15T04:42:00.000-07:00

My son plays baseball, for those of you that are unaware.

And he's actually pretty good. He turned thirteen in March and is already five foot eight. He's also very fit. These are all great things in baseball. However, this is not his crowning glory.

He's a leftie. And he pitches. Which apparently is a golden ticket. Or so he is constantly being told. So, even at thirteen, we have all these teams that are interested in him playing for them.

Anyway, the point to this post is....some parents are bat shit crazy. Fo real.

If you are anything like me, you would be amazed and downright horrified by the amount of parents that push their children to play a sport that they don't really enjoy and pretty much pimp their kids out to teams to get them recognition. At THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!

There are several types of these parents. The ones that truly believe their boys are going to make it to the bigs and are planning their entire retirement fund around that event, to the ones that are completely deluded into thinking that their child has abilities that he obviously doesn't. It's ridiculous.

Take my son for example. He's good. At pitching.

However, the whole common sense thing has completely escaped him.

For example, we were talking about where ham came from (pigs), then hamburgers (cows), when he asks "Where does chicken come from?"

Seriously.

So, while his athletic ability and physical stature are definite pluses, he's something of an airhead. Even as his mother, I know this. I love him anyway. It's that whole unconditional love thing.

Does that make me mean? I can admit that I am kind of mean. But its not like I run around calling my child, my love, the fruit of my womb, a dumb ass or anything.

And I do encourage him, tell him he can be anything he wants, he just has to apply himself.

But lets be honest. Not everyone has the ability to be a brain surgeon.

Also....

....these little slutty girls now-a-days....

Women, am I lying? Men, hell, even so-called "smart men" are dumb asses when a piece of tail is waved around in their faces.

Alex makes good grades in school, only a hand full of "C's" this year...but that is because, and he has admitted it, that he didn't have any "hot girls" in most of his classes.

I'm terrified. Some little hooch in shorty shorts, boobs bigger than mine, with an all over spray tan is going to molest my little boy.

I was knocked up at fifteen... gave birth at sixteen. I am bound and determined to break the cycle with my child. I really don't want him to wind up on an episode of "Sixteen and Pregnant" on MTV.

I want to know where the hell the male birth control shot is. These damn pharmaceutical companies need to get on the ball. Have they not seen how these little girls are behaving lately?!

If only they could stay babies...

but they do...

grow up...

a little at a time...

Grow up ALREADY!!

2010-04-17T18:52:00.000-07:00

Do you ever want to hit someone? I mean, for real? Not just in that fuzzy fantasy land you sometimes go to in your mind, but where you literally have to make a conscious effort not to knock the shit out of the person standing before you???

That's how I feel right about now.

So, what do you do with your pent up aggression?

Do you try to get drunk, bury the feelings of sheer rage? Doesn't that just make it worse?

Do you have sex to maybe burn off some of the energy? (As a side note, I never understood the whole fight and make up theory - seems to me that if someone really pisses me off, the less I want to go to bed with them...but that's just me...)

Maybe you work out, sweat some of the discontent off.

Honestly, when I'm really pissed off, I just have to wait it out. I'm not one to hold a grudge, as fighting pisses me off worse than whatever the original issue was. But sometimes, like now, my husband can make me so pissy that I just want to hit him. I keep telling myself that my adolescent days are behind me and that no real good could come from bloodying his nose, but my physical reaction to anger is sometimes, nearly, almost, as strong as the great wisdom and maturity I've developed over the last dozen years or so...

And I know I probably shouldn't come on here and vent about my other (notice I don't say better) half, as that is a real pet peeve of mine...but right now, my aggravation with him is by far outweighing any couth I have in the relationship etiquette department.

I won't go into detail about what a dumb ass he is, but I figure it is typical male behavior.

What is wrong with the male psyche, that whenever someones tells you they don't want you to do something, come hell or high water you're going to do it just to show them that you can?

I don't want to be his mother. Not at all. I hate nagging. So I don't. But I do get pissed. And sometimes want to resort to physical violence. I won't (at least I'm 99% sure I won't), even if he deserves it....

So that's where I'm at. Pissed at my husband and venting about it out in cyber land.

On a Saturday night.

At home.

On the computer.

I'm so effin' lame.

It's ALIVE!!

2010-03-29T05:58:00.001-07:00

Okay, so while I've been a little MIA lately, I promise I'm still among the living.

And I'm actually getting some great material to blog about.

Saturday night, I was in a limo with twelve other crazy ladies on a bachelorette party, where lots of funny shenanigans took place, which I will post about soon, I promise!

I also need to tell everyone about watching New Moon with the husband. You would've thought I was pulling his toe nails out with pliers. Seriously.

And today, I'm heading to Cocoa Beach, where my spring break commences. I'm currently sitting here posting this, fully prepared for the beach while two of my princes(esses) are taking their sweet time on packing a bag.

I hate waiting on people.

I'm sure I'm going to be a total biotch once we finally get on our way, because they are not making sure I'm happy. It's not going to be premeditated bitchiness (no matter the fact that I'm already predicting this).

No.

It's going to come out at the most unexpected times, much like turret's syndrome. I'm going to bust out with something like, "Do you need me to get your balls out of my purse?! What the hell are you waiting for?!", when my husband wants to wait FOREVER and a day to pull out onto the highway. He does this type of thing frequently. And there is no happy medium. He will either pull out in front of someone and make me nearly crap my pants out of sheer terror or he will wait until I sprout a grey hair to make up his mind to go. Drives me effing crazy.

Oh, oh...I think they might be getting close. Let me go kick them in their asses and get this show on the road.

Peace out, girl scouts.

Angle of My Piss

2010-03-23T15:37:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I totally found something that is going to make my days much more pleasant..

I've found the secret to peeing quietly. Yes. It's true. I'll tell you how. (and why.)

So, the staff bathroom (the only one that I'm not afraid something is going to jump onto my nether regions if I use) is in a hallway with offices all around. One day, I was walking down this hallway (to the bathroom no less) and heard the sound of a gigantic horse taking a leak. I was kind of embarrassed for the person on the other side of the door, (and concerned because I thought the bathroom was for women only and it surely had to be a man draining his boy bit)when the door opens and out steps this little petite woman.

First off, I was amazed that such a little thing could make such a racket (is that with a 'w'?) and then I was relieved that the one bathroom I was comfortable using wasn't a unisex potty.

(No offense meant, gentlemen...okay, so that's a lie. You may be offended, because I frankly don't give a shit...You guys are disgusting. For real.)

So, it had me slightly freaked out that every time I go to this potty, the sound of me peeing is echoing into the hallway like Niagara Falls.

Anyway, I've since experimented with the angle of my urine. (I really would never have thought that 'angle of my urine' would be something that I would ever say, much less write for anyone that suffers severe boredom and has access to the Internet to read, but there you go...'angle of my urine'.)

I've since found that if you pee on the porcelain, not directly into the water, there is virtually no sound.

*Sigh of relief...

I can now piss unselfconsciously.

Smart Ass

2010-03-11T13:40:00.000-08:00

I love some of the assignments some of these teachers come up with. They keep me highly entertained...

For instance, today, I had a group of students that were in trouble that were given a very interesting writing assignment. They were to write an ENTIRE PAGE (oh, no!) on a day in the life from their shoes, their agendas, a poster from their favorite class, the oak tree in front of the school and one of their teacher's, perspective.

A few of them totally blew it, even with me giving them ideas, and hello, in case you haven't noticed, I'm totally the bestest writer in the whole wide world. Right? Right?

Anywayz, one of the boys actually took my suggestions and had me laughing my ass off.

He wrote one from his shoe's perspective, such as how badly he hated having dog crap on himself and how much he enjoyed the fact that his owner talked to him, and even occasionally would sing to him....and how all the other shoes were jealous that they didn't have such wonderful owner's that bathed them regularly and how he was always a-shinin', yo....

Anyway, it was really funny and I hope he sticks with writing, because his imagination might just outshine mine. Maybe...but probably not. :-)

There was this other assignment that I ran across, one that a child had not completed from last month. It was a Valentine's Day resume.

In resume format, you were supposed to list all the attributes you had that would make a prospective valentine desire you.

Am I the only perve in the room?

I totally would've mentioned my boob size, ass shape, shapely legs and the way I fill out a skirt. But I don't think any of the kids did that. Which made me wonder about this generation.

Because if this were MY assignment, I would've headed straight to the gutter with it.

The kids today have no imagination.

So, excluding the kid with the shinin' shoes, I think it's safe to say that all of the good writing jobs are safe for all of us current writer's out here. Especially those of us that enjoy bringing a smile to a reader's face.

I Need, I Need, I Need.....

2010-03-10T18:18:00.000-08:00

Do you ever wonder why things happen at the worst possible time?

Four days before I started my new job, my youngest broke his wrist, and it couldn't be a typical run of the mill break....no....It had to warrant surgery, so I missed a day of work for that.

This week we are having testing, very important testing, and while I normally don't mind missing work (I actually relish playing hooky from time to time), I refuse to miss this soon into a job. So, here I am, sick again and having to drag my snotty, congested, eyes watering, scabbed up nose ass to work. It sucks.

But on the plus side, I witnessed a very funny thing happen.

Kids today are asses. They possess no work ethic, nor any moral values worth mentioning. (With a few exceptions to the rule...I don't want to forget my own precious angel, of course.)

One of our deans called some girl down to the office. When she walked in, she had no idea what she was there for. The dean asked the girl for her boyfriend's name, so she gave it. The dean then proceeds to call the boyfriend up. I was almost afraid to ask, but of course, I'm a nosy bitch so I wanted to know if they were caught scrumping in the potty.

Unfortunately, the girl was just spotted making out that morning and the dean wanted to chew the P.D.A loving couple a new one.

This is where it gets interesting.

Turns out the boy that the girl was making out with that morning WASN'T her boyfriend and she totally got busted. The dean was rather embarrassed and vowed that she would be more specific in the future. Instead of asking, "What's your boyfriend's name?" it would go more like this, "Whose tongue did you have in your mouth this morning?"

Serves the little hooch right...He dumped her right there in the office, too.

I'm ready for some hot weather. I need the sun. Seriously. I need the water to warm up, so that I can cool off after the U.V rays eats my skin off. I need to run around in flip flops and tank tops and cut off shorts. I need to have tan lines. I need my hair bleached out naturally so that I don't have to spend a fortune getting it artifically colored. I need to be on the water. I also need an excuse for a pedicure as my feet are beginning to scare me...even worse than normal.

And I need an excuse to wear my new red bathing suit, as I tried it on the other day and I'm totally rocking it. (Not that I'm bragging or anything....okay, so I totally am, but in my defense I've busted my ass over the last year for my body, so I've earned the right.)

I also need my hair to grow another half inch so that I can wear it in a pony tail because I had to chop all the dead crap off the last time I had my hair did, due to flat ironing the shit out of it. I recommend a blow dryer and a paddle brush if you want straight hair. The flat iron is a murderer. Seriously.

This is just a few things I need. I'm sure I could go on...and on...and on...and on...but I won't bore you with the details.

Peace out, peeps.

I was stabbed, once upon a time...

2010-03-02T14:23:00.000-08:00

When I was young(er), I worked as a waitress at this little barbecue joint that smokes the ribs in the middle of the restaurant, no air conditioner and concrete floors. The working conditions were atrocious, but the people were some of the best I've ever met.

With a few exceptions, but that's a story for another day.

Throughout the course of my time employed there, there were many pranks that were pulled.

One of which was where I poured mineral oil all in one girls sweet tea (I didn't like her a whole lot and didn't care if she sat on the shitter for the majority of her shift).

Another one, I put a rubber snake in a guys truck that habitually left his window down even though he parked under a group of oak trees. The guy got a shovel (after he finished screaming like a little girl) and proceeded to beat the shit out of his seat four or five times before he realized it was fake.

Another time I closed someone up in the freezer (only for a few minutes, though) and was highly amused at the level of hysteria a middle aged lady (I use the term loosely) can get in just a few minutes.

I guess you could say that I'm something of a pain in the ass, maybe even a little mean at times. And it really was all in good fun (for the most part).

So, I know that I have something coming for me, as I don't include the time that my shirt was frozen into a solid block of ice when I had to change due to barbecue sauce down my front.

There's really no point to this post, other than the fact that I've been reminiscing about some of my old jobs, the good, the bad and the sheer awfulness of some of them.

I do want to point out that I was also stabbed in the leg while working at the above restaurant, so I figure that probably balanced the scales a little bit. It was apparently on accident, but as I didn't get along with the girl wielding the knife, I do have my doubts. I was about to beat the shit out of her until I looked down and saw blood pouring down my leg. Have you ever been stabbed? Not cut, but stabbed? That shit hurts like hell. For real.

At my job as a lifeguard as a teenager, I took a nose dive off my lifeguard stand. How reassuring is that? The lifeguard doesn't even know how to climb up a very large wooden ladder and she's guarding the lives of your children?

I also once worked at a hospital and would take patients for x-rays, M.R.I.'s etc. I quit when I had a psyche patient about ripmy co-worker's hair out from the root and I had to tie her to the stretcher with a sheet in order to subdue her. That one was fun.

So, my work history is long and varied and I wonder what is going to happen in my new job that I will remember years from now (excluding the kid whacking off in class).

I just hope that one student will think that I've made a difference for them. If that happens, I'll think that it was totally worth it. (plus, summer's off BABY)

I hope everyone is having a good week.

Dear Dumb Ass

2010-03-01T13:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Mom of dumb ass student,

I apologize for ruining your day by phoning you and letting you know that your daughter has bladder issues and is unable to make it to her class on time.

I apologize for letting you know school policy so that you may talk with your daughter about taking more timely bathroom breaks.

I also apologize for the fact that the apple didn't even take a slight roll away from the family tree and fell in a rotten, gooey heap upon the algae, moldy infested roots of said tree.

I apologize for the fact that you're a complete dumb ass, waste of space and will most likely contribute an exact replica of yourself onto the good/tolerant graces of society.

I would also like to inform you that I'm very glad that I met you in my professional work space, because that made it your safe place, as I refrained from doing what I wanted to do, which was crawl through the phone and let you know all of the above and if you took issue, settle it the old fashioned way.

Sincerely,

The dumb ass teacher you disrespected and left with a foul taste in her mouth.

Honestly....I'm amazed at the sheer stupidity of some so-called adults. This woman was actually pissed that her daughter's teacher took exception to the fact that she interrupted class by entering late, due to the fact that she had to pee.

This is especially galling, as not a teacher at our school would refuse the request to go to the bathroom. If the little twit would've at least went to class, explained that she was in dire need of the potty, she would've gotten a pass and then my work would not have been interrupted and I wouldn't now think that said girl is doomed to a life of crime, promiscuity and complete ignorance of the way the world works.

I actually had to send this girl to the principal, rather than have her stay in my class for the length of the on going lesson. The principal then had to deal with her dumb ass of a mother, and then turn the girl around to, HELLO????... spend the rest of the class period with me.

What a dumb ass. Seriously.

Carcusses and My Library

2010-02-24T14:00:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting in my library/computer room, looking at all the books that I've consumed over the years.

I have five big book shelves completely crammed full, some what in alphabetical order. I probably need three more bookcases to get completely organized, but it's okay. Because I love this room. With one exception.

My husband has killed some animals over the last several years and for some reason, he thinks it necessary to stick the dead animal heads on the walls. I've refused to allow him to place them in my living room where their dead, glassy eyes can watch me as I watch television. And the dining room is out. Eww.

So here I sit, with several "trophy" animals staring down at me from their perch on my walls.

We've had long, loud and drawn out debates on the ethical side of hunting. Even though I always win these arguments with my wit and intelligence, it has not deterred him in the slightest from peering through a scope and murdering these poor defenseless animals.

Don't get me wrong. I love me a great big greasy cheeseburger.......or a t-bone steak, but I prefer that the meat come all nice and prepackaged.

And I also wish I didn't have to have these corpses on my walls ruining my most favoritest room.

This goes in the con column of marrying and sharing your life with someone.

But, like I've said before, he better be glad he's so handsome. Or I'm not sure if it would be worth it.

And he cracks me up...(note the porn stash)

Things That Make Me Go "Hmmmm"

2010-02-20T13:58:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while I'll ponder the meaning of certain things. (Yeah, I know...scares the shit outta me, too.)

Like for instance, there are a couple of blogs that I read that just make me feel stupid and I wonder why I subject myself. Let me explain.

It's like reading the business section of the paper. Most of the time, I'm not exactly sure what I'm reading, but I keep thinking that I'm going to get smarter if I just stick with it. The big words that I don't understand, the obscure pop culture references, among other things, just skim the surface of my brain and I have no effing clue what is being talked about. But, man, when something clicks, I feel like a damn rocket scientist.

And then it'll occur to me....Why the hell do I bother? Am I a glutton for punishment? Why am I wasting my time reading tripe that I haven't got a damn clue what is actually being discussed?

And I really, really, really hate feeling stupid. Go figure.

Another thing that I don't get. Lady Gaga. Why exactly? Why does someone like her get all this attention? Frankly, I find her unattractive and the music sub par. But then again, any time one of her videos comes on, I find myself watching it with my mouth hanging open in puzzled bewilderment.

And why does she get to make out with Alexander Skarsgard? Life is just unfair at times.

Here's another one.

Why does my body rebel on me every month? If it wouldn't make me grow chin hair and be put on hormone treatment, I would seriously beg someone to rip out my uterus. It's retired anyway and completely redundant at this point.

I also don't understand nipples on men.

I also wonder if ugly people experience love at first sight with someone in their league. Is that mean? If it is, I apologize, but this is something that I've wondered when I see a couple that makes me believe that there is, indeed, someone for everyone.

Like this girl...Did someone see her and think, I've got to have me some of that?

Why do people buy hummers? Does it make them feel powerful? Or more attractive? It's such a douche bag car. Kind of like Ed Hardy t-shirts. Yes, somewhat attractive at times, but it just screams "Look At Me!! I NEED Attention!" Am I the only one that feels this way? Just to be clear, Ed Hardy was in maybe two years ago, but when they started selling so called one of a kinds at Sam's for $19.95, it's definitely a sign that the whole Ed Hardy thing has run it's course.

I also don't understand people that can't hear obvious sarcasm. I don't know exactly how I come across on here, but in real life, I'm a very sarcastic person. It amuses me. And I come off as an asshole from time to time, especially if you just don't "get me". But mostly, I'm full of shit and I know it, and if you have half a brain, you wouldn't let me offend you when I'm not being serious. I'm just screwing around.

Seriously, how do these people make it through life?

I also hate those bumper stickers that say stupidly cheerful things.

Usually, if I'm reading your bumper sticker, it's because I'm tailgating you and I don't give a shit if you "Hate Mean People". That just makes me want to flip you off, that way when I pass you, you'll realize that you should maybe, probably, at the very minimum, go the damn speed limit.

Another thing. If you're from somewhere that has great amounts of snow, do not come to Florida and bore the locals with how cold it is "back home" and say that we're wimps for shivering when the high only reaches sixty. Sure, it's not as cold as a well digger's ass, or a witches tittie (never understood that saying.....how cold is a witches tittie? And is that "ie" or just "y"?) but to us poor Floridians, it's scarf, wool underwear time.

Okay, I've vented enough. I'll end with a little story from last week at school.

So, I'm not sure if this is common or not, but I pray not.

Teenage kids, and this boy in particular, are strange.

I walk into the office late last week and there's this boy boo-hooing in the office. I mean, boo-hooing. Snotting, hiccuping...the whole nine yards.

When I ask what he's in the Principal's office for, I found out that the kid was caught whacking off.......in class....Wth??

What's really disturbing, I had a kid ask me for some lotion yesterday afternoon. Not the same boy. A different one.

Is this normal adolescent behavior?

Genetic Floor Pissing

2010-02-15T13:37:00.000-08:00

As a mom of a young man that is almost thirteen, it is a constant battle to keep my house clean. And, seeing as I might be a bit of an O.C.D. control freak, I like to keep a very (very, very, very) clean house.

And he's a pig. Seriously.

I live with three males and I'm completely outnumbered.

My youngest son is ten and while they're completely different in every other respect, they are very similar in the fact that their aim is way off while taking a piss. Knowing my husband, it must be genetic.

We have a big house, so everyone has their own bathrooms. Sounds nice, until you set out to clean them. I enter with caution, a gallon of bleach and rubber gloves.

"Jesus!" is usually the first thing out of my mouth upon entry.

"You've got to be kidding me!" is not far behind.

By the time I finish, my lungs are burning, eyes are watering and I've typically developed even more disgust for my offspring than ever before. Yes, it may sound harsh, but disgust is really the only emotion that moves through my body as I'm scrubbing the piss off the surrounding walls and that little holding area every toilet seems to come equipped with located at the floor where it bolts in.

I have many friends that ask why I don't make them clean it up themselves. Sure, I've done this, but it is never up to my standards.

Put it like this. I once cleaned my oldest son's bathroom and a few days later, he comes out and says, "I love it when the toilet is blue, mom."

And me, puzzled, asked him how the toilet was still blue.

"I've been peeing in the shower so that it'll stay clean."

Huh?

I'm not making this shit up.

One morning, I went in to his room to wake him up for school before leaving for work and you literally could not see the floor. I do my normal routine, lose my mind a little, threaten him with loss of limb if its not clean before I get home from work and head out.

When I arrive home that afternoon, my husband has him in the truck, heading out for baseball practice. He rolls the passenger window down and shouts out at me, "Mom, I remembered to clean my room!" and as I'm about to say thank you, he finishes with this, "I just didn't do it!"

I guess he wanted a pat on the back for at least remembering what I wanted him to do.

I really, really need a maid. Problem is, she/he probably wouldn't clean it to my standards either.

Ball Busters

2010-02-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

Could you imagine being raised by a ball buster such as Gloria Allred?

She has done many memorable things within her life time and while I admire many, it seems as though I only see her when someone is screwing someone they shouldn't be (and she typically falls on the side of the woman - who is usually screwing a married man, which I find ironic, as she is a great proponent for legalizing gay marriage. She continually mocks the sanctity of the institution, while fighting for the rights of everyone to join in.) or jumping in on cases that have shit to do with her.

It's actually very smart. If you're a media hound.

She is the one that filed a suit against Jacko when the weird (but talented - I'll give him that much) asshole dangled his baby off a balcony a few years back (for those of you that were living under a rock at the time). She actually notified child protective services, as though they didn't know.

But it did get her name in the news. So, kudos.

Honestly, I've always thought she was a man hater. It seems as though whenever she is on CNN or whatever channel she is currently subjecting their viewers to her holier than thou persona, it is to rip apart some hapless man.

(I say hapless, because ladies, lets be honest - most of the time, men are just dumb asses. Even the smart ones are dumb asses. It's some type of extra gene that comes along with the excess testosterone. Kind of like an extra chromosome, but without the visual bad shit.)

And before anyone thinks I'm against gay marriage, let me assure you that I believe anyone that is willing to subject themselves to anything that can be referred to as an institution should by all means have the right to do so. Especially for those that need a spouse so that they can have health insurance.

Her daughter is Lisa Bloom, who is also an attractive woman that has a tendency to hate on the men on national television.

I guess that apple didn't fall far from that tree.

And to make mommy proud, she even sued the Boy Scouts for not allowing a girl to join. Bet she got an "Atta girl!" for that one.

Is CNN the new Fox?

2010-02-12T03:44:00.000-08:00

I was watching the news this morning and CNN was discussing the death of designer Alexander McQueen.

I guess I've been out of the fashion world long enough that I had no idea who the hell he was, other than I recognize some of his crazy ass clothes.

Think Lady Gaga.

Who, other than her, would wear this crap? And Sarah Jessica Parker?

I do have to say that it wasn't always bad. He had some beautiful pieces, although they were a touch eccentric and no "normal" person would ever be able to wear them.

Such as this:

He was definitely an artist that pretended to design clothes.

Anyway, reminiscing over a designer that had the bad taste to "allegedly" kill himself is not the point of this post.

CNN said, and I quote, "Alexander McQueen went out on his own terms".

??????

Is this how you report the tragedy of a lost human being killing themselves?

They discussed the fact that his mother died eight days ago and he must have been depressed.

You think?

Anyway, I will point out that personally, I feel sorry for anyone weak minded enough to end their life prematurely due to their own inability to deal with life. Life.

It sucks. It is hard. People die. Deal with it.

And if you can't deal with it on your own, rather than make your loved ones suffer, get your selfish ass to a shrink and figure it out.

CNN, if you actually read anything other than your own tripe and the New York Post, read this.

Do me a favor. Do not glamorize the poor schmuck's suicide. It's not glamorous.

Just ask the cleaning crew.

EVIL EYED LAURIE

2010-02-10T03:54:00.001-08:00

>
Hi.

My name is Laurie and I'm a bitch.

I've discovered this over the last couple of days. I've always suspected, but now I know it as fact.

You want to know how I know this?

Well, I'm the new teacher's aide at my son's middle school. Yes. THE HORROR!

He's adjusting, as he doesn't have any other choice.

And apparently, the newbies get stuck with the bad kids. You know...the ones that scream profanities, destroy school property, break people's noses and let's not forget the worst of the bunch.....the ones that are consistently tardy or out of uniform....but that is a whole different issue.

Anyway, I'm in charge of those kids that make bad choices, at least for the next several weeks, but I have to say that I might have found my niche.

They are terrified of me. Seriously.

And all I had to do was give them the evil eye and scream at the top of my lungs a couple of times. It's pretty amazing, actually.

I already have a REPUTATION.

My son has the insider's view.

He's been hearing either, "Dude, your mom is hot!" or "Dude, your mom is such a BITCH!"

I'm just glad he's my son, because over the last several days, I've realized that I have pretty good kids.

So, thank you, God. You done me right in the whole procreation thing.

Vampire Sluts and Why We Love Them

2010-02-05T10:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, so the title was just to get your attention. Mostly.

Okay, so sue me, I love me some good Hollywood gossip. It's really beneath me, yada, yada, so what, kiss my ass.

Anyway, I guess that Kristen Stewart (aka: Bella) had to serve on jury duty last week. Or this week. Or something. Whatever.

I guess she actually got selected and it totally made her lose street cred in my book. WHO IN HELL CAN'T COME UP WITH AN EXCUSE TO GET KICKED OUT????

Really?

1. Q: Ma'am, do you have any family members or close friends with the arresting police department?

A: Weeeellll, a train was pulled on me at a party about a month ago. The arresting officer was definitely there. I recognize him by his gun.

2. Q: Do you have any reason, morally or religiously, for opposing prosecuting someone for the alleged crime?

A: If the defendant isn't Mormon.

3. Q: Are you biased in any way towards people of a differently ethnicity or sexual orientation than you?

A: Hell no! The gayer, the better! I've considered being a lesbian since the eighth grade when Tommy, the little queer, broke my heart and went out with that little chica slut Maria.

4. Cry, sob, moan, blow you nose incessantly. When they ask you what's wrong, point at the defendant and rush out of the room.

*I'm sure this would work if you were called into multiple courtrooms for selection.

5. Start twitching all over and rub your nose like you have a thousand dollar a day coke habit. For extra points, keep flour in your pocket to rub on the end of your nose any time an attorney approaches the juror's box. (You might get arrested, but the charges would fall through after a little bit of investigation.

6. In the manner of Larry Flynt, you could do one of two things. One, wear a diaper or two, a shirt that says "Fuck This Court". One of three things could/will happen.
a. You're held in contempt
b. You're fined
c. You're released from jury duty

Please note: You could really double ensure you won't be serving if you wear both.

7. What are all the other young moronic girls doing in Hollywood? Get arrested, girl! If you are convicted of a crime, you won't even have to come up with an excuse.

Really...how hard would any of this be for Kristen Stewart? Sure, the gossip mags might go a little wild for a while, but aren't they already a little over the top?

And while I know there are some out there that really don't mind doing their civic duty, Kristen Stewart doesn't exactly strike me as the patriotic type

(other than her portrayal of Pat Benatar, even though she was no Cissy Spacek in Coal Miner's Daughter- now THAT my friends, is American.).

If you disagree, I'll water board your ass.

Semper Fi, bitches.

Old Jobs, New Jobs, Broken Bones & Piss

2010-02-03T20:02:00.000-08:00

Hot damn!

Okay, so I have two more days at my current job....I'm going to have a hell of a time trying to get everything in order for the next dumb ass...I mean person that fills the position. And the process has been greatly compromised.

Let me explain.

Tonight, my youngest son (he's 10) was at church and the brilliant organizer's of his age group thought that it would be a good idea for the kids to do a relay race....with OTHER children on their backs...

Yes, I know. Morons.

Lets just say that D.C. got his coordination gene from his mother, which means that he trips over his own feet on a regular basis. (Hey, I got beauty and brains - God didn't see fit to bless me with gracefulness, too - what do you expect? A trifecta?)

Anyhow, he takes two steps and does a face plant. AND BREAKS HIS FRIGGIN' WRIST IN HALF!!!!

Baby Jesus, please help me.

So, he was there with my sister in law and I was out picking up dinner when she called, and as I was wearing my ghetto ass slippers (they're actually fuzzy green, with leopard print detailing - don't judge me), I hauled ass home to put on some real shoes and beat a trail to the hospital.

I calmed him down, bless his little heart, and they took x-rays, where it was discovered that he broke one of the bones in his wrist clear through. What was weird, he only broke one of them, which is apparently rare (YAY, D.C., way to be unique) which also made it more difficult to set.

Before they sedated him, he let me know that he had to pee, really, really bad. They wouldn't let him get up, hence, I had to hold a little urinal with him laying down.

I think I traumatized him for life. Not because I saw his wee-wee. No, not that.

I was shaking, as my nerves are never good when traumatic shit is going down and his thing slipped out of the top of the urinal, so he proceeded to piss on him and me both. He's yelling at me at the top of his lungs, I'm trying to grab his thingie and shove it back into the top of the plastic thingie and managed to dump everything that had made it in the urinal all over his lap.

Yes. It was a damn mess.

I'm just glad he was on morphine and I hope the memory might be dim around the edges. God help me.

So, we had to cut his shirt (which piss had soaked) off of him, take the rest of his clothes off and clean him up, remove all the bedding, before we could settle him back down.

I really wish the nurse would have let me help him to the bathroom.

In the end, all the nurses and everyone in the hall way heard him yelling at me because my hand slipped. Yes, they got a good laugh out of it all.

And, honestly, reading this post, I think some type of comedy should be created based on the stupid shit that seems to constantly be happening to me.

I'm also trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to finish my job with a gimped up child that can't go to school in a splint AND how I'm supposed to start my new job on Monday when I have to get a cast slapped on him the same day?

Do you think it would be frowned upon if I brought D to work with me my first day on the job?

Proctology and the Lady With Stinky Hands

2010-02-03T07:50:00.001-08:00

"You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's. He's more particular." ~Robert Frost

Yesterday was a hellacious day.

I had to go for a physical, drug testing, fingerprinting and an orientation.

I was good during the majority of the orientation, but by the time the last speaker was talking, my eyes started to get heavy and my head was nodding off. Apparently, I don't do well when I have to sit for prolonged periods of time with nothing to keep my hands or brain busy.

I was sent to one of my new employer's physicians for a physical and everything was going fine there (I even bluffed my way through the eye exam - at least I think I did) and gave myself a big pat on the back for wearing underwear that day (and they actually matched my bra) when this lady comes in to give me a look over.

She looked in my ears, made sure my teeth were not rotting out and flipped up my gown to feel on my belly. I had only one issue with her.

When she stuck the tongue depressor in my mouth, her hands smelled like B-O. I don't know if she'd been feeling in some hairy guy's arm pits without gloves on or what, but it was disgusting.

My belly was already feeling kind of icky, as I'd been running all over God's green earth and had not had time to eat. When the smell hit my nose, I might've gagged a little. I'm sure she attributed it to the fact that she had a wooden stake half way down my throat, but Lord have mercy! She's extremely fortunate that I didn't vomit on her. (I wonder if she would've cleared me for work if I had?)

Now, I don't know what it is to work in the medical profession, nor do I have any interest in finding out. But for all of you guys out there with stronger stomachs than moi, please, please, please wash your hands with something that kills the horrible smells that you come into contact with.

Another thing I've been wondering.

My dad has got some serious butt hole issues, which he enjoys going into great detail right about the time I'm getting ready to eat dinner (that's when he usually calls). He lives in Colorado and travels the three hours to Denver to see a proctologist to find out why he's having a period out of his asshole.

My question is: What would possess someone to want to look at butt holes all day long?

Can this be normal? I mean, when you're doing your internship and you're choosing a specialty, what makes you settle on THAT? Any profession that has people regularly bringing in stool samples cannot be entertaining, right? Do you enjoy digging around in shit? Trying to figure out what that person ate based on the level of digestive breakdown? What is the draw?

Gynecology? I understand. Even if after you become a gynecologist, you realize that the majority of cooters you're going to be looking at is over weight, diseased, or massively stretched out, the fantasy of it all might lure you in.

Dermatology? Maybe you have a fascination with popping zits and you think squeezing pus all day in enjoyable. I know there are such people.

Certain folks even have feet fetishes, so I get that.

But proctology? It is beyond my ken.

Not the Cleaver's....or even the Griswold's.

2010-02-01T07:29:00.000-08:00

Have you ever met those kind of people that are totally inappropriate? Like they have no idea what constitutes being a normal, upright citizen? The one that walks like they have cerebral palsy in the mall, even when the only twitch in their body is the one in their brain that sends electric waves shooting through their neuro pathways which is the only logical conclusion as to why they would behave in such a douche bag, moronic way?

Well......I'm related to them.

Seriously.

I have a relative that cried for five days when his dog died, and I mean hysterically, but when his mother died, he snuck into her house that night and stole her refrigerator.

I have another relative that has five kids by three different men and was caught stripping across the county line in a real dump, where the lice in the toilet pole vault onto your genitals just to catch a ride out of the joint.

Another relative is a witch. Seriously, he (yes, he) believes that if he worships a pagan god, he will develop some kind of super powers like Samantha in Bewitched. If you think Southern Baptists are bad about preaching at you, wait until you get a load of this joker.

I have another relative that once put bullet holes into the back of our car because she was angry with my mom.

Another relative that moved to the mountains in Colorado, changed his name and doesn't wear anything other than flannel. I can't remember what he changed his name to, but its something like Rocky. Yeah, you heard me.

This one girl in the family will go to the beach, meet men and have sex with them while her husband secretly watches.

Another one is a child molester, then there is the con (wo)man, the evil one, the alcoholic, the pill addict and the schizophrenic one (she's actually entertaining to be around).....The list goes on and on. I have an enormous family, and while there are a few of them that I wish would drop dead, as it would make the world an entirely better place, I'm thankful for them.

Even if I don't want to use a wash cloth after them, or randomly tell strangers my maiden name as they might put two and two together and Lord knows who or what they will come up with.

I'm thankful for them because I guess I'm glad that they were the ones stuck with the crazy gene and my branch of the family seems to have escaped it (with the exception of my dad thinking my mom practices voo doo and my brother refusing to get a steady job).

I was talking with my mom a while back and she told me that in some way or another we are related to Lana Turner. All of her grandmother's family were Turner's and one of her aunt's had a room papered with memorabilia from Lana's life. I looked her up and it turns out the crazy gene was definitely fully in place through out her reign in Hollywood and beyond.

I'm just pissed that I didn't inherit her boobs.

Flower Child Wanna-Be

2010-01-29T12:58:00.001-08:00

Okay, so a little something about me....I always wanted to be a hippy girl, but I never got into smoking weed or sucking on acid.

I had this boyfriend once that loved huffing gas and would randomly pass out over gas cans, but that was as close as I got to the whole hippy movement.

Oh, yeah, and I once wore flowers in my hair, but I somehow don't think that really counts.

The idea of free love, platform shoes, make love not war sounds so awesome, doesn't it?

But when I really break it down, here's how it goes:

1. Free love = having sex with random strangers and oopsy daisy! I'm knocked up and don't know which pot head to blame.

2. Platform shoes = Really bad corns, balance issues and me towering at six foot two.

3. Make love, not war = smiling peacefully when what I really want to do is knock a biotch out, which in turn leads to repressed emotion, ulcers and many trips to gastroenterologists, psychologists and pharmacists, which then in turn means I'm strung out on pills, everything from anti-anxiety meds and pain pills which leaves me constipated and sends me back to another kind of doctor that ends in "ist".....Or I could go the organic route and self medicate...

So, really, I don't think I'm meant to be a hippy. I enjoy getting my hair "did" too much and I definitely eat meat, which most hippies don't, do they? And any type of clothing made with hemp would probably make my skin break out.

I got to thinking about the hippies because something I read made me think of my childhood summers. Most were spent in this little ghost town in Colorado, by the name of St. Elmo.

In this particular part of the state, there seems to be a lot of older people that have migrated from California and very much seem to be of the seventies era. Lots of long hair, flannel shirts, kerchiefs around their foreheads, flowing skirts and home made beads worn around necks and ankles. They are really pretty awesome.

Anyway, my dad is friends with a guy that owns The General Store (above), among several of the other remaining buildings in the town. But The General Store is definitely at the center of all the action, which is where he rents out ATV's, Jeeps and sells various antiques and touristy post cards, t-shirts and the like.

It's a busy place in the summer...

My first time there, I think I was around five years old and there was no running water on the mountain. Therefore, we used an outhouse and brushed out teeth in the river behind the cabin we always stayed in. We had to travel down the mountain for showers. I remember I once got a bug bite on my ass while in the process of going to the bathroom, so from that time on I would wave my ass in the air while swatting the air around it to keep from getting bitten. I'm sure it was a sight to behold.

By the time I was twelve, we had water! Yay! Then, I really began to enjoy the place. I'm not what you would call an outdoorsy kinda girl (although I love to fish and any water sport, I'm so there), so I really, really, really want to shower at night and flush when I use the little girls room.

I think I enjoyed the history of the place more than anything. The old saloon, the one room school house, and when I was little the mines weren't closed to the public, so we were able to explore and look for gold.

It was the one and only place I ever heard my mom fart. We were walking down Main Street, I might've been six, when she let out a little fart, which I still pick on her for to this day. My mom isn't the "let me let one rip" type, so I just get a kick out of the fact that she will still blush over a little gas she had twenty years ago.

But anyway, I haven't been back since I was twenty four, so I'm definitely due for a trip. I might go this summer and help out in the store.

A picture of my best friend and I my last trip there (she's the one with the big boobs, I'm the one with all the hair):

If you ever make it that way, make sure you swing in and tell Chris and Nora that Laurie says hi. They are two of the eight year-round residents in St. Elmo and nicer people couldn't be found.

T.M.I - I don't think Sharon Stone would be proud

2010-01-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

In honor of the fact that I'm not going to do too much more work today (anything), I thought that I would post a "t.m.i." story, as this seems to be the thing to do in some circles on Thursdays.

And as everyone else seems to be obsessed with "Aunt Flo", "Crimson Tide" and sitting on a nice "Merlot", I figured I would contribute my own full stop (period) story.

So, I was on about day five, which means I was at the very ass end and my auto drip was almost tapering off, hence, I wore a skirt.

Yes, I know....I know...I should've known better, especially as I was wearing some of my monthly undies and not any especially cute ones at that.

My only excuse for what comes next is I forgot. Like a poor Alzheimer's patient, my brain cells were not firing at full capacity and it just SLIPPED-MY-MIND.

I'm sitting on the patio with my husband. My poor, poor husband.

"Let me see."

"See what?"

"Well, you're wearing that little skirt. Let me see."

So, I showed him. I thought he was going to fall outta his chair, he jerked away so fast.

"Shit, Laurie! That's not funny!"

And I still didn't remember, so I bent over to see what the hell he was talking about and realized that I'm wearing some of my very much lived in undies.

Yes, they were stained.

Okay, so maybe I'm gross and the only girl that has a pair of stained up undies, but for you guys out there, blood REALLY doesn't come out. Unless you catch it right away and soak them. Which my husband doesn't enjoy either. And frankly, neither do I. You go to brush your teeth and see some funky panties marinating in the bathroom sink. Not cute.

Anyway, I don't wear my pretty panties while the crimson wave is riding the waves out of my uterus. And, to give myself a little credit, that morning in particular, I had gotten dressed in minimal light, as I was trying to be sensitive to the hubby that was still sleeping. So I just didn't realize that I had grabbed probably the ugliest, most stained panties in the drawer. All I knew, they had an ass attached and that was good enough for me.

So, I might've scarred him. That's been about a year ago, and he has yet to ask for a peek up my skirt since.

I don't think Sharon Stone would be proud, but that's just a wild guess.

Retro Act

2010-01-28T05:31:00.000-08:00

So, I have just over a week left at my job, which means I don't have a whole lot of time to get my stuff in order, so instead of taking the time to write one of my insightful, witty and intelligent posts, I figured I would post something from an older blog, which will reveal a little bit more of my evil self......We know each other well enough now, so I'm hoping you won't judge too harshly.

Ugly Kids

Okay, so the way I see it, I may be horrible, but I just say what everyone else is thinking.......

The other day, I'm standing with a couple of people I know (acquaintances, really....), when this really ugly kid, maybe twelve, goes walking by....

He was a big kid, which if you know me, isn't why I thought he was ugly....(I always thought the chunky kids in school were the cutest).....He had puffy red hair, extremely curly, which hadn't been combed in God knows how long, freckles everywhere, and man, the total package together really made me feel for him. I mean, Lord have mercy, fat, curly red hair, bad teeth and absolutely no fashion sense (shaking my head).

But it gets worse....

Next thing I know, there's ANOTHER ONE.

His identical twin, and I'm like holy crap! Their poor mother, to have not one, but two of those suckers running around!!! And of course, me being me, I couldn't let it just slide by. Oh, no.

"Jesus Christ, look at those ugly kids..... Holy shit!"

Everyone just kind of looked at me for a second, but then they couldn't help but laugh because, for real, those have got to be the ugliest twins on the planet....

I know. I'm going to hell.

At the very least, I'm going to have grand kids that look like they've hit every branch on the way down the ugly tree.

Squealed Like I Was Watching the Jonas Brothers

2010-01-26T06:24:00.001-08:00

Okay, so I heard something that is so totally awesome, I almost squealed like a thirteen year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert this morning.

For real.

Okay, for those of you that don't know, I'm kind of in love with the show True Blood. Yeah, yeah, keep your wise ass remarks to yourself. All I've got to say is, HBO and naked vampires. That's the best defense I have.

Especially when you might be a little in love with one of them.....

May I present Alexander Skarsgard:

6'4" of finely sculpted flesh and blood....

(no, I have not cyber stalked him or anything crazy like that....pshhh......but, for the record, I don't know what the hell he sees in that old hag Kate Bosworth - eat a cheeseburger already!)

(Is it bad that I searched the web for a really bad pic and this is one of the worst that I found?)

Anywayz....as I was saying. My news.

In season three of True Blood, which doesn't start until June (the lazy assholes), Alexander Skarsgard is supposed to be naked a lot more often! Isn't this awesome news? Did it make you squeal? I'll have you know that he was voted Sweden's sexiest man for five straight years, so it's not just me that finds him unbelievable sexy, but an entire country of people.

And if that doesn't do it for you, do not forget the hot Aussie Ryan Kwanten:

There is plenty of hot eye candy, both of the male and female variety, so I highly recommend you catch up, that way come June, you know what the hell is going on.

Oh, and besides all the chiseled, tanned and gorgeous flesh on display, it is surprisingly funny. And there is usually a plot. Two thumbs up.

Two Weeks Notice

2010-01-25T07:15:00.000-08:00

I just gave notice. My two week notice, that is.

I'm relieved, a little sad and a lot hopeful. My boss was awesome about the whole thing. Now I wonder why I dreaded it all weekend......

So, I'm stirring up my life. I've decided that I'm not going to be one of those people that sit around waiting for things to happen to them, or coasting through some of the best days of my life, my prime, when my intelligence is equal to my physical health and I might be able to make a real difference. If not world wide, at least in my little section of it.

I don't want to tell my grandchildren one day that I sat behind a desk for my entire working career. Wouldn't you rather know things about your grandmother that interest you? Things that matter?

My mom's mother passed away when I was eight, so all I really remember about her was playing penny poker with some of her "friends" . She would dice up a tomato and salt and pepper it for a snack. There was also a little box that I ran across while visiting once that contained some terribly life-like dog shit. And this is what I really remember about her. Sad, right?

We lost my dad's mom, whom I called "Granny" two years ago this summer. My dad still has a hard time with it and can't speak of her without tears sneaking up on him.

My Granny was a real firecracker. One of the last times I saw her, she lectured me on how important it was to have sex with my husband on a regular basis. She said "Never forget the importance of sex!" At my blush, she continued on, "I mean it! I'm an old woman, but I wasn't always!"

I remember much more about her. She kept one of those old fashioned douche bags hanging on the back of her bathroom door. I was about twelve before I realized what it was, and she gave me another piece of advice. "Laurie, you must always keep you tootie clean!" Yes, she said this to me and I wanted to die.

Granny was married three different times, but it all happened before I was born. She came from a really good family, but married unwisely. All three times. She ended up divorcing all of them, and while I don't know a whole lot about the first and last, the second one was a real son of a bitch, by all accounts. He is my Grandpa, although I never laid eyes on him and he died when I was sixteen, so it seems it worked out well in the end. I remember my Granny telling me that there wasn't a man alive worth putting up with after all she had been through. She meant it, as any time some older gentleman would ask her on a date, she would tell him to "Go to hell". Seriously.

She had ten children and while most of them are dumb asses in one fashion or another, they all loved their momma. She was their champion, no matter how badly any of them screwed up, Granny could find some reason to excuse them. Got caught drinking and driving? Well, that stupid bartender shouldn't have served him as much as he did. Spazzed out on prescription drugs? Well, you know she has issues, it's not her fault. I could go on and on, as I've got a ton of stories a ton more scandalous, but you get the picture.

As one of her many, many grandchildren, I was subject to her unconditional love and her unsolicited advice.

She always smelled of Jergen's lotion and applied it subconsciously to her legs. Her face was a myriad of lines and wrinkles, but she had the most beautiful legs I've ever seen on an old woman. They were always smooth and shiny, right up until the day she died. She once told me to not forget about my face when applying lotion. I religiously apply lotion to my entire body several times a day in her memory.

My mom and her were really close, even though it was my dad's mom. I once went to go see her and told her my mom couldn't make it, as she wasn't feeling well and looked awful. She said, "When she was young and a fox, she didn't know it, but now that she's old and a hound, she's well aware of it." She probably had it liberally sprinkled with lots of g-d's and the eff word, as that was her way. (I can't say either of those words while discussing my grandma. It just doesn't seem right, even if she cursed worse than a sailor.)

Anyway, the point to this post... When my future grandchildren think of me, I want it to be with a sense of adventure, as well as the little details that make up who I am as a person.

I remember my Granny as being not very active. I think she was really old long before her age crept up. She was tired and didn't have the energy to do more than play bingo and watch Felicity on television (she thought I looked JUST LIKE Keri Russell....I heard this over and over and over).

The definition of blind love:

Keri Russell:

Me:

While I thought she was a remarkable person, brave enough to tell not one, not two, but three piece of shit husbands to kiss her ass and proceed to raise ten children on her own, I also think that when they were grown, she just...stopped. Stopped everything.

I want to have a purpose that doesn't involve my children. Do I love them? More than my soul can hold. But I want...more.....I want to be their mother, and my husbands wife, and my parent's daughter, but I also just want to be me. Laurie, the one that looks like Laurie, the one that makes her choices based on what Laurie wants, the one that doesn't plan every vacation around when and where everyone else wants to go. Me. That's all.

I know it sounds selfish, but looking at the big picture, I think I'm going to be better in all categories if I save a little piece of me, something that will thrive for decades after my children are raised and my grandkids are born. When my grandkids sit and write a blog about the influence my presence had in their life, I want it to be more.

So, I change career's in two weeks. To something meaningful, if not exactly lucrative. I hope this will be the start of me branching out more, in all areas of my life.

I Should've Been A Band Geek......

2010-01-21T07:56:00.000-08:00

One of my great pleasures in life is music.

Do I believe that rock 'n roll can save your soul? Hell, yeah I do.

I don't have a musically talented bone in my body. I can't sing (although I'm certainly not shy about doing a little kareoke), I don't play any instruments (although I do have an entire drum set and several guitars in my house...don't ask), and writing music holds zero interest for me (Taylor Swift can keep it). But there is something about it...

When you enter my car, you never know if you're going to be blasted with a little Free Bird, or Dolly Parton's rendition of I Will Always Love You. I enjoy Elton John, occasionally a little Eminem (I find him humorous), know every song on Metallica's Black album by heart, and I truly do not believe George Strait has recorded a song that I don't enjoy.

There are radios located all over my house, along with televisions, which are usually tuned to some type of music station. I'm a complete idiot when it comes to network television. I have no idea what comes on when and I frankly don't care. There are a handful of shows that I've seen every episode of, mostly on dvd when the next season is being aired. I'm not what you would call a patient person, so I can't stand to be left hanging, wondering for a full week if someone is going to die or have sex. I'll wait for the season to go on sale, thank you very much. But music....there's instant gratification to be found it that.

We have a radio system in the garage and sometimes, late at night, I'll go out and lay in the basketball court and watch the stars while some station plays oldies. My husband would probably think I'm on something if he ever caught me doing this, but there is something about the sounds of that music from long ago that reverberate through my head and chest and takes me somewhere else.

Maybe the sound of Ella Fitzgerald singing so beautifully in her emotion laced voice, and Louis Armstrong....or the sincerity to be heard in some of country music's legends...Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty, Lorretta Lynn...

One thing that I hope to leave my children with is the love of music.

Music can take you places, just as books will. Sometimes, a certain song will come on and it will bring me back to a moment that I had long forgotten, sometimes a song will come on and I'll envision myself somewhere far from where my physical form sits. Or maybe, the perfect words have been put to music and it will give me a feeling of love for my husband, or a sad song will come on and a tear will come from somewhere that I forgot existed. Music is powerful and it's one of my great loves.

Child Please

2010-01-19T08:47:00.000-08:00

I am superficial, flighty, and an all around pain in the ass. My dad thanks my husband on a regular basis for taking me off of his hands.

You know what their problem with me is? I've finally figured it out.

I'm too smart for them. When it comes to arguing, I am the QUEEN. Even if I'm wrong, I will some how make it sound like I'm right. It's my very own super power.

So, they sit together when my dad is visiting (which he currently is), and will mumble under their breaths when I've made my point.

Sometimes, I will argue a point for so long and so vehemently, that I honestly forget what the original argument was about. But it's okay. I have generally talked/reasoned (argued/bullied, but whatever) them into submission by this point that they don't even catch the puzzled look that I know must cross my face when I try to figure out what the conversation was actually about.

Case in point:

Me: Can you believe that Chad Johnson legally changed his name to Ochocinco?

Hubby: He did not. That was just a publicity stunt a while back.

Me: Yes, he did. I saw it on Hard Knocks and thats the name he has on the back of his jersey.

Hubby: Then it must've been a practice jersey.

Me: Honey, you're such an idiot. I'll show you.

So, I then head to the computer room, look him up on Wiki, which we all know is the same as being written in stone, show hubby and prove him wrong. (I then checked the Bengal's website to see what his name was listed as on the roster and I really was right....which I knew all along, of course.)

Anyway, you'd think he would learn not to argue with me.

And to stray away from the subject (my flightiness showing through), I think my new favorite saying is "Child, please", which according to none other than the guy formerly known as Chad Johnson means "fuck you" without actually saying it.

Hard Knocks S05E01 - Chad Ochocinco: "Child Please"
Uploaded by thegame91. - Sitcom, sketch, and standup comedy videos.

This could come in handy, donchu think?

Bad Boys vs. Good Guys?

2010-01-18T10:32:00.001-08:00

This is a long running debate among women. Which do you prefer? And what makes both?

In Victorian romance novels, reformed rakes supposedly make the best husbands. But hello?? This is reality, not some prose penned by a middle aged woman with fantasies of some dashing ladies man sweeping them off their feet. Of said man being captivated by their shining eyes and dewy skin. Where only their lovemaking can satisfy the hunger of a swarthy, handsome and striking beast. GIVE ME A BREAK.

Are there men with the beauty to make the hearts of the masses skip a beat? Yes. Romance covers are not always paintings of imagined beauty, but sometimes based on fact.

Exhibit A: Nathan Kamp

However, just because there are these rare freaks of nature, does not necessarily mean you should hold out for a pretty face. Just think of all the potential baggage that comes along with someone such as this:

1. Crazy exes that may pull a Glenn Close and boil any future offsprings bunny rabbit.

2. The possibility of offspring showing up willy nilly from them spreading it around during their "sowing their wild oats" decade.

3. Bathroom time.

4. Shopping budget.

5. Closet space.

I have a theory. I don't know for sure, as I'm very happily married to a very attractive man, but here it goes.

Ladies, if you're single, and out looking for a good time, the bad boy is the way to go. But keep your expectations where they belong. Low. They should not exceed the level of more than a good time in bed. And for God's sake, cover it up. Do not expect a call from this person any time soon, if ever. Do not fantasize about how beautiful your future children will be. Forget where they live, if they actually brought you home with them. You should never do a drive-by on a man like this, as you are setting yourself up for heartbreak. (Yes, men. Women are truly crazy enough to do this kind of crap.) Do not stalk their facebook page, or frequent their hang outs, hoping against hope that your va-jay-jay captivated them into submission.

I don't care how pretty you think you are. You are one of many pretty faces, beautiful bodies, that have seen the interior of his pants. Trust me on this. I know people.

Now, the good guy. Ladies, think more Matt Damon rather than Colin Farrell.

Is he as debonair, suave and sexy as the bad boy?

No. Good guys out there, don't fool yourselves. The sex appeal that you have is not where your treasure center is housed. Huh, uh. It is in the very things you probably think are boring. Your dependability, your intelligence, opening a door for a lady, sending flowers, calling her when you're going to be late, those are the things that make husband material.

(Plus, Matt Damon is still hot.)

Sure, the bad boys out there might think it is because you're whipped, when in reality, you have the situation whipped.

You can go out with your friends without your phone ringing off the hook from your super jealous, overly suspicious gal pal harassing you until you're tempted to bust your phone against the wall. And, unlike your buddy, the one with the hair gel and two seater sports car, you don't have to bust your ass trying to get a piece of ass, when your girl is snuggled up in bed, warm and smelling of your favorite scent, just waiting for you to get home, where there is no need to cover it up for fear of contracting something that will make your genitals fall off.

If your buddy scores, he might as well look at it as a box of chocolates, without the expected sweetness, unless it's her overly strong cheap perfume. He never knows what he is going to get. As he goes to unwrap her, he might need to pull off a few girdles that are holding a lot of her in and out of sight in her street clothes and while making love, close his eyes and pretend she is his high school sweetheart that is now married and hasn't given him a second thought in the last decade.

Good guys, don't fool yourselves into thinking it would be better if you were an asshole. Yes, some women have an idiotic view on what is romantic. Some feed off of being treated like shit, disappointed and heart broken, never knowing if every bump in her nether regions is the latest "gift" her bad boy has brought to her. But is this the type of woman you want to carry your children in her womb? Wouldn't you rather have a woman that has a very high expectation on how she should be treated?

One of my high school friends put up with this guy year after year, catching him fooling around time after time. He was good looking, drove a nice car and loved the ladies. One day, about three months after giving birth, my friend noticed an odor. Yes, an odor. Turns out she had three s.t.d.'s. Thankfully, all were treatable, but she let him convince her that she must've been carrying those little gems around for more than a year, as he hadn't been unfaithful since before she was pregnant. I couldn't believe it when she told me this. Did she really think she could've went through pregnancy, all of those examinations, and this not be discovered? She buried her head in the sand, had a few more children, and is now going through a divorce.

Don't wait for an odor to show up, ladies.

Have a little more self worth and marry the good guy.

Eighties Ladies

2010-01-16T04:26:00.000-08:00

Were women better in the eighties? Families in general?

My mom's generation of women were something else. I remember them flipping their hair and wearing shorty shorts and tight tank tops to P.T.A. meetings, exercising while wearing their leg warmers and laying out in the sun in their string bikinis...

I think I was four years old when I first entered the girlscouts organization, meeting all these little girls, most of whom I still keep in touch with today. All of our mom's were involved and attended every single meeting, show, cookie sale that was arranged. Therefore, my mom knew their mom's, which made sleepovers a lot more likely than in today's times.

We would giggle over Michael Jackson videos, knew all of Debbie Gibson's songs and New Kids on the Block made 99% of our little hearts beat faster.

I was raised in a small town. By small, I mean, one caution light, located in front of the only school and across the street was a pizza parlor, next to the grocery and feed store. We also had a video store, where we would head after eating pizza on a Friday night and rent Lean On Me, The Goonies or if we were feeling really wild, Risky Business or Nightmare on Elm Street. We had our bikes with the pink tassels, our pony tails held with scrunchies and our whole lives ahead of us.

This was before the days when we were labeled the slut, the tom boy, the princess or the smart one. We loved one another and our moms made sure that our Keds were clean before we went to school. It was a wonderful time to be a child.

If we were playing in the street, we had to be in before the second street light came on, or we knew our asses were grass and our moms the lawnmower.

There was a little tiny bait shop before the edge of town where we would go and buy Dorito's and try to make a nickel into a little cup inside of a water jug to win a Yoo Hoo. We knew who had the best pools, a Nintendo or Sega with the best games and getting a game of kickball on a Saturday in the field across from K's house was a regular occurrence.

And at the center of all this were our moms. K's mom once saved me from drowning when I thought I had mastered the doggie paddle when I was five and had ran around the block to show her.

My mom was the cool mom. She drove a Trans Am and wasn't afraid of doing burn outs down the street. Once, she brought us to a neighboring town, a much larger town, and we went egging. Yes, egging. We missed more than we hit, as it was mostly road signs we were aiming at, but it was so FUN.

P.T.A. meetings were not dreaded events. It was almost like a town meeting, where all of our parents went to socialize, drink punch and we didn't have issues about prayer in school. If you went to church, a synagogue or temple, or chose to refrain completely, no one cared. At all. Once, my dad showed up in a shirt that said "Party Naked" on it. It was accidental, but it really livened things up.

I wish my kids could have experienced it. Now, I'm on the P.T.A committee and there are a handful, literally, of other parents involved. Everyone else is faculty. My boys play baseball and every year, they might have two other kids that have been on their teams in the past on the rosters. If they want to ride their bikes, I'm on the front porch, watching with an eagle eye, as we have multiple sexual offenders that live in a neighborhood not even a mile away.

Anyway, for your amusement factor, here is my Kindergarten class picture. I'm in the middle row, second from the right:

Everyone is a Critic

2010-01-14T13:07:00.000-08:00

I'm not what you would expect. I know, I know, some people completely rely on their first impressions, but I've got to say that they are usually false. And that also makes me a hypocrite. Let me explain.

You know when you're out with your friends (this may only apply to the ladies), say you have a group of three or more and drinks have been flowing and you're having a great time and in walks THAT group....The group of girls that just make you want to roll your eyes...

Usually, all of them are wearing mini dresses, too high high heels, all of them carrying fake Prada, Coach or Dolce & Gabbana bags. And I make a snap judgement....

Daddy issues, desperately seeking attention and praying for acceptance from older men, preferably with money and handsome in a Richard Gere, Pretty Woman sort of way.

Or when you're at the beach and someone in a ghastly speedo walks by and I automatically think they must be from Europe (no offense to my European friends out there, you know who you are).

Or when a big truck with a rebel flag displayed across the hood pulls up at the gas station, out steps this guy with a John Deere ball cap, wranglers, Justin boots and a big wad of chew and I automatically think his name is "Bubba".

Harsh, huh?

But to be fair, I'm judged just as harshly. I know, as I've been told on multiple occasions what many of my friend's first impressions of me usually are (after they get to know me, of course, and their original ideas are smashed to smithereens). They think....wait for it...here it comes...

That I'm a stuck up bitch.

Yes, it's true.....not that I'm a stuck up bitch...but...you know what I mean.

And I can see where many would think that, what with my great beauty and completely flawless fashion sense....Kidding, kidding....

I tend to be quiet, and I dress conservatively (as in, if my pants are tight, I'm wearing a turtle neck, if my shirt is tight, I've got on loose boyfriend pants, blazers are wonderful and if my heel is over 3", I'm swaying around at about six one, so I avoid excessively tall heels and stick to low heeled boots (unless I'm really dressing up, then the taller the better). I know. I sound boring. But something about me makes people think that I think I'm too good to socialize with them. I don't get it, and it couldn't be further from the truth.

So, my advice is this:

Exercise caution when passing out snap judgements about people. Some of my really good friends wouldn't be my friends if they would've stuck to their first impressions. It took a little charm (and a lot of tequila) but I eventually wormed my way into their hearts.

So I am determined to work on my tendency to judge others right off the bat. I wouldn't call it a New Year's resolution, as I don't believe in them, and think that if you set them, you're pretty much setting yourself up for failure, but it's definitely a goal I have. I want to be nicer. I'm not sure if that's possible, but I'm willing to try. However, I definitely don't want to be known as the perky cheerleader type, either. It's a balancing act....and in case you guys didn't read before, I'm not exactly coordinated.

On that note, here is a video about not judging too quickly.

Ennui and The O.C.

2010-01-14T06:08:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm one day away from the weekend and the anticipation is building. I'm so excited I could do the Ren and Stimpy dance.

Big plans, you ask? Why, no. Well, then what are you so excited about?

Other than a banquet that I have to attend on Saturday night (which I'm dreading, but I do get to dress up for) I plan on doing nothing but watching Season 3 of The OC allllll weekend long.

Exciting, huh?

Lying around, killing brain cells by immersing myself in bad dialogue, but hot bodied men, while eating buttery popcorn in my comfy pajamas and my fluffy socks, only breaking to pee, sounds completely awesome as I sit at my desk, where I have a mountain of work and no drive to see it done. It's gonna be bliss.

Can you have a midlife crisis at twenty nine? Or is there another word for it? I feel too young to be so settled and too old to pretend I have no sense or sense of consequences. It's a really horrible feeling.

What am I working towards? A house? I have that. A husband that loves me? Check. Procreating? Twice. Both of which are more than half grown and on their way to the exciting times in their lives (and I'm not one of those freakish parents that wants to live vicariously through their offspring). So.....what now?

I'm seriously considering a change in career. Its a radical change, going into a position that pays considerably less than I'm making now, more aggravation in certain factors but A LOT more challenging and hopefully, fulfilling. If everything works out, within the next couple of months I'll be somewhat entertained at work, even if I'm the new low man (woman) on the totem pole.

I wonder if this is some kind of early midlife..... Most people my age are getting married, maybe have a toddler or two and are struggling to pay their mortgage. I've been married since I was eighteen and have two boys that are sprouting body hair.

My life is wonderful. I have awesome friends, an even better family and I'm pretty much set. But now, I wonder if I'm just supposed to coast my way through the rest of my life. What do you do when you have met what you thought were your life's goals? Do you just sit back and enjoy it? That's boring...and it gets to the point where you want to stir shit up just to see where it all falls. Not healthy, I'm thinking.

Look at me bitch because I'm not starving, I'm employed, have a wonderful husband and two healthy kids that keep me on my toes. How petty can a person get? If this ennui and tedium drags on, I'm sure we'll see me sink to a new level.

Holy Mimosa!

2010-01-08T08:02:00.001-08:00

Okay, so despite what some of you might think, I did attend prom (and I wasn't pregnant or anything) and I danced and gossiped and maybe even had a little to drink (I don't really remember).

I remember wearing this red satin dress, something like this:

except my hair and boobs were smaller, and there were faux diamonds on the spagetti straps. And my dress might've been a tad shorter on me than this one.

Anyway, I saw a picture online of this horrific dress and it made me wonder what in the hell people are thinking when choosing their outfits.

So I've compiled a list of some of the worst prom outfits that I could find. Just a few of them below:

This "dress" (thing, contraption, etc.)stands up all by itself!

This has been drescribed as a "ghetto" prom dress...all I can say is, "Girl, donchu know you supposed to get knocked up ON prom night?"

Like this girl. She is definitely on schedule:

This honestly hurts my eyes..even if you're a "pink" kind of girl, this is a little toooooo much:

And here's a few people that have friends with the same bad taste as themselves:

Wow, and God bless their little hearts....you know not a one of these girls had a date TO knock them up:

And these next two at least have a theme, right?

Holy mimosa...damn rednecks:

Robert E. Lee would be so proud......

Moral of the story here.....hell, there is no moral, other than I enjoy pointing at people and making fun of them.

Happy Friday everyone!

Time Marches On

2010-01-07T17:55:00.000-08:00

Don't you just love looking back at old photos? Here's a few of mine.

I was maybe 23 in that one.

This one, I was more like 25 and even though the color has been messed with, my hair was red....yes, red...

And finally, one that looks like me now....This one was taken in Vegas and I was sick, which is convenient, as I am even now getting over a sinus infection.

I think I'm just going to pull a Britney next and shave it all off. It'll probably beat the perky pony tail I was rocking in the first picture, hmmmm?

There's Poo In My Diet Coke

2010-01-07T07:58:00.000-08:00

I need to stop listening to the radio on my way to work....

My morning.....

I wake up at five fifteen, work out for an hour, shower, apply make up, flat iron my hair and head out the door ten minutes early so that I can stop and get me a horribly unhealthy breakfast at a fast food joint.

No sooner am I pulling out of the drive-thru, take a big swig of my diet coke, the lady on the station I'm listening to says that a group of microbiologists did a study on soft drinks from various restaurants. Their findings: 48% of the drinks tested contained fecal material.....Yes, fecal material, which is poo. Poo.

So, I put the drink in my cup holder and change the station. Yes, I am a great believer in what I don't know, won't hurt me, so I don't want to hear anymore about their "studies". And the thought crosses my mind that it would suck to be a microbiologist.

The station that I tuned into were discussing the things that go on in schools in our area, with kids calling in anonymously and disclosing all kinds of disturbing incidents.

One caller, a twelve year old girl, said that in one day in class, they kept hearing shouts and the wall getting hit, so the teacher sent a student to go investigate. Why she didn't get off her lazy ass and do it herself, I'm not sure. Apparently the class abuts up to the girls restroom and she went in and saw two students banging (her words, not mine), then headed back to class and told the teacher it was someone in the hallways, but not a big deal. She then went on to say that the fourteen year old girl that was participating is now pregnant.

There were multiple disturbing stories, many about drug use, some about weapons in school, but this one just blew me away.

A guy that graduated last year called in and said that one morning, before home room class (first period) a group of students were selling tickets to an event, which was to occur in between fifth and sixth periods somewhere on campus (I can't remember where, probably a bathroom). The event: Tickets to watch a girl lose her virginity. Yes, you read that right. The girl, apparently willing, was going to make one of the most memorable milestones in a woman's life a spectacle that could be viewed for five bucks. Unbelievable. After the young man called in, the dj's said that they were receiving multiple texts from their listening audience confirming that this had really happened. The school names were not being announced, but the caller said that this was at an upscale boarding school, and I'll just go a head and tell you, I live near Orlando, Florida, so if they say "upscale", I'm inclined to believe them.

Oh my God. Right?

For those of you not in the know, I was a real hillbilly (not really) by giving birth at sixteen. Yes, sixteen. But at least my child was not conceived on a school campus or in front of a crowd. We did it in the front seat of my boyfriends truck in an orange grove. Tons classier, right?

Now, looking back, I wonder what in the world I was thinking. I was an honor student, taking senior classes my first year of high school, so I was intelligent enough to know what happens when you have unprotected sex. But I was invincible. Me? Pregnant? No way. Until.....Yes way...And it was terrifying. But I was lucky. M was one hell of a kid, and he has turned into one hell of a man. We made it work, even though it was hard and we didn't have a lot of help, as both our families were determined we raise our own child. Radical idea, huh? He worked two jobs and I eventually finished school, went to college and M was promoted to vice president of his family business. It was okay. Fairy tale? No. Ideal? Hell no.

I wonder sometimes what it is that makes kids believe that their world is protected. Go to a party and get so drunk you can barely walk, then proceed to get behind the wheel and drive balls to the wall as though there is no tomorrow? Have indiscriminate sex in a bathroom stall at school, get pregnant and at fourteen be unsure who your baby's father is? Or have an HIV test come up positive? Snort that first line in your prep school and get addicted? These things would never happen...Right? Right?

Most of these things have been around for a long time, at least through my adolescent and teenage years, so even though I was bright, intelligent and had my future mapped out like an old time explorer, sometimes plans are derailed by the very quality that makes being a teenager so exhilarating.

It is ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. Until you know better, everything that seems enjoyable IS enjoyable. For example, that diet coke I was sipping on this morning. Until I realized that there was a nearly fifty/fifty chance there was shit in my drink, it tasted pretty damn good.

Like I said, tomorrow I'm plugging in my ipod.

Blacklisted Journalist and Their Stupid Headlines

2010-01-05T11:33:00.001-08:00

I wonder who was responsible for hiring, not just the writers, but their editors, too? Some of these could be fake, as I pulled them from the internet, but most looked pretty legitimate, which is pretty scary, as these are the people we rely on to bring us news from around the world....well, them and Fox news, of course. Lord knows, they also tell nothing but the truth........

Math book used in local classroom.

Santa Claus suspended for ho comment.

Utah Poison Control Center reminds everyone not to take poison.

County to pay $250,000.00 to advertise lack of funds.

Condom truck tips, Spills load.

Federal Agents Raid Gunshop, Find Weapons.

Meeting on Open Meetings is Closed.

Hippo eats dwarf.

Police Find Crack in UK

Cops arrest white woman on warrant for black man.

Local child wins gun from fundraiser.

Caskets found as workers demolish mausoleum.

Alton attorney accidentally sues himself.

Tiger Woods plays with own balls, Nike says.

One armed man applauds the kindness of strangers.

City unsure why sewer smells.

A-Rod goes deep - Wang hurt.

Scott wants head job.

Diana was still alive hours before she died.

Man eats underwear to beat Breathalyzer.

Deer with big rack female, it turns out.

Sewage spill kills fish but water safe to drink.

Students cook and serve grandparents.

17 remain dead in morgue shooting spree.

Tight end returns after colon surgery.

Accused of tossing taco, teen jailed.

Fish need water, feds say.

Man sues software company for making computer too fast.

Ruler can't measure Johnson's impact.

Nudist fight erection of towers near Wreck Beach.

And something that is completely inappropriate (in the opinion of someone that matters not a whit):

Caution! Bad Facial Hair.....

2010-01-04T13:11:00.001-08:00

Is it just me, or does bad facial hair drive you crazy? I mean seriously. You wake up in the morning, hopefully brush your teeth, and what? You never glance in the mirror? You don't see that it looks like a slightly overly bushy cooter patch is growing on your chin?

It should be illegal.

The fact that men can walk down the street with these disturbing curly cues hanging from their chin, cheeks and upper lips and feel completely confident about it is also another reason men and women are glaringly different from one another. If I ever find a stray hair, or I know that my eyebrows are looking a little unkempt, it bothers me until I can get to the spa to be waxed or pluck them out in my own bathroom. Yes, pluck. I know it's so 2000 late, but my hair is blond and they will not guarantee laser hair removal on light colored hair. Assholes.

Anyhow......

There are certain man types that can pull off a beard.

Example: Dr. McSteamy aka Eric Dane

He is one fine specimen to show as an example of what a sexy beard should look like. I know, I know...He's into menage a trios' and coke (allegedly), but his wife doesn't seem to mind.....

A really bad example of inappropriate facial hair: Jonathan Rhys Meyers

Someone referred to this as the "Dirty Sanchez", which curious little me didn't know what it was, so I looked it up in the urban dictionary. Stomach contents beware.

Just to show you how awesome he is capable of looking, here you go:

Men! Grow your facial hair cautiously! Even if you think you're hot, sometimes it just doesn't matter....

Cold Day In The South

2010-01-04T06:59:00.000-08:00

I'm here. At work. Again.

Last years resolution went to shit. I was supposed to win the lottery, that way I could stay in bed on mornings when the temperature was literally FREEZING. Yes, freezing. I live in Florida. It's supposed to be tropical here, right? Aren't we called "The Sunshine State"? Sure, the sun IS technically shining, but it was 32 F degrees on my temperature gauge when I pulled into work this morning. My blood is not made to withstand this crap.

You know what I find funny? The newscasters are constantly recycling stories on slow news days, and it never seems to get old to them to go out to the local beaches and videotape the poor tourists that have only packed shorts this time of year.

I wonder if, just because they live in the arctic North (or anywhere above Florida's state line) they think it never gets cold here? It's truly amazing how unprepared these people are. You see them standing there with the reporter (who is wearing a scarf, gloves and furry hat as though we are in Antarctica) in their shorts, knee high socks and fag packs, the end of their noses turning scarlet and laughing because the fools back home are dealing with temps that are hovering around zero. Do they not see the irony? In their ugly shorts, Florida sweatshirt that they spent too much money on and crocs, there will be no intelligence prizes handed out. Dumb asses.

A Pissing Christmas Tree

2010-01-01T18:16:00.000-08:00

You know you're getting old when you attend several parties on New Years, you're home by one without the slightest buzz and wake up and rearrange your living room.

I took my Christmas tree down this morning all by myself. I should've waited for my husband to roll his ass out of bed to help, as this joker was nearly ten foot tall and shedding all over the damn place. I climbed up on a chair and grabbed it by the top and tilted it over, then proceeded to drag it towards the sliding glass door, which opens up to our back patio. There must've been a million pine needles (is that what they're called?) all over the damn place and the tree was so big I could barely get it to squeeze out of the door. I'm knocking over patio furniture to get it into the back yard, but finally, there it lay. Our ginormous effing Christmas tree, that if I'm honest, was probably the ugliest damn tree we've had since our first Charlie Brown Christmas together. That year we bought a ten dollar tree from the Dollar Store and a more pathetic "tree" you've never seen. And then...

I walk back inside to get the vacuum, knowing it's going to take me about an hour to get the shit up, and even then I'll probably still be finding them in the living room until August, when I realize my mistake...

There was still water in the tree stand...so my Christmas tree has pissed all over my living room. A trail of water is leading all the way through my living room, across my back patio and into the yard. I'm a dumb ass.

And in case you don't remember, I'm sick, so I'm sneezing and snotting throughout this entire process.

I was going to make a New Year's resolution to bitch less, but in this post, it might be a little redundant. And a big, fat, unadulterated lie.

Happy New Year, everyone! Please be safe out there and dodge all the idiots.

Happy Effin' New Year

2009-12-30T08:45:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, right before lunch, I started to feel something.....something that made me stop and say "Huh?"

Turns out I'm sick....for real sick. Running a fever, snotting, eyes watering, body aching. Which I've got to say is bullshit. Seriously. And I'll tell you why.

I have the next five days off of work. Yes. FIVE DAYS STRAIGHT. And I'm sick. I have three parties I'm supposed to attend tomorrow and I'm sick. Why couldn't this happen next Monday? When I can legitimately call in sick to work? Can somebody answer me that?

My husband said this morning, as I'm lying in bed watching my fifth episode of Grey's Anatomy of the day, "We have plans tomorrow, so of course you're sick." Asshole.

But he does have a point.

Two years ago, we went to Vegas. Guess who was so sick, I could barely walk? And this past summer, we went to New York. Who came down with a serious sinus infection? Yep. It was me.

It's almost as though my body goes into some sort of rejection any time fun is introduced to it.

So here I am, half way into my first day off of an extremely long weekend, one that I had all these plans of getting wasted and dancing on a table somewhere, and I've sneezed about twenty times in the short amount of time it's taken me to type this post. And my nose is chapped. Already.

And to top it all off, I'm on my period.

WTF? Happy effin' New Year to me.....

The Little Things

2009-12-29T12:53:00.000-08:00

One of the girls at work said that she just gets a thrill inside when she goes into the bathroom and all the stalls are freshly clean, blue stuff in the bowl and she knows she's the first ass to sit on the clean toilet. This is one of the little things in life that brings her joy.

Here's a few of my things (not in any particular order):

When you go to open a new movie or dvd and that tape on the edge peels off in one strip.

When you wake up in the morning and put your hair in a pony tail and you get the PERFECT pony tail.

When you run into someone you haven't seen in a long time and you know you're looking excellent.

The perfect Long Island Ice Tea.

Dancing in the kitchen while dinner is cooking, by yourself or with someone, it doesn't really matter.

TV on dvd and you have the whole day to lay on your ass and play episode after episode after episode...

Rob Thomas' voice.

Seeing one of my kids read without being told.

Watching my oldest pitch. He's really awesome. Seriously.

My husband getting out of the shower and strutting into the bedroom naked, begging me without words to check out his body. It's really kinda cute.

When a goaltender fights. Lightning's goaltender, Dan Cloutier, done this once and it was awesome. He wasn't very good, but I'll never forget him because of this.

Playing softball and hitting the sweet spot. That's a good feeling.

Getting in the car with your girlfriends and heading out for a night on the town. You don't know what's going to happen, but you know it's going to be fun.

Lying in bed, afterwards, and feeling completely, totally relaxed.

Having your hair done (or did, whichever you prefer)...

Finding the perfect shoes.

The electric slide.

When you try really hard to think of someone's voice, someone you've lost and you can't quite capture it in your mind, and then, sometime later, it's clear as a bell.

Chris Rock

Busting your ass working out, hating every second of it, but knowing your ass is getting in shape and it motivates you to go back the next day for more.

The Way We Were....and Urban Cowboy.

When you know you have an eyelash in your eye and you finally find it and pull it out, that tickle you get as the stringy goo leaves your eye and the lash is caught in it. Kinda gross, but I love that feeling of triumph.

The smell of orange blossoms every March, even when they make me sneeze.

Fire works.

Looking at the ocean as the sand disappears beneath your feet as the surf comes in.

Catching a wave....damn, that's an awesome feeling.

The flea market in Daytona.

New beginnings.

If I could experience these things a few more thousand times in my life, I'll be happy with that. Is that too much to ask?

Snow Sports For Dummies

2009-12-28T11:35:00.000-08:00

I don't really understand why people want to subject themselves to ice skating if you grew up in Florida. Or skiing for that matter.

When people were being given out gifts prior to their great arrival, I was not one of the fortunate ones. At least when it comes to coordination.

While I enjoy hockey (A LOT), I'm not so keen on lacing up some skates and gliding across the ice. No thanks. I've managed to break my wrist while climbing a four foot fence when I was a kid. Now that I'm almost six foot tall, I know I could really eff myself up if I hit the ice from that distance.

My dad lives in Colorado. He has a few houses in a little town just over the state line from Oklahoma, but he mostly spends his time in a little town near Salida, where his girlfriend lives. Apparently, there is a lot of fun to be had snow mobiling (is that one word?) and skiing down the mountain. All I can say is no thanks. I'd pull a Sonny Bono and eat a tree if I so much as tried. Seriously.

And that's another thing....I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Colorado in the summer. Cool at night, warm during the day...but right now?! Hell, no. Any place that the snot freezes in your nostrils and your piss freezes before it hits the ground is not for me (not that I know about the peeing thing. Cross my heart).

And yes, I'm well aware that this post isn't really ABOUT anything, I'm just rambling on, but here's the thing. I've been inundated with Christmas trees, holiday cookies and posts regarding family, food and presents, that I just didn't feel like going with the flow today. I'm being a rebel.

Like James Dean....Wasn't he hot?

The whole bad boy image, questionable sexuality (which makes him a serious challenge) and the hair...Dear Lord, the hair....

This Is Why Women Get A Bad Rap

2009-12-22T11:56:00.000-08:00

Okay, so sometimes, the male mind completely confuses me....

Over the weekend, it was sprung on me that we were going to host a dinner for several (22 - but whose counting?) family friends - on Monday night. Well, I was really busy all weekend, so I never made it to the grocery store to buy the things that I would need in order to make it happen.

A little background:

My husband's family own a ton of rental properties, a mix between commercial and residential, and my husband is kind of a "Mr. Fix-it". The toilet stops up, he's there....Garage door not working, M to the rescue. Anyway, it keeps him pretty busy most of the time and it's actually better for us if he's sitting on his ass doing nothing because THAT means we're making money and not spending it.

So, me being the poor office worker that I am, I'm working away yesterday and call my dear, wonderful, and thoughtful husband to see if he can maybe go by the grocery store, pick up two hams, a ten pound bag of potatoes and some corn. It's three o'clock and people are supposed to be arriving at six thirty.

He's at a sports bar, hanging out with two of his friends, one of which is down from North Carolina for the holidays. I have no problem with this. I NEVER call with the whole, "Where are you?, What are you doing?, WHO are you with?" psycho babble. That's not my style. And on a typical Monday night, if he wanted to roll his butt in at two in the morning, so long as I got a phone call letting me know he's alive, I'm not going to say anything about that, either. I know a lot of people around town. If he screws up, I will get word of it. Trust me on this.

So this is how our conversation goes:

Me - "Hey, babe. Are you busy?"

Hubby - "Nah, we're up here hanging out at Beef O'Brady's."

Me - "Do you have a job this afternoon?"

Hubby - "Nope."

Me - "Good. Will you run by the store and get two of those smaller hams and a ten pound bag of potatoes for me?"

Hubby - "Yeah."

Me - "You're going to have to start them, too. Just put them in the oven around five and they should be ready by seven."

Hubby - "What temperature?"

Me - "325.....Oh, and get some corn, too."

Hubby - "No problem. Love you."

Me - "Love you, too."

So, it's handled, right? Wrong.

I get home at around five thirty, no ham in the oven, no husband in the house.

Guess where he's at...Still at Beef's. UNBELIEVABLE.

He hurries home because I am super de duper pissed. I now have no time to cook anything before people begin arriving. He's brought a measly fifty wings home and expects that to feed TWENTY TWO PEOPLE.

Is he an idiot? Or is this "normal" male behavior? After all these years, I'm still not sure.

We ended up eating peanut brittle, rocky road and wings....Dumb ass.

To Make You Smile

2009-12-21T08:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, so today is a day that traditionally makes me melancholy..

Every year, so many people suffer at this time of year, having lost loved ones through the great mystery of death. I guess because it's a time for family and friends and when you lose someone of either "category", their absence is keenly felt as you sit around a table eating a turkey dinner or making toasts at holiday parties.

It sucks, to put it mildly.

In June of 2004, my sister in law was heading home from dropping her little sister off when she was hit head on by a driver trying to pass on a double yellow line. My two year old nephew and not quite five month old nephew were in the car.

She was killed instantly and we had to take my two year old nephew off of life support later that night as all brain activity had ceased. The baby was revived at the scene, as his heart had stopped and remained on life support for the next month with limited brain activity, but there was SOMETHING and we refused to give up on him. In the process of the wreck, his skull had cracked open, which believe it or not was a blessing, as his brain swelled and had somewhere to go.

Now, Levi is almost six years old and truly a living, breathing miracle. He is in Kindergarten and most likely one of the smartest kids I've ever seen (yes, I know I might be a little biased), especially considering the fact that he only has half a brain, literally. While he walks with a limp and his eye sight isn't what it could be, he is so very happy and makes everyone around him feel the same. There's not a child in his school, from grades K-5th that doesn't stop to say hi to him as he navigates his way through the hallways. He can hear a song once and remember the words and the notes.

My mom has been taking care of him since he came home from the hospital all those years ago, and today, on the day that my nephew Lane would've turned eight, I would like to honor her and all the other selfless, loving care givers out there. I salute you.

Please remember that everyone has their cross to bear, and while I'm not a religious person by nature (I curse too much for that) I see a miracle every time Levi comes running at me, in his little hop-skip kind of way and wraps his arms around my neck and tells me how very much he loves me.

And another thing, stop feeling so damn sorry for yourselves and tell those that you care about just how special they are to you.

You never know when life is going to happen.

Sober Trip To The Waffle House

2009-12-19T04:18:00.000-08:00

Have you ever made a sober trip to the Waffle House? I did last weekend, breakfast with my mom. Now I know why I typically go drunk, although their hash browns are AHMAZING.....even when you're not totally blitzed.

So, we had to wait a few minutes for a table (yes, there was a wait. Unbelievable, right?) and then we were seated at a booth behind the low bar. There was a man sitting there, totally bonkers, talking to himself THE ENTIRE TIME WE WERE THERE. What really made it awkward was the fact that he was completely turned around in his chair, facing our booth and using his hands to express whatever internal argument he was having. I was working really hard to tune him out.

So, the waitress comes to take our order and as my mom starts speaking, I notice she has toothpaste on her lips.

"Mom, you've got toothpaste on your mouth......."

She rubs it away. "Well, at least you know I brushed."

She set me up, is my only excuse.

"....or something." My mom turns bright red and the waitress (who was missing one of her eye teeth, by the way) busts out laughing. Which of course means I start laughing, because, helloooo, I totally laugh at my own jokes.

After getting our order, she leaves and my mom chastises me for embarrassing her, and of course I feel no shame at all.

At this point, mom finally notices the bat shit crazy guy that is facing our direction. Here's the thing. He was talking, or at least moving his lips, but no sound was coming out. It was almost like a badly dubbed martial arts movie, especially with all of the hand motions.

"Is he talking to us?"

"No, Mom. He's just crazy. Ignore him."

"Are you sure he's not talking to us?"

"Positive. He's freaking crazy, Mom. Ignore him."

"I thought he was talking to the people behind us, but he's looking right at us."

"Mom, he's bat shit crazy. Ignore him please."

So, Mom is really doing her best to not look at the old guy and I begin to read some of the things that the earrrrly a.m. crowd has written in the fake snow that is sprayed on the window. Christmas ambiance, ya know.

"Chris loves Jennifer. 3:18 a.m." When I see things like this, I always create some kind of back story that probably has nothing to do with reality, but it entertains me internally. I figured Chris maybe picked Jennifer out of the bar crowd when the lights came on. Maybe his beer goggles were on, maybe not...

...and bringing her to this fine establishment, he could soften her up with a pecan waffle before taking her home with him and forgetting her name the next day. As I said, I tend to make up elaborate stories out of these little notes people leave in public places. You should see me in public restrooms, reading the wall art there....

There was another one, it said, "Hoooo, Hoooo" (they might not have used a comma). I was trying to figure out if they were trying to be Santa or if they were making a statement on Jennifer's character, but whatever.

The waitress comes back with my drink and my mom's coffee.

"DO you want cream?"

Then she totally made my day.

"Or have you had enough?" She also laughs at her own jokes, because she then busted out laughing, showing off the rest of her dental issues, but I thought it was so funny, I didn't even mind.

And that folks, is what a sober trip to the Waffle House is like. I'm going to have to make it more of a habit, because I was highly entertained.

And did I mention that I LOOOOVE their hashbrowns?

Getting a "Beach Body"

2009-12-18T20:45:00.001-08:00

I truly think it's amazing how crappy it is to wake up every morning at five o'clock and torture your own body.

It's been four months, and while I wouldn't say it's any easier in the physical sense, once you are seeing results, it does make you push yourself a little bit harder.

I took photos two months ago, see below:

so I've gotten a little more results since then. I'm not wanting to lose weight, and I definitely don't want to become all buff like, as my boobs are small enough without shrinking them down with over exercise, but I really do want my butt to be more firm and I lust after Pink's stomach. Seriously.

I look at all the movie stars, models (ex. Heidi Klum), rock stars (Gwen Stephani, ya'll) and wonder if they have any idea how fortunate they are to have personal trainers and chefs. After two kids, building up muscle isn't easy, but it most certainly CAN be done.

My whole life I've been skinny and I hated it. Cry me a river, I know, but it's just the reverse side of the coin of being fat. You're made fun of, clothes never fit right (especially when you're damn near six feet tall) and you just feel awkward in your own skin. The older I've gotten, the better it is. At twenty nine, I think I'm more confident and feel a lot more sexy than I ever did at twenty. It's really amazing what aging a few years can do for you. It's really not all bad. But it does suck having to get up in five hours to try and conquer father time.

When I Was Younger, I Put My Face Close to the Fan to Hear My Robot Voice

2009-12-18T08:59:00.000-08:00

When I Was Younger, I Put My Face Close to the Fan to Hear My Robot Voice.

That isn't really what this post is about but the name caught my notice on Facebook. One of my friends joined this "group".

Now, can you see how disturbed my childhood was? Because I totally did this. We were bored obviously...and easily entertained. What's sad, I still do this whenever a fan is around. It's fun, right?

My husband and children took off to our cabin in Georgia. I'm not what one would call a "hunter" so I typically opt out of these excursions. The prospect of an entire weekend alone, to be able to do, or not do, whatever I want for a good chunk of time is my idea of a vacation. Honestly.

For all you single folks out there (just had Beyonce running through my head......damn it, now that song is going to be stuck with me all day), trust me when I say that sure, there are positives to being married (you can have sex whenever you want without fear of being infected with something that will make your nether regions rot off), there are also a few drawbacks.

1. A lot of the mystery is gone. It takes a lot to surprise me over my spouse after so many years together....sitting here trying to think up one and I'm drawing a blank...

2. You have to wash their laundry. Sure, he sometimes returns the favor, but he half asses it. It'll be washed, dried and then left in a basket to wrinkle until you decide to fold/hang, and put it away. (I only iron if I have no other choice. We do live in humid Fl. after all, and the heat will make the wrinkles fall out...That's my justification, anyway.)

3. He smothers you all night, because he's a cuddler and all you want is to not wake up with your face in his armpit.

4. There are dead animals on walls in your house.

5. You come home from work and there are five men standing in your garage with beer in their hands, staring at a four wheeler that has all the tires taken off of it, grease all over the place, then proceed to ask you if you're cooking anything for dinner. (I think they do this last thing for the entertainment value it affords them when you use a lot of four letter words and they know that their buddy isn't getting any, at least not that night.)

6. He tells you that he doesn't make a mess, but then when he realizes just how full of it he really is, he qualifies that with, "I keep my mess contained, anyway."

And I guess, seeing as how in my last post I criticized women for bashing their men in the office at work, I will give you a few of the reasons I'm going to spent eternity....forever....and ever....with this man I chose.

1. He sings "Elvira" by the Oak Ridge Boys in the buff to me and makes my stomach hurt, I laugh so hard.

2. He cannot get enough of my body and takes every opportunity he gets to touch me.

3. He's a snuggler. (and even though I hate it at times, sometimes, I'll wake up and he'll sleepily tell me he loves me as he buries his face in my hair)

4. I'll come home from work and every once in a while, he'll have the laundry mostly done.

5. I don't think he could survive without me. Honestly.

6. The other day, he asked me if I ever thought it was cool, being married and having someone that I can kiss whenever I want. (He kind of ruined it when he followed that up with, "and if I really, really need to get some, I know you'll give it to me".

7. He wants me to go hang out at his friends with him on Friday nights. I'm not making this up.

8. He signed me up for an adult softball team, without asking me, because he knew that I missed playing and would love to feel a glove on my hand again.

9. He'll go to hockey games with me, even though, a. he hates crowds and b. cannot understand why I love it so much, as he's much more into basketball, baseball and football, anything other than hockey.

10. He loves getting me drunk on tequila so he can take advantage of me.

11. Our eleven year wedding anniversary was this past week and if he can put up with me for that long, the man truly deserves a prize.

In conclusion (wow, if that was in all caps, I'd feel like I was creating a legal document), I must say that the benefits out weigh the drawbacks by a landslide.

P.s. He doesn't think I'm weird when I do the voice thing with the fan. Always a plus.

"How RUDE!"

2009-12-17T12:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so sometimes I'm not the most conscientious person in the world (room, whatever). I will occasionally burp or not hold the door open if someone is behind me and I definitely, definitely (shades of Rain Man), DO NOT let people in front of me on the road ways (most people in Florida are transplants and they just don't get the whole southern hospitality thing - give a thank you wave, asshole)...but there are a few things that I absolutely just wouldn't do...

1. Eat a tuna sandwich at the office. Sweet baby Jesus, the smell...

2. Take a shit at the office if I know it's going to smell like something has crawled up there and died - unless my bowel was literally going to explode.

3. Volunteer someone else for a job that I just "don't feel like doing".

4. Tell a bum "Why yes, I do have some spare change, but I'm not giving it to you."

5. Let someone walk around with a bugger hanging out of their nose. That's just mean. I'd rather be told.

6. Cough into my hand, wipe it down the front of my slacks and then proceed to pull open the door to a restaurant that contains buffet eating.

7. Continuously correct someone, either in person or in writing when they are not grammatically correct. (I know, I know, it annoys the hell out of me, too, but I've found that it is also very, very rude.)

8. Go into the kitchen at work and proceed to bad mouth/bash my husband to anyone that will listen. This is bad form, ladies (and also another reason we put up with our girlfriends).

9. NOT lie when I'm asked "How are you today?"...they don't want to hear that my period is due, my kid's a jerk and my dad takes it personally when I want to get off the phone to eat. All they expect in return is "Fine. How are you?"

10. When people don't remember that it is the effing holiday season....This means you, you old bat in an ugly Christmas sweater in the mall parking lot that thought I was going to run her over and proceeded to cuss me out. This means you.

If I Had Money, I'll Tell Ya What I'd Do

2009-12-14T12:04:00.000-08:00

If you were given several million dollars, what would you do? Would you curse out your boss, hated co-workers and laugh your way out the door? Do you enjoy your job enough that you would keep it?

Personally, I have this mental picture of myself, sitting on a yacht, heading to the south of France, holding a crystal wineglass full of champagne (I don't even like champagne?) while wearing a big brimmed hat and some hot Mediterranean man massaging my feet which miraculously have become beautiful and dainty instead of too large for my skinny legs.....

(* as a side note, I would like to say that I was amazed at the amount of dirty pictures that came up while trying to pull up one of a man giving a girl a massage. Amazed, I tell you.)

In reality, I would most likely give my boss notice (as I really do like him and would hate to leave him in the lurch) before flying economy to Ireland, where I proceed to get falling down drunk off of a real, live Guinness and sing tawdry songs in various pubs with hot Irish guys (picture the guy that plays Billy in P.S. I Love You - and yes, I know he wasn't REALLY Irish, but you get the picture) before stumbling my way to a shabby bed and breakfast to stare at the ceiling all night, terrified that a bug was going to crawl on me. Then I would head home, twiddle my fingers for a few weeks, be bored out of my mind and wish that I had my job back.

What would you do?

Facebook Entertainment

2009-12-11T06:01:00.000-08:00

I'm always amazed by the things people put on their facebooks. Some of the people on mine literally list things like:

Going to the grocery store.

Folding laundry.

Eating pork chops then cleaning the kitchen.

Going to work to do some filing.

My dog is GREAT!

Moving in with my mom because she's a bitch and kicked me out. Gotta save some money. (That one actually entertained me a little.)

I'm SOOOOO sick. Been throwing up and have diarrhea.

Now I know who my TRUE friends are.....

Guess what people? I don't care. Really. If you live in a total shit hole with laundry piled up to the ceiling and you need to finish some filing at work and your hemorrhoids are hanging out your booty hole and you did something that makes a woman not want to put up with your broke ass anymore....I don't care. And please don't air out your dirty laundry on facebook. It's beneath you. So what if one of your friends forgot to call you on your birthday? Everyone you've known since kindergarten doesn't really care. Send a message to one of those "true friends" and leave me out of it.

People put their whole lives on there. Seriously. I don't care if the freckled girl that was on my dance team forever ago got laid last night. Why do I need to know this? And can you maybe keep a little bit of mystery about yourself? If you tell me everything on facebook, we have nothing to talk about when we go for drinks.

I think I'm burned out on all the social networking sites. At least the ones that make it easy for every Tom, Dick and Harriet I went to school with to find me and proceed to tell me (not just me but their entire network of friends) every detail of their boring, mundane lives.

There are a few people on my page, like the guy I knew in third grade that got detention for shooting spitballs at the ceiling or the firefighter that goes into graphic detail on some of his calls (I know, I'm a little morbid) that I find entertaining. And don't get me started on all this farm town, ville or whatever in the hell its called. No, I don't want to be your neighbor and I don't want to join Yo'ville. If I did, the app would be on my page.

I currently have 93 requests, most of them stupid crap like that. It's ridiculous.

I'll end with a few status updates that might actually pique my interest:

You know that bitch neighbor of mine? Totally pissed in her pool this morning....

If my husband doesn't groom his man parts, I'm waxing them while he sleeps.

Holy smokes! Brazilian waxes are fo' real!

I'm going to break my co-workers nose if she stands in the door way of my office one more time with that stupid, superior look on her face.

Got my boob job!

Going to get wasted tonight at the gay club! Who's in?

My kid totally got suspended today for beating the snot out of the principals kid.

I'm having inappropriate dreams at night.

Where, oh where, were you last night? Why did you leave me here all alone? I searched the world over, thought I found true love.....

So this one time, at band camp....

Remember that time in high school when I said I didn't make out with your boyfriend? I lied.

On my way to work this morning, I rear ended a cop while applying my foundation and trying to text my girlfriend about the guy I had a one night stand with while eating a blueberry muffin.....in third gear.

You know how hot I was in school? I'm not anymore. Be prepared if you see me out in public. I've grown a mustache and put on a hundred and eighteen pounds and my tits that could once pass the pencil test? Huh uh. Not anymore.

Going to Vegas where I'm going to let the flappers talk me into one of their girls. I'll take pics and post them later!

And that's all for now...I'm sure I could think of a million more, but I'll stop. I need to get some work done. My filings kicking my ass currently. And I won't even mention my laundry.....or the culinary masterpiece I've got planned for dinner.

I Call BullSh#@!

2009-12-10T10:57:00.000-08:00

What do you do when you have a career crisis?

When you start to question what you've chosen to do with your life? Let's be honest. We spend most of our time at our jobs. It should be something that fulfills us, right?

Well, I call bullshit.

In theory, it sounds great. In reality, we just want something that is going to pay our bills, buy us new clothes and provide us with a decent vacation every year. If you have a job that does all of the above, most are content. If not content, then at least accepting.

Want me to do the work of three people? Sure, I'll do it. I might bitch and complain under my breath, but it'll get done.

You want me to bill 75 dollars for a twenty minute conversation? Why not?

Do these things make me happy? Hell no. Will I continue to do them to assure myself that I'm going to be able to take an exotic trip when my vacation time kicks back in? Damn straight.

If I was independently wealthy, I might do something better with my time. I surely wouldn't sit in this little office of mine that lacks even a window with a space heater under the desk so that my toes don't get frostbitten with cold. (I mean, really, people! I live in Florida. I was born here, spent my whole life here. If it dips below seventy degrees, I'm chilled. There is no need to have the air conditioner on sixty five day in and day out....)

A few of the people I work with:

The attorney to my left constantly forgets that he doesn't have the entire floor to himself, so I get to listen to his voice mail messages over the speaker phone, along with many of his conference calls. He also enjoys singing.

There is also someone near me that is constantly clearing the phlegm from their throat. She's a prize (and she sings, too! Go figure.)

Then, there are a few that break their necks looking into my office EVERY time they walk past.

Another one that screams G-D it whenever his assistant screws up. It leaves her a crying, shaking mess that I believe would make her jump out of her skin if you so much as said "Boo".

Or the former president to the local country club that can't be bothered to remember anyone's name unless you're a partner.

Or the perve that's always hitting on you every time you get into the elevator.

Or maybe the dorky one that brings his instrument to the office every other week because I guess he plays in concerts around town. He also has ZERO communication skills and I have a hard time believing it's snobbery.

Or the one that has exotic dead animals hung all over his office.

Or the former goth/emo dude that now has a degree hanging on his wall.

Then there is the one that looks at dirty emails all day.

Or the one that has three different girlfriends/hook ups with a wife at home.

I sometimes think about the "disgruntled worker" and hope and pray that one doesn't come back to haunt this place before I decide that tropical locales once a year aren't really worth it.

But even when I decide that, it must be said that I truly, truly love me some cute shoes, even if I don't enjoy shopping for them myself.

Maybe I should just say to hell with it and accept the modeling contract offered to me.

Hot People Don't Read???

2009-12-08T12:40:00.000-08:00

This morning on my way to work, I was listening to this morning show and they were asking their peeps this question, "Why do hot people NOT read?"

What?

Just because Jessica Simpson doesn't know the difference between chicken and fish and is obviously not well read, as she only answers pre screened questions in interviews (so I've heard, but that could be false) and some people (my husband) would consider her "hot" doesn't mean all attractive people are allergic to the literary word. I mean, really!

Kelly Ripa, people!

I know lots of people that are considered "hot" and also enjoy spending a rainy Sunday curled up with a book.

And while I'm not a super model or anything, I know I clean up pretty good and I have what amounts to a library in my house. I took serious offense. So because I'm a card carrying reader (not really) I'm not considered attractive? WTH?

Does this bias really exist? And why the hell would they put it on the radio if it doesn't?

I was left flummoxed.

Girl Fight

2009-12-07T06:17:00.000-08:00

Okay, so call me Scrooge. I was going to write a blog on the premise and promise that I would not write about Christmas, but then, as I got it underway, I realized it kind of defeated the purpose. What to do?

I want to have a girls night, probably start at my house and then subject all of my non sports loving girlfriends to a hockey game. At least they can take in some of the man candy that is hockey players:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I could go on and on, but I don't want to come off as some kind of sexual deviant.

I really do love hockey, though I must say that living in the Tampa Bay area, I haven't been witness to some really good hockey in years...years, I tell you. It's been painful.

But to get back to my girls night...They never go as planned. The last one almost ended up in a cat fight. Honestly.

I know this may come as a big surprise, but girls can be mean. Mean, I tell you. And they hold grudges. FOREVER. If you screw up with one of your friends, they don't forget about it. It doesn't fade with time, something to laugh over later. Hell no. And if you tell one of your girlfriends you're going to be somewhere, you damn sure better be there and stay a proper length of time. Leave too early, and you're the crappy friend that gets talked about as soon as the door closes behind you. I'm not making this stuff up.

And I will pat myself on the back, here, as I never get my feelings hurt. Ever. I don't care if you hate my hair, my outfit, my make up, shoes, purse, choice of drink, or the way I dance. Yes, I've heard it all. Not aimed at me (that's always behind my back) but about everyone else.

I find it amazing the way a girl can turn the exact same argument around and make both parties right, depending on whose telling, gossiping, rehashing, emailing, facebooking, texting about it.

Last girls night, I had six of my friends over, seven counting me. And I'll be the first to admit that I was pretty well on my way to hugging the toilet when all hell broke loose. We had blenders going, wine bottles being uncorked, and shots getting thrown back, it was fun. Anyway, it moves to the back patio, where the radio was playing and we're all having a good time, when all of a sudden, the conversation to my right begins to get just a little higher in volume than what is normal (they were screaming until the veins popped out of their foreheads) and sliding glass doors are being slammed open and girls are storming into the kitchen for their super light-ultra light beer (she wasn't about to leave it - thank God, I woulda never been able to drink it anyway) and storming out through the garage. I tried to get them to calm down but was afraid I was going to get a fist in my face for my troubles. Besides, I was so tipsy I probably would've pulled a twenty out and started betting on who was going to win if it came to blows. All I know is we were quickly down to six girls, because only one actually left.

My point here, girls are freaking crazy. Is it just my friends? I don't expect my friends to get along with everyone that I do, but jeez...I thought that maybe we could have a night in, drinking, talking, maybe even doing a little bit of kareoke without it coming to blows. And let me just throw this out there. Most of us are professional women. We have good jobs, make a decent salary and seem to know how to conduct ourselves in a responsible fashion (excluding a Mercedes tearing up my lawn as she beat a trail down my driveway). Hell, maybe we're on the same menstruation cycle and a few of them were doing some serious p.m.s.ing and I'd just killed my violent urges with tequila......(Is that an oxy-moron?)

Anyway, we'll see how the next one plays out and who will actually show up. It might make for better attendance. The prospect for girl fighting might make up for the fact that a sporting event is going to be involved. Maybe they can get their aggression out vicariously as there could be some good fights on the ice (even though year after year it seems that fighting is becoming obsolete - the Hanson brothers would be so ashamed - and hockey is being ruined, but don't get me started).

Until next time, try to stay out of the way of manic soccer moms in the mall and avoid all those people in the Santa suits. You never know who is lurking under the beard. Creepy.

TMI?

2009-12-04T06:04:00.000-08:00

Eve was such an idiot.

Why do I have to pay for it? I'm having a ghastly monthly flow, cramps and a headache that has me wishing it would just explode already. Why prolong the misery?

This is really disgusting.

And by the way, if you're male, you might want to stop reading. Hell, this might not be appropriate for either sex. You've been warned.

I'm on day three, so it should start to get better, right? That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

Do you know what I hate? When someone pisses me off, and it's attributed to p.m.s., and I feel like I'm genuinely pissed about something ignorant, assholish or stupid that they have done, then the next day or day after I start my period. It makes me second guess myself.

Was it really me just being a crazy, psychotic pre-menstrual bitch? But I felt so righteously angry.... It had to be a real emotion. Not one that has manifested in my overly lined uterus and sore, tender breasts.

And why the hell do I always get a pimple on my chin? Do I really need to highlight, on my face, that I'm about to start bleeding like a stuck pig? Isn't that just overkill?

Last month, I had a serious road rage incident. No, we didn't come to blows and I didn't actually leave my car, but holy cow, it wouldn't have taken much provocation and it so would've been ON. The next day, I started my period. And it occurred to me that I was acting like a crazy ass Jerry Springer guest because of the gravitational pull on my female nether regions. That girl is so lucky she drove past my driveway when I was waving her in.

I think my attorney could've gotten me off on temporary insanity. I totally would've taken pictures of the things leaving my body and labeled them "Exhibit A", "Exhibit B", and when I ran out of our alphabet, I would've begun using the Greek one, like they do with naming hurricanes. And I would've tried to stack the jury with a bunch of redneck men. My dad has always said you can't trust anything that bleeds for 5-7 days straight and doesn't die. I think he might have a point, because I'm beginning to not trust my own emotions when it seems every month, I have some type of meltdown and with in 24-48 hours I begin to lose part of my uterus.

TMI? Sorry, but I didn't think the good ol' boys (attorneys) I work with would've taken any pleasure from hearing me bitch about all the clotting I'm doing. :-)

Quick question. Why do they always have pictures similar to the one below in feminine hygiene ads? They make it look so wistful, and relaxing, and it really annoys me when I'm lying in bed in my ugly underwear with a heating pad under my lower back, afraid to cough because of the possible horrifying ramifications to any sudden movement to my lower half, and you see something like this on an "Always" commercial....wth? Really, wth?

Oh, and have a nice day.

Airbag For My Computer

2009-12-01T11:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I think I have some kind of sleep disorder. You know how they say that it takes a few hours of sleeping to reach REM. (I love Michael Stipes)? (I might totally be making this up as I go along, but that's what I think I heard....hello? Not a sleep expert here.) And isn't that what pattern of sleep you're supposed to be in when you begin to dream? Well, I don't care if I lay down for thirty minutes. I'm going to have some kind of dream. It's really pretty crazy. There hasn't been a single night (nap at my desk) gone by that I haven't dreamed of SOMETHING. And I think it's making me exhausted during the day.

The company's computer tech person brought me one of those little cartoon comics the other day, all cut out for my corkboard, that said "This computer is equipped with an airbag in case you fall asleep." For real. I'll be trying to work at my desk (or browse the internet - but whatever) and the next thing I know, someone is standing in the door way of my office clearing their throat. It's downright embarrassing for them. I just shake myself awake, yawn and ask what I can do for them.

Should I be worried? Maybe go in for one of those test things where they stick those things all over your head and record your sleep patterns? My luck, I've got sleep apnea and its making me a little crazy. It's so much cooler to be crazy for no reason at all.

I would've already have went, except sometimes I have awesome dreams. Like last night, I dreamed that Johnny Depp was sitting beside me on some bleachers watching a baseball game and I told him I thought Rear Window was an awesome movie. He just smiled, but it was that really cute smile, the kind he wore in Pirates of the Carribean?

Then I woke up in the recliner in my bedroom (where I had apparently fallen asleep while watching Monday night football) went to bed and promptly dreamed that Peyton Manning said he should come over for leftover spaghetti more often....I know. Weird, right? Indy wasn't even playing last night.

Hello Eye Candy

2009-11-30T07:47:00.000-08:00

I have the bed to myself until next Sunday. It's really pretty awesome. The hubby left for Georgia last Friday and while I'm sure I'll be missing him by the time he gets back, right now it's just what the doctor ordered. My house is clean, the laundry is caught up and I can get on the computer any time I want.

M (the best friend, M) came over to my mom's w/her family on Thanksgiving. I'm going to have to come up with a name for all the silly/airheaded/kinda dumb things she says because, honestly, I don't think I've ever spent any length of time around her that something that I find humorous doesn't come out of her mouth. For real.

Anyway, M is obsessed with Twilight. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE ME SOME VAMPIRES, but I can be reasonable about it (I resisted buying a "Team Edward" shirt the other day). Anywayz, months ago, she was telling me about how much she loved Edward after watching the first Twilight movie. I had already read all the books, so I told her she was going to love Jacob. I could totally tell he was her type. She wasn't convinced. Well, she watched New Moon and of course, I was right. I told you I'm never wrong. She loves Jacob now.

To get back to my story, we were sitting on my mom's back patio and she's just going on and on about how cute Jacob is (she just turned thirty in October. Did I mention that?) when I tell her he's only seventeen. She reassures me that she doesn't care at all. I also told her "I told you so" (even though I hate when people do that) and she says, and I quote, "I'm kind of incest with both of them".

Geez.

So, I feel like an English teacher and correct her. "I think you mean obsessed." She just laughs and what can I do but laugh with her.

I finally made it to the theater to watch New Moon on Saturday.

Watching it on the big screen makes for some hello good eye candy. I felt like a dirty old woman. I'm 29, he's 17. My son is 12, almost 13, which makes him closer to my child's age than mine. Eww.

And for the record, I'm still Team Edward. The broody quality to his stance, expression, eyes, the way he holds his mouth....melt. I don't care if his muscles are painted on.

"Rover"

2009-11-29T16:35:00.000-08:00

My mom and I were talking this morning (she always comes over for a visit on Sunday mornings)about some of the stupid things my brother and I did when we were young (and he still continues to do, but that's a whole different chapter).

My dad is this big truck driver who is most likely the sweetest, most soft hearted person I've ever met. Don't get me wrong, he's an ass (he is a man after all) but he's also very sweet. With a really foul mouth, and a sense of humor that would offend as many as it appeals to, he's really a hell of a guy. My mom fell in love with him when she was fifteen and became best friends with his little sister, my Aunt D. One day, she was hanging out with Aunt D, when my dad pulled up to the house in his '67 Chevy camaro (he's got excellent taste in cars, too). He's nearly six and a half feet tall and back in the day, his hair was shoulder length and really blond. My mom was awestruck. They were sitting on the porch when he breezed by. He was eighteen and didn't pay attention to his little sisters or their friends. So my mom made the first move. She stuck her head in the door and asked if he could come out and play, to which he replied, "my momma won't let me". As the saying goes, the rest is history.

Throughout my childhood, they were either fighting or making up. My dad was a dog, but one thing about him, he really did love my mom. She was just as badly in love with him. I say badly, because I'm almost convinced that the level of affection and passion they had for one another wasn't exactly healthy. As a child, I thought that every ones parents were as volatile as mine. Not until they split up when I was eleven did it start to sink in that maybe they were crazy. For real. That was also the year I found out that they had divorced when I was five. They were back together by the time I turned twelve and remained that way until I was knocked up at fifteen. Then my dad went a little crazy (can you say mid life meltdown?) and decided to begin openly dating other people. My mom decided she was going to kill him until I finally got through to her that murdering him probably wasn't the best idea. I moved her out into an apartment that same day and three months later my mom married one of my dad's old friends. It was a damn mess. For real. Dad was dumbfounded. He really had thought mom would wait on him to sow his wild oats. Mom is still married to the same guy a dozen years later, but I know that both of them have their moments of missing the other. Not that they don't love the people they're with. They just have so much history together, I don't think they would or could ever completely get over the other.

So, a quick story from my childhood.

We were in a restaurant and my brother asked my dad what the waitress's name was. Apparently (I don't remember), the waitress wasn't what you would call a "looker", so my dad being the smart ass he is, said "Rover". Well, Charlie (my brother) didn't know what the meaning of "Rover" was at his young and tender age of maybe ten. He began yelling "Rover" while holding his glass up in the air for a refill. My dad was mortified. He yelled at Charlie and wouldn't let him eat, even though it was his own damn fault. My mom gave Charlie his plate back and I don't remember how the waitress behaved towards us after that, as I was probably seven years old, but I wonder if she ever thinks about the asshole kid that was calling her rover....

Moral of the story is........don't be an ass.

29 going on 18

2009-11-27T08:34:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday was the wonderful, awesome eating-athon we call Thanksgiving...Thank you for all the wonderful food, as I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to eat! The mashed potatoes, turkey, ham, stuffing and wonderful pumkin pie, not to mention the rocky road that my husband's grandma makes every year gave me such a hang over that I slept from five o'clock yesterday afternoon until six o'clock this morning. For Real. It was AWESOME!

Every year, my brother, whom I don't see nearly enough of, shows up at my mom's for the food and while some families have football viewing or playing traditions, and others sit around and play cards and tell gruesome hunting tales, and yet others sit around and peruse the dreaded Black Friday ads (idiots), my brother and I have our own tradition. We typically fight. Seriously. I know. I'm a damn hillbilly that lives in a more uptown home than the trailer in the woods I grew up in. I guess it brings me back to my childhood when we would get into knock down, drag out fist fights....Anyway, he always wins, but I can usually hurt him at least once before we call truce. Its our thing.

Well, yesterday I went and sat beside him on the couch before blessings were said. He was really nervous, not quite sure of what my next move would be. It was funny because the anticipation was clearly killing him. He finally just told me to make my move and get it over with. I wasn't going to move to soon, ya know? I was like one of those caged lions, just ready to pounce.

The asshole elbowed me. I wasn't ready for it, as I'm usually the one that gets the jump, but not this year. And it was so ON....I dove on top of him, and he was just trying to protect himself. I sent my fist flying, knowing I was going to connect with his bicep, when he had the GALL, the NERVE, to try to protect himself by throwing his arm up in the air and my knuckles connected alright. With his elbow. Let me tell you, I hurt myself. For REAL. I think I've broken one of those itty bitty bones that is located somewhere down in your hand, the one that runs from your pinkie finger? That one. My hand is swollen and my hubby has zero sympathy. Jerk.

His argument is that I'm getting too old to behave in such a way. He might be right, but doesn't he understand? It's tradition. Just like the Packers and Cowboys playing on Thanksgiving, and Black Friday, it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without our annual fight.

Anyway, M is even now as we speak (or whatever) on his way to our cabin in the GA to hunt with a passel of friends for ten days and I have no idea how in the hell I'm supposed to drive my stick shift (it was my right hand). If it's still hurting on Monday, I guess I have to go to the doctor. I really hate going to the doctor (and it's not the insurance, we've got pretty good coverage). It seems like every time I go, it's because I've done something stupid, like the time I was trying to do a split and tore my hamstring (I had to prove I was more flexible than a six foot four idiot - Love you, E, in case you ever stumble across this) or the time I was stabbed (don't ask)....I'm really going to hate telling the doc how I hurt my hand. I'm trying to think of something to tell him, that would make sense with the injury without making me look like a complete jackass. Drawing a blank here. On the plus side, I could probably get a camo colored cast. That would be cool. Not sure the people at work ( a bunch of attorneys) would appreciate it, but who knows? It might make them lighten up a bit.

Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you truly thought about all the blessings in your lives and gave thanks. Peace out.

Fantabulous Key West

2009-11-19T08:40:00.001-08:00

Key West totally agrees with me....It was wonderful! Stayed out too late, drank too much, didn't eat enough, danced, danced, and danced some more. The gay clubs were awesome and the drag show "Aqua" was fantabulous! My friend, S, whom I went with are already planning on a return trip next November.

Have you ever been? No? Then what are you waiting for? This is definitely a place for your girlfriends and you to go...We went snorkeling and there was a boat race and tons of things to do.

The only people I wouldn't recommend Key West to would be if you're homophobic (shame on you) or if you have kids, because I saw all kinds of stuff on just the t-shirts that I wouldn't want my boys being witness to. And the gay and lesbian couples abound, which I personally find delightful and refreshing. I don't think I saw one unhappy person the entire time I was there. (unless you include me the morning after tying one on and sitting on a boat forty five minutes from shore)

If you go, let me know how you enjoyed it! And please tell Inga @ Aqua the cowgirl says hi!!

My Own Movie

2009-11-10T10:44:00.000-08:00

So, I was reading a blog and the girl mentioned who she wanted to play her in a movie, which made me wonder who I would want to play me if my life was interesting enough for a movie to be made about it (it also brought me back to the original Scream, where Neve Campbell pondered who would play her and it ended up being Tori Spelling, but anywayz.......). I've been told that I look like Julia Roberts (HA! Not even a little..)so if I had to pick her it would be the version of herself that she gave in Erin Brockovich...or maybe Helen Hunt in Pay It Forward.

And that is extremely disturbing because I think that a white trashy tall blond in a tight shirt and super short skirt fits me....And really it doesn't, but that's how I think of myself on the inside even though I'm more of a Lorelei Gilmore kind of person on the outside (wardrobe wise....I won't even claim to be as clever as the character Miss Lauren Graham was lucky enough to portray).

Weird, huh? I wish I was more of a Pink kind of girl (she's super cool to me) or maybe a Gretchen Wilson if I want to take the country bent....
I guess I'm more fascinating in my own mind than I show the world.

For instance, I've not told a soul about writing this blog. I'm way too private for that. I don't care if the cyber world gets a peak at my sometimes unflattering/humorous/raunchy side, but I would be embarrassed if someone I actually KNEW got the inside scoop on me. Of course, I've put real pictures of myself on here, so if anyone stumbles across it, then oh, well, but I'm not going to just volunteer the information.

I mean, what if one of my old rivals was to get a peak inside my brain? How weird would that be? Personally, I would LOVE to come across something like this that would bare the intimate details of some of my former spatting partners for the whole world to see....But then again, I'm extremely nosy.

Anywayz, as I was saying, I wonder who would play me? I've got a few personal stories that have made the local paper a time or two, mostly really bad crap that has happened within the family, so if a movie was ever made about my family, it would probably be one of those crappy maudlin movies that comes on Lifetime and then I wouldn't be surprised if Tori Spelling didn't get the part, or maybe the girl that played Jo on The Facts of Life. She seems to always be on that channel.

So, my husband is currently sick, coughing, snotting, eyes watering...I mean, for REAL sick. I wish he'd get better, because I'm leaving for Key West with a girlfriend on Thursday and I hate to leave him here with the boys while he's not feeling good (not bad enough that I'm not going to go, but still). He needs to hurry up and get better. He's the most pitiful sick person I've ever come across. He just wallows in it, but tries to still carry on, business as usual. Which means that I come home from a long day at work to hear him bitch and moan in between lots of damp, nasty sounds coming from his many different orifices.

God, please let him get better quick or at least make the week go by faster so that I can escape. Amen.

Kids Say The Darndest Things....

2009-11-09T07:33:00.000-08:00

Last night, I was leaving to pick up some dinner when my nine year old, D, asked if he could ride with me. I said sure. This is rare, especially considering the fact that he was out in the yard playing.

He gets in the car and doesn't say anything all the way to KFC. After getting the food, I started driving home and he's looking out the window with this extremely thoughtful look on his face, so I say,

"You got something on your mind, kid?"

He looks at me, very seriously and says, "Yes."

"Well, what's up?"

"I was just wondering, can I breath out of my nose and hold my mouth wide open at the same time?"

Well, I wasn't sure, so I tried it and sure enough, you can.

It was kind of funny, because I was thinking maybe he had something really serious that he wanted to talk to me about, but no, he just wanted to ride with me.

The whole conversation reminded me of a joke that Jeff Foxworthy would tell. It was about his daughter staring out the window as they were driving down the rode and he noticed she had this big smile on her face. He asked her what she was thinking about and her smile got wider and she answered, "Candy."

I just love kids....well, really only mine, but some of the things that kids think about is really refreshing. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to revert to that from time to time? The silly things that can make a child happy? I wish it was that easy for me.....The thought of candy making me blissfully happy. Usually, when I'm thinking about candy, I'm p.m.s.ing and I'm ready to bash someones face in with my stapler. If I'm holding a three musketeer bar, chances are you should maybe, probably, keep your distance.

Fantasy vs. Reality

2009-11-05T12:33:00.000-08:00

Party planning is for the birds....

Every holiday season for the last several years, I've helped organize a benefit for the needy kids in the area. The party itself is fun. Once you buy your ticket, there's music, free food, all you can drink...but getting there is a real pain in the ass.

I remember watching The Wedding Planner w/Jennifer Lopez and thinking what a wonderful job it would be to plan big parties. You get to wear pretty clothes and plan something that is special, or fun, or for the greater good....Hah! It's really a bunch of spreadsheets, counting numbers and meeting with people that have fifty other things they'd rather be doing than talking to you. I feel like a damn bill collector, calling and harassing people about what their menu is, how many tables they're going to need, how we're going to get power to their booths.....and the worst, are you coming or not? All the while praying that the weather holds, that it's not too cold, or God forbid, it rains...

People totally disregard the R.S.V.P. aspect....I think I could write a book entitled "Laurie's Party Etiquette". It probably wouldn't sell too well, as I would just gripe the entire time about people's LACK of etiquette. I also have a job to do, people. Give me a few simple answers and I wouldn't be pushing it to the last minute. Procrastinators suck!

Anyway, I'm in the home stretch now, so everything is just going to have to fall into place. There's no choice in the matter. I won't have it any other way.

When you were a little kid, did you have this picture of your life and how it was going to turn out? Remember that game, M.A.S.H? I can't remember exactly how it went, but I remember you would pick several careers, who you were going to marry, the car you were going to drive....and the answers where a process of any, many, miny, mo. I always had such a glamorous life, according to the outcome of my M.A.S.H. games.....

And another thing, when I was a little kid, hell, when I was a teenager I had this glamorous view of my prince charming. We are conditioned from the time we're little girls to believe some man is going to come in and sweep us off our feet. We should be teaching girls that men can be jerks, they sometimes are not very conscientious when it comes to wiping and they expect us to work and then come home and make sure their stomachs are taken care of, among other things. That's why, girls, you should at least get you a good looking man, that way you at least have something pleasant to look at, at least until they discover the pleasures of sitting around on the weekends with their buddies, drinking beer, playing poker and telling blood thirsty tales on their hunting kills.....Eventually they all get old...I figure I have about five more good years out of M and then he's going to go fat, bald and boring.

The Fantasy

The Reality

I don't remember ever playing the game M.A.S.H., requesting a job that I'm ignored while trying to do, driving a mini cooper and living in a house that constantly stays messy. Once upon a time, my home was my retreat, now it's just a place I go to maybe get six-seven hours of sleep before I'm gone to the next place. So long as my tub is clean, there are no dirty dishes in the sink and I don't have to squat over my toilets, I can continue to live there. But I won't even mention the laundry....

True Blue Forever

2009-11-03T12:16:00.001-08:00

Me and M met on the first day of first grade, standing in line for the water fountain. Our first conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi, I'm Laurie
M: I'm M
We stood there for a second, looking at the fairy tale poster hanging on the wall.
Me: I love Sleeping Beauty
M: I love Cinderella

A great friendship was born that day. We've had somewhere in the neighborhood of three fights in the twenty plus years since. The first one, I told a little boy that wore coveralls to school every day in the third grade that M wore a bra. Turned out she liked him and was humiliated. Fourth grade, I loved Micah. He was this adorable little tow headed boy with the prettiest blue eyes. I had worked hard to befriend him. One day, he tapped me on my shoulder in class and I turned around, smiling my prettiest smile when he asked me if I thought M liked him. I felt my heart go kerplunk into the pit of my stomach. When, in quite a huff, I told M about the conversation, I was in for a big surprise when I found out M liked him too. I eventually got over the betrayal. When I was in ninth grade, I rode with M and her mom to Texas for Christmas to see M's older sister, whom had the bad idea to marry a man she met out there while staying briefly with an aunt. After about four days, M and I were sick of each other and got into a screaming match over a game of pool. We got over it, and since then, and before, she's been the sister I never had.

I remember one time when we were probably around nine, ten years old, we were walking in the woods (we both grew up in the boonies, FOR REAL) behind her house. There had been some wild hogs tearing up peoples yards and Melissa was showing me some of their foot prints in a dry creek bed. Well, as luck would have it, I had to toot and when I did, it sounded JUST LIKE a growl. Melissa was being Ms. Tutor girl and was using a stick as a pointer. When she heard what she thought was a growl, she launched that stick up into the air and went running for her life, screaming at me to come on, "They're coming! They're coming!" at the top of her lungs. I about pissed myself I was laughing so hard. She was probably four football fields away before I could yell at her that it was okay, it was just me.

1998

Another time, we were adults, we took a trip up to St. Augustine. Her boyfriend, my husband and us were riding around, when in a tone of great puzzlement, she asked, "I wonder why, in Florida of all places, there are so many lighthouses?" Now, let me tell you, the car went silent. Finally I said, "Maybe because we're on a peninsula. Geez, M." Of course, she's still never lived that one down.

She's had two little girls over the last few years, and watching her become a mommy has been awesome. She's a really good one, probably because she worries that she's going to do everything wrong. She still has her moments though. A few months ago, she called. This is how it went:

M: Hey, girl.
Me: How are you and the girls?
M: We've been a little under the rain.

Now, it took me a few beats to figure out she was trying to tell me they had been a little under the weather.

I have my moments, too, but mine tend to be with the pronunciation of certain words, words like chaos, island, rendevous, pavilion, adolescent...the list goes on and on. You shoulda heard me in fifth grade when I had to give an oral report on the philosopher Socrates. I thought my teacher was going to blow the vein out of her forehead trying to repress her laughter. I thought I must've done a horrible job until at the end she told me the correct pronunciation of his name and it wasn't "So-crates".

When I was eleven, M's daddy was struck by lightning and died. It was the first death that profoundly affected me. M and I grew up in each other's pockets, so her family was my family and vice versa. Her mom was the first I told about being pregnant when I was fifteen. In July of '03, she lost her fiancé in a car accident and then three years ago, we lost her mom to crohn's disease. Earlier this year, her sister was in a serious accident and was airlifted to the hospital. She had broken her pelvic bone in multiple places, so badly in fact, that they refused to body cast her because if she started bleeding internally from the breaks, they didn't think they would have enough time to cut her out of the cast before she bled to death. It was terrifying, thinking that we were going to lose her, too. She pulled through and is still healing even now. I tell you this, not so anyone can feel sorry for her, but because the strength a human heart has is absolutely amazing. M is still one of the happiest people I know. She can put a pretty smile on her face no matter what is going on in her life. I think she lives by the mantra, fake it until you make it. Smile, even when life sucks, even when you think there is no way you can possibly deal with the pain you are going through. If you can do this, you can overcome any grief, any hardship, any bad mood, all the money troubles you may have. And please, never, ever, ever, think that it can't get any worse, because I guarantee you, it always can get harder. Even if it does, fake it until you make it. Smiling makes everyone feel better.

2008

Monday's suck

2009-11-02T08:09:00.000-08:00

Hellooo, cyber world.

It's Monday and I'm never at my best on Mondays.....Today, I'm not quite sure why, as I'm digging this time change. I totally felt like I got to sleep in today, even though I was up at 5:45. I figure it'll take at least 3 days before my body adjust and then 5:45 is going to suck as much as it ever did.

So, three months ago my sister and law and I began a workout routine called P90X. We finished last week and now have moved onto some circuit training which takes half the time but is filled with cardio. I HATE cardio. I feel like my lungs are going to explode and a chamber of my heart will fill up with so much blood that its going to burst because my poor little veins can't pump it out to the rest of my body fast enough. I HATE cardio.

This morning, the lady on the tape is overseeing her two grunts behind her, each with a kick ass body and she actually says into the lens, "If she can do it, so can you." As though the girl is some kind of fat ass, or even flabby ass that has had two kids and smokes a pack of cigarettes a day....It's a hell of a way to start your Monday morning, let me tell ya..

So, my arms are looking awesome, if I do say so myself. I'm skinny, but not toned, at least not until lately. My stomach still needs more work, and my J-Lo booty probably isn't going anywhere, but that's okay. It's looking better than it ever has, so I want to say thanks to Ms. Lopez and the Kardashian sisters for making a plump bottom sexy. And Beyonce, of course...and whoever wrote that song "Big Bottomed Girls"...

So anyway, Halloween was on Saturday. M and I had an adult party to go to after the boys went trick or treating. Well, I go to put on my costume (I was the Octoberfest girl, Gretchen) and blow out the ENTIRE zipper. Hello, I just tried this thing on four days before and it fit fine! WTH? (Read previous paragraph if you don't get my puzzlement)

So, I ended up going out of costume while M went as a beer can with a Joe Dirt mullet wig. We were really classy.

Next month I'm going to Key West for the first time ever, which is saying something. I think every Floridian shoulda been to Key West by the time they hit twenty(inaudible).....One of my girlfriends (purely platonic :-0) are going down to live it up for four days among the sun, sea and fabulous cross dressing shows. There is actually going to be some kind of speed boat race down there at the same time, which should be fun. Getting excited! I even have a snorkeling trip all lined up. Man, I'm so organized. Do you have any idea how much money they want for a plane ticket down there, though? From Tampa, it's $400! So, we're making it a road trip. It's gonna suck, but for the eight hundred dollars we'll be saving, totally worth it. I drive a mini, so fitting all our stuff in there should be interesting, but I have faith.

Last year, I went to Ft. Lauderdale w/two other girls for an mma fight and we managed to fit everything in, so it should be fine.

Have any of your ladies ever been to a fight? No? Well, let me give you a glimpse on what you're missing out on...Mr. White, I expect a finder's fee on any new pay per view orders..jk, unless you're willing to pay me...)

About me

2009-10-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm sure I'm not the only one. In fact, I bet the majority of people have googled themselves.

I googled my name and up came this woman who I believe lives in California, is slightly older than me, and seems much nicer.

I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Makes me feel like I have an entirely different online identity, one that's not even near accurate. Do I believe in God? Absolutely, without doubt. Would I create an entire website devoted to my beliefs? Probably not. Is that horrible sounding? Absolutely.

Anyway, as I'm new to this whole blogging experience, I figured I would say a little about myself.

I work in an office building, in a field I always fantasized myself in. To say that the fantasy has yet to live up to the reality would be putting it mildly. I have two boys, the first of which was born when I was sixteen. I totally should've been on that show MTV has out "Sixteen and Pregnant". I've been with my husband since I was fourteen, and I completely love him, but I've wondered periodically if I'd still be with him if it weren't for our oldest. We've mutually agreed that we probably wouldn't have made it. He gave us something to work for, although that is DEFINITELY not my recommendation for young kids to go off and get pregnant so that they can maybe, hopefully, most likely not, keep hold of some teenage boy. It worked out for us, which is definitely a rarity. It was more luck than anything, that we didn't grow apart as we grew up. Trust me, we've had our moments, but sheer stubbornness on both our parts helped us get through some of the tougher times.

He's an asshole, but a cute one.

And me? Well, hello??? I'm perfect(ly delusional, but whatever).

Our youngest son is like a big shiny present. That's what I tell him. I'm not quite sure what he's going to grow up to be, and I love that. He's so smart, but more than that, he's one of the most imaginative people I've ever met, and even though I'd like to say he got it from me, I can't take the credit. Honestly, we're not sure where he came from.

Our oldest is a typical jock. Honestly. He's not stupid, he's just air headed. His little brother runs circles around him in the burn department. A is constantly standing there trying to think of a comeback while D is on to the next burn.

A is a left handed pitcher. He lives, breaths and sleeps baseball. At least until recently. Recently, girls have officially been discovered. We're doing our best to keep him focused, as I don't want to be a grandma at 32, but mostly, I don't want him to face the same struggles we went through as teen parents. It's HARD! My best friend had her first baby at 25 and it was hard for her. Subtract a decade off of living experience and maybe you'll see what a difficult task it was to raise a child when you're just a child yourself. We have great parents, but trust me, no one was willing to raise our son for us. We did it and are continuing to do it to the best of our ability with what we've got. A is our learning curve, D is the final product. :-)

To get me, you have to know about them. M and I argue while we communicate, usually not loudly, and not aggressively, it's more of a loving conversation to us, but to outsiders, people think we are fighting. Our kids actually listen to us and smile. We amuse them. Maybe it's because we're so close in age.

We don't fight so much anymore. Bicker, sure. Fight? No.

So anyway, I'm 29, with two kids, a good husband and a boring job. Life's perfect.

I live in Florida, and today, my town is officially the hottest town in the country. It made the front headline of our local paper. "Yankee" is still a slur down here in this part of the country, and even though the majority of people you meet down here bitch about them, we know that our entire economy would go to crap without them. Even worse than it already has. They are the necessary evil. But could you please, please, please stay in the slow lane? And maybe lose the fannie packs? And the socks w/sandals? And stop photographing our bugs in the middle of parking lots? Jeez, people, it's a damn beetle (or cockroach, or maybe even a freaky looking spider), but not interesting enough to where I have to sit and wait for you to get your picture evidence. I'm sure there's a picture online somewhere.

I love summer. Even when it's about 100 degrees outside, with the heat index at about 115 and the humidity factor through the roof, I think it's wonderful. Beach days are the best. You get in your itty bitty bikini, grab a boogie board, some sun screen and a towel and drive to the East coast....wear yourself out on the water, and then stuff yourself with pizza...Those are good days.

The afternoon thunderstorms are violent. Lightning, thunder, rain coming in sideways, flooding the streets in a matter of minutes. Sometimes hail ruining paint jobs all over town. And after it's over, the way the air smells...Ahh..The only thing that annoys me about it is if you're wearing jeans, no matter how far you roll them up, you're going to step in a puddle just deep enough to get the hem damp. That's annoying.

The state of Florida is beautiful, if you can get past the cars, the people and the amusement parks. Sure, we have hurricanes, but not a lot of tornadoes, no earthquakes, no blizzards, and we ARE above sea level. Barely, but we are above it.

Let's see....I'm a horrible singer, but not shy about doing kareoke. I'm tall, skinny and have ugly feet. I live in a big house that I don't have time to clean, but hate, hate, hate, dirty houses. I love girly movies, shows, but I'm not that big on randomly shopping for things. Sports are my thing. The rules of most sports I know, basketball being the weakest, hockey the strongest. I know....I LOVE hockey, but live in Florida. My brother in law introduced me about eight, nine years ago and it stuck. Competitive to a fault. Truly. I messed up my hamstring a few weeks ago while doing a split because I was challenged. It's amazing I'm not a lesbian with all the stupid male tendencies/testosterone I have. Dare me to do something? I'll do it, and I'll do it better than you.....You ever saw that episode of Friends, where Monica is playing ping pong? That's totally me. Except I suck a ping pong, so I refuse to play. Corn hole? I'm so there.

I began working out a little over three months ago. I completed the P90X routine last week and have now moved on the Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. I'm on day 2, and it's hardddddd.

Want to know why I started working out? I began playing softball and when I tried to run to first, I felt as though the flesh on the fronts of my thighs was peeling off of the bone and an older woman in a knee brace had to pinch run for me. See? My competitive nature rearing its head. But at least it motivated me to get into shape. Now, if there was only something I could do about my ugly feet....

I have no pets and I don't want any pets. It's not that I hate them or anything, but why would I willingly subject myself to it? I had a dog from the time I was three (my first memory includes him) and he died when I was a teenager. It was awful. I refuse to put myself through that again. I know I'm totally making my kids miss out, but I honestly don't want to go through that again. The excuse that we don't have time to properly care for a dog comes in handy. I say dog because my husband hates cats.

And honestly? I REALLY don't want dog hair in my house. I'm selfish, I know (Just don't tell my husband that I confessed to any flaw, please).

So, there is a little about me. Probably no one will read this, but if you do, bear in mind that I'm new...:-)

My "The Hills" - Best Buy moment

2009-10-29T08:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, so embarrassingly enough, I love teeny bopper shows, movies, mags, etc. Twilight? Right on. One Tree Hill. I'm so there. Anyway, I caught an episode of The Hills on mtv the other night, which I haven't watched in a few seasons, and I thought I would go to Best Buy and purchase a season or two on dvd to get caught up.

Well, of course, there is only one line open (why did they even put in multiple registers if they're not going to use them?) and two customers up is this guy who decides to buy an extended warranty (people REALLY do that, apparently) and the line behind me is growing.

Well, there I stand, a twenty nine year old woman, kind of embarrassed because I'm holding not one, but TWO seasons of this show that I know is extremely cheesy and WAY to young for me. So I'm trying to discreetly hide the covers (even thought THE HILLS is glaringly apparent on the edges) and watching the bored clerk run through his spiel on warranties. Anywayz, the clerk was this attractive black man, maybe twenty two, twenty three years old, and excessively, overly obviously, gay. (Not that there is anything wrong with that) Didn't think anything of it until its my turn to check out and he starts raving over the show...

clerk: "Girl, I totally missed it last night! Was it any good?"
me (turning pink, I'm sure): Yes
clerk: "I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE The Hills!"
me (mumbling and looking around): Yeah
clerk: "But I hate that bitch Kristen! I was so pissed when Lauren left!"
Okay, so now I'm officially engaged in the conversation.
me: Did you watch it when it was Laguna? That's when it was GOOD.
clerk: Yes, and I hated that bitch back then, too.

This guy is a trip. Totally fantabulous. (Ripped the word off from my most favoritest waiter Josh - maybe I could set them up when Josh breaks up with his boyfriend in NY?)
me: She made the show fun! Remember Stephen?
clerk: Oh, what a cutie!
me: I know! Love, love, love him! (now I'm just throwing his words back at him, and not even in a sarcastic manner)
At this point the crowd behind us in not even remotely enjoying our conversation, so I move on....

My friend Jen said that I can relate to teenagers and gay guys....what does that say about me? Should I grow up? Maybe become more mature? Wouldn't that totally suck? I need my care free outlets, thank you very much and if that includes totally random (word from Laguna) conversations with extremely cute gay guys in the middle of Best Buy, so be it....