Dating? Say it isn't so!!

So, over the last several months, I’ve found that single hood equals boredom. Yes, like watching paint dry.

So last weekend, I went on a date. An actual honest to God, dinner, movie, followed by ice cream, date. It was a little bizarre. But I did have a great time.

Some of my single girlfriends are living an entirely different single life than me. They’ve signed up for all of these online dating sites, which I know is supposedly the way relationships start nowadays. I absolutely refuse.

I don’t want to skim over profiles of men, picking apart their photos, interests and hobbies. That just sounds so cold-blooded to me. Whatever happened to meeting someone in the normal course of a day, in a random, cutesy manner, being attracted and going on a date?

That’s how my date on Saturday originated. I was introduced (by a drunken girlfriend) to this guy that I instantly found attractive, we spoke for a minute, exchanged numbers, and voila. A date was born.

Does this not happen a lot in modern times? Does a guy not ask you out unless he runs across a photo and a listing of the things you enjoy doing in an online profile?

Obviously, I’m not looking for some long term, serious relationship. I just got out of one of those and frankly, the idea of jumping right back into that ring gives me hives. But I wouldn’t mind casually dating someone that I have a few things in common with. I don’t want to go watch a ball game by myself, after all.

But to get back to my criticism of the online dating sites, they are honestly just hook up sites from what I can gather. One of my friends is not opposed to random hook ups, therefore she loves the shit out of it. She sends me a picture of a different man’s penis damn near everyday. (By the way, guys, please stop taking pictures of your private parts and sending them to complete strangers.)

I call it my “Daily Dude of the Day.” A little redundant maybe, but it does roll off the tongue.

So, while my date on Saturday was fun, it is now Tuesday and he has texted only once. Is that a bad sign? Hell, I have no freaking clue. I don’t know what the rules are or if there even IS any rules. Should he have said something beyond, “Have a great Easter” with a kissy face? What does a kissy face even mean? Am I over analyzing this entire situation? Am I (gasp!) turning into a girl?

I’m confused. It has been four months since the end of my marriage came about and I’m ready to begin to move forward. I’m thirty one and my sex drive is no where near dead. But I just don’t have it in me to sleep around. What do you do in a situation like this? Is there a happy compromise that will keep my girly parts from slowly withering away? Besides masturbation?

All The Single Ladies....

So, how is everyone?

A lot has changed for me in what seems like a short period of time, but in actuality, has been occuring for years.

I'm now a single girl. Yes, it's true. The end of a marriage is like a death, but at the same time, I think we have both been reborn. It is hard, the adjustments you have to make, but at the same time, it is something that is turning out to be for the best, for both of us.

I was the one that finally got up the nerve to call it quits. I think that once you reach a certain point, if you continue to stay, you end up breeding hatred in a relationship that was once all about love. I believe in the sanctity of marriage, but I also believe in recognizing when the fat lady has sang her last note and not sitting around waiting for an encore when the obese woman has dropped dead of a heart attack and has foam pouring from her mouth. But thats just me.

It's funny, really. As a married woman, I envied single people the freedom to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Let's put this in perspective. I was fourteen when I met my husband, sixteen when I gave birth, eighteen when I married, and nineteen when I had my second child.

I've never, ever just......been.

And even now, my children come first. They are twelve and fifteen. For the last several years, they have only seen my husband and me be friends. Which is great. But not if that is all there is. I want them to understand that in marriage there are many different emotions, such as happiness, anger, passion. My husband and I shared, and hopefully will again, a wonderful friendship. We didn't DO anything together. We didn't make each other a priority in our plans, our aspirations, anything that really matters. I want my boys to understand that for a marriage to work, you have to have a geniune interest in the other person.

I'm not saying that you must have everything in common. But you must care about the other person enough to want to participate and listen when they speak on things that you would otherwise never be exposed to. We lacked that.

So, yes, while it is sad, it is also for the best.

My youngest told me the other day that we were both so much happier lately. Which kind of made me sad, but at the same time reassured me that we are doing the right thing.

And the funny thing is, I haven't cried. Not once. So maybe we waited longer than we should've to call a halt to our runaway marriage. I do believe I've built up scar tissue.

My ex is very much a relationship kind of guy. I've reassured him that I'm okay with him finding someone else, which is really bizarre, I know, but only because I truly mean that.

As for me, I already have two males that will always be in my life. I couldn't imagine trying to make room for one more anytime soon. I just don't think I have it in me.

Evolution of Music

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...

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?

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

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

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....

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

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

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

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

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!!

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...

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???

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.....

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???

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!

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....

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!!

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.