Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy

Lately it seems I have had a bit of writer’s block. Maybe because I have been partying so much… pity partying that is. I’m growing tired of being the only guest at this party so I thought I would invite others to wallow in misery with me. I never wake up in this partying mood, but it seems as though the sun doesn’t even get to it’s brightest in the morning before someone has slapped on my pity party hat and stuck a blower, the kind that fill with spit if you aren’t careful, right between my lips and turned me from sunshine to shit.

This is supposed to be the happiest time of the year. The holidays are upon us, pretty lights, decorations and all this happy, happy, joy, joy stuff. But I’m broke. America is broke. Like Antoine Dodson “forreal” broke. I see people everyday doing all they can to keep their homes and then realizing they are fighting a losing battle and the people that should help them. Those nice, willing people that helped them get into the home of their dreams don’t even care enough to return their phone calls now. They don’t care that these people are doing everything within their power. It’s a job they leave at 5 everyday, but to those whose calls seem to just annoy them it is lost hope and devastation 24/7. And it is people just like us. It is people who have worked for years, people with college degrees and people without, but it is good people with work ethic who have been doing all they could to keep afloat in the failing economy who just cannot fight the undertow any longer.

Life was so much easier when I was oblivious to adult problems. Even when I first became an adult I was oblivious. I didn’t realize how crushing it would be when the beautiful faces of my children who use to light up when I walked in the door became people whose basic response to general conversation is that of a grunt or nod. I didn’t know that they would walk out the door one morning and come back that afternoon unrecognizable to the point you want to shake them and scream, “Give me MY kid back!” I didn’t know it would hurt so much to allow them to totally screw up because I really cannot fix everything!

And right their lies the problem. I cannot fix it. I know I can turn it over God and in his time he will take care of every bit of it. But while I sit in the “In His Time” waiting room I don’t know what to do with myself. (And for me that is never a good thing…. “idle hands” and all.) I find myself digging deeper. If I can’t fix it, then I have this crazy need to know why it is the way it is so then maybe I can understand it. Which doesn’t seem to work well for me either because then I find out more than I needed to know and still can’t fix it. Ugh! How do people put it in God’s hands and walk away with a “oh yeah” he gave me THE prescription smile?

In discussing the holidays with a friend tonight, I stated I know I needed to be better about it to make them more special for my kids. I didn’t know it before she was gone, but I know now that it was my mother who made the holidays special. I miss my own mother so much, especially during the holidays that I haven’t learned how to do that yet. The dynamics with families after the loss of the “glue” is precarious during this time of year more than any other. And then someone goes all crazy and tries to bring in some “step” crappy stiff packing tape in place of the glue. Seriously, what are we to do with that?!

So here is what I find myself doing. Sitting up after midnight blogging because I can’t sleep, and no one wants to hear my whining. But in doing so I know, I am getting it off my chest, if only for tonight so that I can sleep. I can sleep because I know I’m probably not the only girl at a pity party for one and because I know that I am not settled in at this party. I know I can leave, I know I want to leave and soon, I will. I guess we all have to have them every so often. If you want to join my party and get it off your chest, go for it! You’ll breathe a little easier and maybe even find a smile when you are done.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy! Time to look for that prescription ; )

The Bird

Ah! The bird. If I didn't like it so much myself I would be offended by it. And I guess it is a good thing I am not since I saw it twice last week, but I think that's pretty good karma considering how many times I probably gave it out. Wikipedia defines the "bird" as follows: as In Western culture, the finger (as in giving someone the finger), also known as the middle finger, the highway salute, the bird (as in flicking, flipping or flying the bird), or to flip someone off, is an obscene hand gesture, often meaning the phrase "[screw] you" or "up yours."

For me personally, I don't use it as a "highway salute", usually. Although last week, after being visually molested, I was given "the nod" by some nasty old douchebag (I was pmsing) in the parking lot of the post office. To which I am sure I gave the look. The look my daughter's male teacher told her females have that is a form of bullying. He said all girls give it, their mothers give and their grandmothers gave it before them... I laughed, because we all know that look, that death stare that sends shivers down the backs of men and makes the hair on a woman receiving the look stand up like a dog when they know "it's on!". Anyway, I ended up behind this man on the highway. Yes, the highway, the place you can go at least 40 miles an hour. Well, the highest the eye rapist could go was 4. He just sat at the light after it turned red. Not for a second, for several. So I tapped the horn a couple of times to get him going. He moved. Like a freakin' snail. Eventually, I could get over into the lane that was actually moving. Nasty eye rapist not only flings the highway salute out the window to me, he screams his definition with it... and it wasn't "up yours". Now when this story was being told to my husband, he said "and I know you handled that in the Christian way" to which I replied "Actually, I thought about what the bible says about doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. And it seemed that was what he would have others do unto him so I gave him his wish." And then I got in front of him and went 4 miles an hour. When he got in the other lane, I got in front of him in that lane at 4 miles and hour, and so on and so forth for about 4 lane changes until he realized he'd messed with the wrong person and took the first exit he could find. Sometimes the look just isn't enough for some people and your must take your bullying a step further.

Wikipedia goes on to tell us the origin of the bird, which I found interesting, because really. who thinks this stuff up?! It says: It is identified as the digitus impudicus (impudent finger) in Ancient Roman writings] and reference is made to using the finger in ancient Greek comedy to insult another person. The widespread usage of the finger in many cultures is likely due to the geographical influence of the Roman Empire and Greco-Roman civilization. Another possible origin of this gesture can be found in the first-century Mediterranean world, where extending the digitus impudicus was one of many methods used to divert the ever-present threat of the evil eye. (Seems "the look" and "the bird" have always gone hand in hand.)

Did you see the word "comedy" in there? I smile inside every time I give someone the gift of the bird. I even warn them the gift could be coming (i.e. "have you seen my new ring?"). When someone throws a little smartass comment your way, and you've got nothing... you've got the bird. Given with a smile, I think the bird can be the compliment that says "haha you got me... that time". When you've lost and you know it, throwing in the towel with an added flick of the finger just feels better than sticking out your tongue which just causes your face to crinkle then wrinkle. Plus it is always a way to show off a manicure. I guess acting like an adult in these situations and doing nothing could work too, but how boring is that!?!

Lessons from my 30's (Part 2 - Dealing With Death)

During my 30's I would like to say I learned a good bit about dealing with death. Truthfully though, I didn't learn a whole lot more than it happens and it hurts like hell when you lose someone you love. Before my 30's my only real experience with death was that of one grandparent and a few friends in my teen years. It is true that death is easier to deal with as a child as we most definitely are more resilient. In my 30's though, I lost all my remaining grandparents, a parent, two best friends and a couple of friends since childhood. The pain of losing a parent is the hardest of those, but the others, as with most all deaths leave you with a dark cloud following you that on most days you can stay a few steps ahead of, but every now and then that cloud is on top of you... and with it comes the rain.

This week, I ran into the mother of one of those childhood friends I'd lost in WalMart, of course. We stood in the front of the store and talked for what seemed like an hour and even teared up a few times. We compared our losses to that of losing a limb, specifically a leg. You learn to walk without it, but never without the effect of the loss being evident in nearly every aspect of your life. Some of those effects I believe are not necessarily bad ones. You learn not to take life for granted and more importantly not to take your loved ones for granted. You learn what you will and what you won't spend your time putting up with. You decide who deserves a little more of you and who and what you are wasting your time on. Death can leave you bitter, if you let it. But it shouldn't. The emptiness left behind can never be filled but in can be recognized in others. My only experience in the loss of immediate family is that of a grown child who has lost a parent. So many who had experienced the same loss recognized the various feelings I was dealing with reached out to me in the way that only they could. They were my anchors.

So, in retrospect, I did learn. I learned I wasn't alone, although your loss may not be of the same person, so many of the feelings were the same and eventually you do want to share them usually with someone who understands them. People who haven't faced that loss may view you as "not getting past it" and pitying you. They don't understand what to expect from you. People who have just know. Again, that is why women and in this case men too, should share with others. Your story could be what they need to hear.

One thing I will never understand though is how someone can get through it without a Christian foundation. I know when people read a lot of my posts they have to wonder about me. I know my language and actions many times do not glorify God. It is a constant struggle to combine all of me into a person that doesn't make God look down and just shake his head with a deep sigh. But I know he loves me! I know he carried me through each loss. Knowing he was the one who welcomed my loved ones with open arms to the the most beautiful place ever is what makes me smile through my tears. How can you smile through the loss if that is a picture you are unable to fathom? How can one believe after death there is nothing else? Why would God give us all this beauty and joy on earth just to be done when our mind and body is? I've seen beautiful evidence of God in his people when life begins and when life ends. His grace is my lifeline of survival. I am thankful I have never learned what life is like without it.

Bitch-Slapped!!

We have all come across people in our lives whom we’d quite honestly like to punch right in the face. If I had any doubt the people I want to pop would press charges I’d be slinging fist left and right some days. I know it’s wrong but once or twice I didn’t think about the consequences I just popped a deserving soul right in the smacker. I liked it. It felt good. Let me share…

Once upon a time there was a teenager (me) who was friends with a crazy older teenager (baby talker) who was filled with jealousy and insecurity as a result of being born to an absolutely psycho, ho-bag mother. Usually they were friends, but if younger friend did anything crazy older friend didn’t like (insert “Psycho” theme song here) drama ensued. I have always been one that will take crap from only so long before I am done. As always happens “done” came sooner than later. Fast forward to a good five or six years worth of drama (i.e. attempted boyfriend theft, badgering, that petty look what were doing and you’re not thing,) it went on and on even past one of us getting married. That would be me. It took that nutcase until past childbearing years to find someone crazy enough to marry her. Alas, he too is an odd one. Anyway, I run into her one day while dining with my hubby. I was “grown” so to speak and had enough, so the sound of her baby talking voice to my hubby was like daggers to my ears. I mimicked it. Loudly. And here she came with all her foolish confidence and got right in my face, in the middle of a busy restaurant. She made a comment and somewhere deep inside me the tolerance branch snapped and I bitch-slapped that twit right across the face. She never knew it was coming. Had the other patrons known her I am sure they would’ve given me a standing ovation, much as those in my community did when word got around. Even our preacher couldn’t help but snicker when I said “Bro. I don’t know what happened, but the devil picked my hand up and put it right across her face!” He replied, “Sweetie, I know them, it could’ve been the Lord!” Can I get an Amen?!

I’ve always been a girly-girl so I am not sure where this desire for aggressiveness is rooted, but I can’t help it. I can think of a handful of people right now that I would just love to punch right in the smacker. Note that over the years it has gone from a simple bitch-slap across the face to a full fisted knuckle punch. Pick yourself off the ground knuckle punch at that!! Line ‘em up at let ‘em have it! I have a list: 1) the sawed off little gossipy ballpark bitch. 2) The constantly complain about everything neighborhood bitch. 3) The shit-stirring, bright-eyed, fat, Ms. “Who Me?” fake innocence bitch. As well as the 4) My children are little shits, but instead of disciplining them, I will wait on yours to screw up so I can be all up in your business bitch. I could go on, but due to my fear of appearing bitter, I will stop.

I think one day when I am old, I am going to put on a ski mask and secretly go out and jump out of the dark like a member of the SWAT Team and get every last one of them, just for fun! Oh and it will be fun! Who wants to join in or at least be in charge of my bail fund?

So tell me who’s on your list of “I’d like to knock the hell out of…?”

Lessons from my 30's (Part 1 - Couple Friends)

In my neck of the woods a lot of people, especially those in their 30s it seems like to gather together to watch football, fights, play cards or what have you. In reality this is usually code for come over and lets drink a few. I have participated in this more than once and almost every time that little angel on my shoulder whispered "not the best idea", but as usual the little devil was a little louder. Now don't get me wrong, I had fun and was never ever a wallflower. And every now and then I would probably load up and go again but it's just not as much fun as it used to be.

The lesson I learned by taking part in, as well as sitting back watching and listening to stories from these gatherings (because NOTHING IS PRIVATE PEOPLE) is that too much of that kind of fun in mixed company is dangerous. It is dangerous to your relationships with your friends and your spouse. When people let their guard down, especially in the way alcohol can allow you to do, they show a side to themselves that most don't see day in and day out and to some that side is pretty dang attractive. And there the seed is planted.

Take these ingredients:

1 - Hot day at the ballpark
2 - Grandparents willing to take the kids to spend the night
3 - Cases of Beer
2 - Bottles of Jager
3 - Bottles of Wine
10/12 - 30-somethings of mixed gender and personality
4 - of those who are irritated at their spouse
1 - stereo with music to get you moving
6 - wives who want to dance
8 - husbands who don't
10 - horny husbands
8 - wives who hate it for them
0 - strangers in a bar to unite you in freak watching

Mix them all together and throw them into one couple's home. You have just made a good batch of potential trouble. The "Done" signal might not go off in the oven immediately, but the oven's on preheat somewhere.

Since I am the queen of different viewpoints, I know this is not always the case and it's obviously just an opinion I have formed over time. I have stories to back up this theory, or lesson as I have deemed it. I am sure you have them as well. But as lessons go, they are meant to teach you something. What they taught me is I that the times to participate in these were lost when I looked around and my children were older and my friends children were older and they were watching. So was everyone else. How did I feel about what they were saying they saw? Did I care what people thought? Yes! And exactly when the heck did that happen?? In my 30's! I cared because it reflected on my children. And the gossip that stems from these situations is like the Rumor Weed in the old Vegi-Tales kids movies. The weeds are just too fast and furious to control. When it comes down to it, they are just too hard to fight and totally not worth it. Life throws enough battles, why create more for ourselves?

As I have said before I am full of good advice that I don't heed. My life is full of daily battles that I hide well, to some at least. Still the desire is always there to keep someone from repeating your mistakes and the only way to do that is to share your life, flaws and all with the girlfriends you love.

30('s) Rock

Ten years ago I found my 20’s coming to an end and I freaked. I made appointments with my ophthalmologist, gynecologist, dermatologist and cosmetologist. I thought I was about to be old and life, as I knew it was coming to an end. And well, it was. I just didn’t know it was going to get even better. I can’t sum up the 30’s in one blog post so I hope you are ready to chime in and keep reading.

I can only speak for myself but my 20’s were spent trying to be the perfect little wife and mommy in my Sam & Libby flats, jumpers and big ‘ol hair bows. I was trying to be what I thought most of the women I looked up to were. I didn’t notice their struggles, their flaws and more importantly who they really were. I saw their perfectly decorated homes, their “Junior’s Mom” baseball t-shirts, their crafty little gifts for teachers and their Godly way of reaching out to the younger generations. Of course, while I was admiring them and trying to appear to have it altogether, I was hiding beer or wine coolers in the bottom of the grocery cart in case I ran into “church folk”. Of course, this is just an example of me caring more about others perceptions of me because I didn’t know just who “me” was yet.

Today I walked out of the grocery store with milk and cereal in one hand and Bud Light in the other. Today I am not ashamed that I like to have a drink or three every now and then. I know what I believe now and how it lines up with my beliefs as a Christian. I know “me”. I like “me” and have been given many opportunities in my 30’s to learn just who I am and what I think. I am still learning the best ways to express both those things, but one thing is for sure, I am not ashamed of either. That is a gift of the 30’s.

The wonderful, fabulous 30’s; when I was my skinniest and close to my fattest; when I was loved and hated by the same people so often I learned how sparingly trust should be gifted. I got tattooed, throwing up drunk and carelessly sang and danced in front of strangers. I discovered sometimes moods need meds. I watched my mother leave this life for the heavenly one she longed for. I lost two of the best friends of my life, as they died way too young, and several others from my childhood. I buried the last of my grandparents. I changed careers, communities, churches and hair colors. My babies grew from toddlers to teens and have loved me more than they’ve hated me. My marriage was a rollercoaster at times, and at others a wonderful ride on the lazy river.

I lived. I laughed. I loved. I learned.

So far in my 30’s I have had the greatest sex of my life! I have with great pleasure, told more than one bitch exactly what I thought of them. I’ve bitten my tongue when I needed to. I have faced fears. I have tried funky foods. I have danced in the rain. I have skinny-dipped. I have finally done enough damage to my skin that I got a tan! I’ve accomplished a dream and I’ve walked away from it. I’ve learned to apologize, to forgive and to walk away. I’ve learned to not even waste my time. I’ve fought. I’ve won and I’ve lost.

C.S. Lewis said “Thirty was so strange for me. I've really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.” The thirties have been strange, but strangely beautiful. No matter how many tears I have shed thus far in my 30’s the laughter; love and lessons were worth every single one of them. One of the most important lessons has been what a gift sleep is. I will embrace that gift and share more on this defining decade later. In the meantime, I would love to read your feelings on being 30 something… whether it’s in the future, past or present.

XOXO… You know you love me!
(So ready for Gossip Girl to come back on.)

Speaking of unpretty...

Have you ever gotten ready to go out and did that double take and thought "yeah, I'm cute. I look good today." You go out about your day and here comes a man (in my case, usually either old or black) flirting with you. He's no Ashton Kutcher, he's more of a Randy Quaid. And you wonder to yourself, am I not as cute as I think I am that he thinks I am in his league? You have to wonder why women have so many confidence issues and most men have no issue whatsoever. Yet, they should!


Not so long ago, I was walking out of a weight clinic thanks to my every increasing butt girth. A guy, not too old, but black, of course (they love my ghetto booty) said "girl, you know you look good." Excuse me?? "Girl, you know you look gooood". Um, moron. I'm walking out of a weight clinic with drugs in my hand. Obviously, I don't know I look gooood and being told by you hasn't helped that any. Yes, I said that. Yes, I'm a bitch. No, I didn't care. Then about a week later I begin to wonder about this guy that keeps coming back by my office, which is not one you pass by. If you come to my office, it is for a purpose. He's all chatty and friendly. He's old. His oldest kid is 6 years younger than me. He tries to impress me with a story of some expensive shoes he bought. (This is definitely a new one... and one you might think would draw me in. Buy those expensive shoes for me, then maybe. But for yourself? Ummm, no.) He tells me I am "striking". I am getting a little uncomfortable now and say thanks, but not a whole lot more. He seems to get the picture and leaves. Leaves me feeling less striking and more aged.


I guess men just think, what's it hurt to try. Why does it hurt my ego more than theirs? Ok, who am I kidding? My ego is just fine. But still it's like the tongue thing. You know the tongue thing from Thelma & Louise that causes Louise to blow perverted tongue guy's big oil rig up. I would like to know since men learned to play a woman's harmonica (oral sex, ladies)has a man with his tongue wagging out of his mouth suggesting his harmonica playing abilities ever turned a woman on. Has any woman ever said to a man "hey you lick the air so well, you wanna give me a go?" I can't imagine one ever has. It is disgusting. Or how about this one. Your kissing and making out, then they take your hand and put it on their package (covered or not). Hello dumbass! If I had wanted my hand there, I'd have put it there. Do you think it makes me more excited? Hell, I knew you were hard by the way you kissed me, give me time and I will get there, I don't need you to show me what I am in for... in some cases what you are in for is disappointment. Which leads me to "sharpie lid".


Arrogant guys are the biggest turn-off to me. I knew one that was so very full of himself and walked around like he was hung like a freakin' mule. One night at a party, where a bit of drinking commenced, he decided it was a good time to give me a hug; a really close, tight hug. And there it was a little poke at my leg. The hug was so long I had a moment to think about what that could be. There was no reason, for him to have a sharpie marker and seemingly he didn't because I felt as if I was being poked with just the lid of the sharpie. Hard enough, that it didn't move, as a sharpie lid in a pocket would. Sure enough, I came to the conclusion, and yes, told all my friends that mister I am so wonderful, did in fact have a penis the size of a sharpie cap. All that size doesn't matter and it's not the size of the ocean it's the motion... Pure bullshit. A wise man would know the way to make up for this is not to walk around like a pompous ass. It is to fine tune your harmonica skills.


So now that I have shared a couple of men are idiot stories with you, it's your turn. I know you have them...

Unpretty

As you know, I am new to this blogging thing and never wanted to start blogging until I could have a pretty one. When I post a blog on my home computer it looks good. Then I find out when others are pulling it up on different computers the words are running across the page. I have tried to fix this. When I do, the words no longer run across the page which is the purpose, I know. However, they are no longer pink and now they are in a boring, unpretty font. This I cannot figure out how to fix and it frustrates me and makes me not want to do it if it's not the way I want it. Yes, I am having a princess moment.

I am going to keep going though and keep trying to figure it out, but if anyone knows how to fix this or has any suggestions let me know! In the meantime that old TLC song about being "so damn unpretty" will be haunting me.

You're the reason your kids are stupid

“Guh, I luh ew!” What the crap?! How about I would rather you not “luh” me because it sounds like something I’d need an ointment for. You would think you would see comments like this on a child’s Facebook page, but these my friends are comments of seemingly sensible adults. Here are a few samples of post I have ripped off while Facebook stalking:

“Dang guh. Sounds like u had a crazy weekend. Glad all is ok. Luh u!”

“good night be sweets friend in the whole wide world!! ILY foreva!!!”

“I deal wit em erreday!”

“I lurves you!!!”

“Hey sexy!!! Thank u!!! I have several beerz for u!!! Kissz”

“That's crazy bunch of guhs!”

Seriously, these are self-supporting grown-ups. Probably even the one’s who send out “press one for English” emails. These are people raising children and helping them with homework. So it’s no wonder that their children cannot spell. I know this may just be a personal pet peeve of mine but I hate this crap! The teenagers I know don’t even talk or write like this, so what the heck is wrong with you?!? For the record every single one of these comments were posted by someone either divorced or single. My guess would be it’s because they are idiots. Nuff said guhs… peace out.

Whatever.

Cheater, Cheater

My first real job working with male & female “grown-ups” was when I was 20 years old. I learned A LOT from those people. They didn’t know it but they tainted so many of my early images of the perfect life I believed awaited me. These are the first people who told me “all men cheat”. I argued that all men do not cheat and believe that to this day. All men don’t, but A LOT do. I remember saying “all men don’t but you saying that means you would”… and he did. We would watch as he went one way to the elevators then a few minutes later she would go another way to the elevators (or stairs and get the elevator on the floor below). We’d give them time to get to the bottom floor and then watch through a window as they would go every afternoon for yogurt. Then there were the days they would both go to the YMCA to work out… for a long time. You could also see them in her car after these workouts. I loved both these people and have never been one to judge but that was my first glimpse of an affair. Twenty years later he is still married to the same woman he was then, the female however, has long been divorced and seen her life change in ways she never would’ve imagined in the few years before I met her.

In Sex & the City 2 (spoiler alert!) Carrie & old flame, Aiden share an “unexpected” kiss. Really, who didn’t expect it? From the moment they saw each other that attraction was there. She knew she shouldn’t, but couldn’t resist meeting him for dinner to catch up. Sure it sounds innocent and we all want to believe that we can catch up with an old flame without any residual feelings but can we? Unless they have become a complete loser and sometimes even if they have. We still want to look good to them; we still want them to think “damn!”. and then we want to walk away leaving them with little more than a fantasy to hang on to. But Carrie kissed him and then ran away with immediate remorse and called all her Louboutin loving ladies together for a powwow advice session. To tell or not to tell? All the girls agreed with me… No, don’t tell. She told, Big was upset but of course came back in the end with a diamond and declarations of love and promises of a married life never to be boring. Yep, only in the movies. Would you tell? Do you fall on the side of live with the guilt yourself or put it on your partner to live with as well? Many have first hand experience and there are lots of opinions.

Without getting into a moral discussion, because we all know it is morally wrong, yet many, in fact I’d say almost every friend that I am close enough to discuss such things with has been faced with the spoken or unspoken opportunity to test the waters with a man who “is not her own”. Most women have “the other one”. The man they could’ve/would’ve been with at some point in their life had circumstances been different (you’re thinking of him now, aren’t you?). And if they don’t, they are either lying or ugly… and I tend to believe lying, because I have seen some ugly cheaters. So ugly you can’t believe one person wanted to sleep with them, much less two. Still, it may not be someone before they were married, but someone they meet after. Attraction is a chemical thing; we don’t know what attracts people to each other (sometimes to the point of WTH were they thinking?!?). It happens and sometimes you realize it too late and the thoughts have already crossed your mind. The actions are for you to decide on. We beat ourselves up about it, but not as much as other women beat us up about it. Yet it is one of those things women judge each other for instead of admitting their own fears because saying it out loud gives it life. Again, it’s not a moral discussion; it’s a discussion that is personal to many that judgments should be left out of…. in this forum anyway.

So, this is another reason for anonymity. Even with what I have said here, many will judge that I speak from personal experience. I do… my personal experiences and the personal experiences of many who have confided in me. And many who haven’t yet their stories are out there either from the lips of others or given away by themselves unknowingly. I know now, what I didn’t know in my 20’s and even early 30’s when you see a potentially hazardous situation, and temptation is definitely hazardous, to run like hell! Keep in mind here that I am not talking about a timely affair or even a sexual relationship. But the seemingly innocent situation that becomes more than you expected, even though floating in the back of your mind the whole time. Don’t play with that fire because you will get burned. And when you do, do you tell? Not asking for advice here because I know my answer. I just like to hear others. Be honest, if you dare. Have you ever found yourself in that “oh crap” moment? Did you run? Did you run too late? Whom did you confide in? And again, to confess or not?

Getting my crap together...

I was told today that a blog cannot be once a week and I “need to get this shit together”. This is true and I apologize for starting and then leaving you hanging while I survived a crappy week.

In regards to my flippin’ uterus, I was good. No need to flip anything inside. Doc told me of another patient who was about 400 lbs. In some crazy me kind of way, I took this to say, “You win, your efforts in looking better than some women that come in here are appreciated”. How I got that from our discussion, I don’t know, but just let me have it, alright? We discussed my weight, after I prompted. He encouraged “Weight Watchers”. Screw that. Went to a weight clinic two days later and got a little help in a bottle with a kid proof cap. I did get hit on while there by a black garbage collector. That is a sure sign my ghetto booty is back along with all with a bunch of other junk I don’t want in my trunk.

I’m loving the gyno stories!! I see a blog in the future for us to discuss the lovely little nipple bumps that add to the destruction brought on by age and breastfeeding of our breasts. That for the record seems to turn no one off but us. Sick world we live in.

I promise to do better this week. What has been on my mind is not a humorous thing but a woman thing. But as the great Carrie Bradshaw says “it’s really hard to walk in a woman’s shoes so every now and then you need special ones; to make the walk a little more fun”. Shoes and girlfriends (even blog friends) that are real have made my walk, even when stepping in a shitload of trouble… a little more fun.

Mama always said...

“You will say it or bust hell wide open”. I’m sure that came from my intense need to either have the last word or my inability to ever bite my tongue. I love to speak my mind and give my opinion whether it is asked for or not and quiet honestly I give some darn good advice. Mostly because I never take my own advice or do what I should so I have learned the hard way and try to teach as I say, not as I do.

A little while back I was challenged to start a blog because people seem to be amused (or bemused) by my way of saying what others think but would never say. It is a gift and a curse. So I wanted to give this blogging thing a try and hopefully I won’t find myself talking to myself once a week on here. I want comments... I want topics... I want to tell you what I think!

So let me tell you what this blog is not. It is not a “blah, blah, blah” list of what my children are doing or a list of their accolades. We all have kids, we are all proud of them, but lets face it, outside of us and their grandparents no one really wants to read how many pageants they win, home-runs they hit or horse barrels they jump. It is not daily photos of pretty flowers or yummy edibles. Although occasionally I probably will not be able to resist adding a photo of some random moron who obliviously dresses in a way that I cannot help but mock and share with my friends.

What this blog is though is anonymous. I don’t want to tell you who I am not because I am ashamed but because people are so often judgmental and won’t allow you to be yourself. I love my family and don’t want the fallout of what I may say to affect them. I just want to freely speak my mind and if you want to freely speak yours, you can do it here. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter and a loyal friend. I am laid-back and outgoing but can be a total bitch if you hurt someone I love out of pettiness or stupidity. I’m kind of funny and definitely a smart-ass, but I am loving and will go out of my way to help someone I love. On the other hand, if you are a constant pain in my ass, I will cut you off quicker than a split end. You may think you know me, but honestly as Miranda Lambert says in all her wisdom. “I’m just like you.... only prettier”.