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.