Friday, December 16, 2011

Merry...wait for it...

CHRISTMAS!  Yeah, I fuckin said it.  MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Between Facebook, the stores, the news, and people I know...it seems all I hear lately is this and that about the ever present Happy Holidays vs Merry Christmas debate.
Enough already.  First off, does it REALLY fucking matter!?!  I mean really.  Essentially, you're wishing someone happiness during this time of year.  End of story.

What sparked this?  I get on FB this morning and my friend posted that he actually saw a store Santa Clause apologizing for saying Merry Christmas.
Let me just say that again...A SANTA CLAUSE...APOLOGIZING...for saying MERRY CHRISTMAS.

*scratches head*

To be clear on this...isn't that what Santa says?  "Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!"?

I'm fairly certain that going back oh pretty much to the dinosaur ages, that's been his line.

Now, I get the respecting others, political correctness bullshit but come the hell on, Santa...don't apologize!  That's taking PC-ness to a whole new level of stupidity.  Perhaps Santa shouldn't say Ho Ho Ho, hookers might get offended...

I understand that we don't all have the same beliefs.  I grew up in a Lutheran home, believe in God...rarely go to church but its mostly for lack of motivation and time which is a bullshit excuse but welcome to my generation.  I'm not a bible thumper or a psycho who will corner you at the pharmacy and ask you if you've been saved.  But ya know what...Christmas is what I celebrate this time of year because it is what I believe.  I don't believe in the religions that encompass Hanu...Kwan...hell I cant even spell them (which I will undoubtedly get flack for).

I don't believe in cheating on your spouse...so uhm I don't recognize it much less congratulate people for doing it...so if I say "Happy  Holidays" in an attempt to wish you a good celebration in a god I don't believe in...essentially I'm saying "You're going to hell but hey, fuck it!  Have a good time while its snowy and white out this year!"

I'm a mom of a 2 yr old.  A sassy, independent, opinionated as HELL 2 yr old.  I want him to grow up to respect other people, but not be a push over.  I want him to be willing and comfortable speaking out and up for his beliefs.  Should he say Happy Holidays?  If he wants to.  But I'll be damned if he DOESN'T say "Merry Christmas" just because he is afraid someone might not like what he says.


So Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and stop worrying so much about being PC that you lose sight of what is important this time of year; family, friends, and celebrating YOUR OWN BELIEFS.


Sunday, October 30, 2011

Dirty Pirate Hookers!!!

I got a good laugh tonight, while watching The Anchor Man.
The night life blew up in my face, that movie came into play.  Its funny how a moment in life can ruin a movie/tv show or give you reason to laugh at it more than you normally would.

As I sat holding my Allllllllllllllmost sleeping perfect baby boy, I couldn't help but think about that statement; and how the world weaves itself together in the most hysterical and comical of ways.  And this is what I have to say about it.

If you find yourself quoting a movie in a way meant to be a secret or to exacerbate problems or encourage bad behavior; be warned.  Life has a way of biting people who encourage wrong when they least expect it.  Revenge; is after all...a dish best served oh so fucking cold...and the frost is just setting in at night.  The most fridged moments are yet to come.

When you think you have life by the horns and it turns and runs you through; I'm sorry, you were right, and I miss you are too little to late, too pathetic and too Tom Hanks sappy sappy someone is dying of cancer movie-ish.  Get on with life.  Wallow if you must, but don't wallow too close to me because I don't want to be spattered in your mud.

If you have crossed the line from whore to whorr-id in ways that entire counties are familiar with; a bottle of jack and a few hours of bullshit on a front porch will not suffice to repair the damage you have done to people's lives. I know, its a shocker that not all people repair the fucked up ways of the world they create with booze stupidity and sucking cock...but it's a fact.
Perhaps in the future it would best serve you to keep your whore mouth and other body parts shut and away from those who they have no business being near.  Just a thought.

I'm just shocked  and left with nothing to do but shake my head at the ridiculousness that is the country we live in and the things we put up with.  There are laws, repercussions, and law suits that can slam the fuck out of people who think they have  right to pry their grub monkey fingers into other's lives.  Trust me.

Its amazing to me that something as little as a sing 3 word line from a horrible movie that a decent actor should be ashamed of producing can shoot someone like me who currently resides on cloud 9 into a fury of small town smut and scandal so easily. But that's what its about.  Getting those hard to handle calls at the same time as hearing those lines and being able to say fuck it all and hang up and turn off the tv and look around and see happiness...even if it means a short rant or vent online.

Here's to the past they can kiss my glass!




Friday, October 28, 2011

Heart break...Heart ache...

Been a while since I blogged.  I know, I suck...but I'm damn good at it! ;)

First and foremost I would like to wish everyone a happy Freedom Friday!  Today is my 1st full day as a single woman.  That's right.  My divorce was finalized yesterday morning, within 45 minutes I had traded this:

for this and a pocket of cash:

Its a truly enlightening thing when you realize that not only do you not need someone in your life, but that you want your life to be yours not theirs.  Whats the difference?  I have friends in my life that I could lose.  I don't need them.  BUT having your life be someone's well, that's pouring your heart and soul into  that person on a day to day basis because they are your number one.  

The simple fact is that if I am not number one for them, no fucking way they will be anywhere in the top 10 for me.  And that's what happened.  Flake or don't flake but if you walk from me and I drop to #...anything below your biological children, you can go fuck yourself and I'm out.  PEACE!

Leave it to me, as my EX husband and I were walking out of court in an awkward silence, him a few steps behind me...to, after he said "well, that's it?" whip around and shoot him an evil smile and say, "Is this a bad time to invite you over to get drunk and have mind blowing sex?"  LMAO!  Of course, after he said "what?!?!" and stuttered for a minute, I told him I was just messing with him and that he isn't allowed to touch me anymore.  But it was good for a giggle...at least on my part.

So the long drawn out ridiculousness that was my life for a while is over.  I'd wish him luck with her but she already went back to her husband.  I'd wish him luck with anything but it would be superficial and full of snark.  Sometimes it does a body or a mind or a heart good to hit rock bottom.  



So today is the 1st day of my new life.  Although to be honest, we've been apart and "apart emotionally" so long it doesnt feel any different...except for the lack of false hope that things will be better...
That shit was tearing me up.  SOoooooooooooooo glad its gone.


Moving on...in other news...I was having heart problems.  Turns out some of my meds were f'in me up BIG TIME.  There are 2 parts to an adrenaline rush.  The 1st is the anxiety build up.  That is an endorphin your body releases.  The second part is the adrenaline release.  The endorphin and adrenaline act like an acid and a base and cancel eachother out when the adrenaline races through your system.  People who have anxiety attacks have the build up but no release to counter it. I...am the anti anxiety girl.  I have no endorphin build up but my body over produces and randomly releases adrenaline causing my heart rate to shoot up, blood pressure to shoot up, etc causing all sorts of shit.  My meds for PPD were making it like 10000 times worse. Fucking meds.

Soooooooooooooo after this for a few days:


Yup, that's duct tape.  Stupid heart monitor and stupid stickum shit.  Didnt stick for a god damn.  So what do I do in all my hill billy wisdom....duct tape.  If you cant duct it, fuck it!

After a series of tests and a couple months of playing with meds, we figured it out. Funny...I dont miss my PPD meds.  I'm happier and more calm than ever and guess what, no dying from heart issues!  WHOO HOO!

Last but not least to catch you up on my super awesome, cant miss a minute of it, soap opera life...I blew out my tendons in my ankle.  Not just one side, both sides. Yes.  The only thing holding my foot on my body was my skin and a tiny piece of bone in the middle.  I am so awesome.

10 minutes after the initial injury



Yup, the next day

So busted ankles, f'd up heart, and all other aside, life is pretty good.  Drama and pain are pushed to the past...love of self is number one (well after moose of course) and its time to just be me and not care about what the rest of the world thinks.  Bout damn time.  



Thursday, October 20, 2011

What to say, what to say...

I know.  I suck at blogging.  Well maybe not the blogging part so much as the making time for blogging part.  Damn that clock on the wall!

I wanted to fill you in on what's the haps 'round here.  Some of you know a little about my precious ticker going all wonky on me...some of you don't.  So I'll start with that.  Note to uhm...people who have beating hearts (which I assume is everyone reading this blog with the exception of 3 of you.  HARRRR HARR HAR.  What the fuck ever.) if you start having palpitations, limbs going numb, dizziness, and almost blacking out...see a doc. Yup, a doc.  No, not bitch about it on FB and do nothing.

So shortly after my separation started, I started having these dizzy spells out of nowhere.  I could feel that my blood pressure was high, sometimes my heart raced.  I had no idea what it was.  NO it was not panic attacks.  I knew that much, and I was right.  I kept chalking it up to my asthma.  It had happened on very rare occasions in the past going back as early as I want to say 2003, but never in such frequency and never this bad.

Sweet berjabers, let me just say, at one point I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  Finally I sucked it up after oh ya know, 6 months of dealing with it, and called the doc.  I kept track of when it happened, what happened, etc and low and behold it wasn't my damn allergen infested lungs after all!

So they strapped me into a halter monitor.

 Holy most annoying shit ever on the planet.  1st off, who wants wires hanging off their chest and side?  Not me.  Second, you get to carry around this thing that looks like a pager and push a button every time something wonky happens with your heart.  Boo.  Third, those stupid sticky thingies, yeah they didnt stick to me very well, which resulted in this:


Oh yes.  That's duct tape.  And pretty duct tape at that!  And yes, it hurt like a mofo pulling those 3 bitches off the next day.  Last but not least, no showering while you have it on.  BOO.  I dislike.

So after the monitor and a few other stupid tests, it turns out there's a medical reason for me being wired as fuck all the time, unable to sit still ever, and pretty much always going a million miles per hour.  My body over produces adrenaline.  Essentially,  I'm naturally coked out.   The problem is, when there's way too much built up, my brain says "oh shit, time to unload" and dumps it into my system...and guess what, adrenaline release without build up=jacked up shit on your heart.  Its funny though because its the opposite chemical response from what a panic attack is.  So I'm pretty much incapable of having a panic attack.  Sweet.  That's comforting in some jacked up way.  To make matters worse, the ppd meds I was on were exacerbating ($12 word!) the problem.  I got to stop my meds cold turkey and DT which was fun.  Fun like being kicked in the crotch.  

So while it is something that will happen to me from time to time because at this point its not bad enough to medicate for...being off the meds has pretty much made it stop completely.  Aaaaaaaaaaand in shocking news, once the ppd meds were out of my system, I am sooooooo much happier.  And here I thought depression meds were supposed to make you uhm...ya know...not depressed.  In my world that means happy.  

In other news, my divorce is almost finished.  PHEW!  
It took a long time to realize why this happened and to come to grips with it all but now I see and understand the bigger picture and I couldn't be happier than I am right this minute.  :)  aww!  Warm fuzzy moment on the bitchy blog!  <3  

My weight loss has plateaued but I'm back on track and have hit the 75# mark.  75 pounds lost!  WHOA! 
Yeah I'm smokin!  Smokin HOT that is!  HA.

In other other news, I'm a narcissistic bitch.  Or so I've been told over and over the last month.  But considering how far I've come physically and emotionally I think it's justified.  Wasn't aware that learning to lvoe yourself 



Monday, October 10, 2011

Tick Tock

I havent posted in a while.  Been crazy busy with work and the kid and enjoying Indian Summer...80 degrees in October in northern Illinois...Whaaaaaaaaaaaa???!!!  LOVE IT!

Ready for this.  Like all the other crappola in my life isnt enough, I'm having ticker problems. Yup.  Ticker, as in:


Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Horror Story

I watched it tonight.  American Horror Story.

I have to be honest, I dont know what part of it is horror, the ghosts and spirits or the cheating piece of shit husband and what his family is going through because of his actions.

Its funny.  I sat down expecting to be scared and instead I found myself angry.  I wanted to throat punch the husband and cry with the wife and child.  When a man cheats, the effects are felt down the line no matter the age or relation to him the person is.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

FUCKING GREAT SONG

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1M7pCS6Jpho" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>



"Baggage Claim"

I have been draggin' around your sensitive ego
Making sure that your bags arrive on time for the dog and pony show
A little suitcase like a brick,
It kinda makes it hard to get a good grip
I drop your troubles off at the conveyor belt,
I'll hand you a ticket to go get it yourself

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
When you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Cause it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles on my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
I'm packin' it in, so come and get it.

If it ain't obvious what has set me off today,
Behind every woman scorned is a man who made her that way
Go on and take your little business trip with that sweet little habit
That you can't kick
You better call your momma when you get to town
Cause I ain't gonna be hangin' around

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
When you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Because it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles of my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
I'm packin' it in, so come and get it

Come and get it!

Come and pick it up, pick it up
Before I blow it up in flames
You better pick it up, pick it up,
Baby, I'm leaving everything...

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
And when you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Cause it ain't my problem now
I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles of my own
It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
Well I'm packin' it in, so come and get it

Come and get your shit! 

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

SHOCK value

I got a huge kick this week out of something my friend posted on FB.  Therefore, I must elaborate on it for you.  Check these pups out!


No joke.  Stretch pants that make you look like you FORGOT to put your pants on.  
Ok for starters, I love that the chick wearing these clearly caucasian colored pants is NOT white.  This, ladies and gentlemen, is proof positive that Michael Jackson's skin disease DOES really exist!  You see it here!  This poor woman's legs have turned white!  AAAAAAAAAND her ass!  

Lowes...Really?!?  I've been suspended from grocery store jobs for wearing navy blue pants that were "faded too light".   I can't FATHOM anyplace, much less a big box store like Lowes actually letting an employee wear these!  Now, we've all had the dream where we're at work or school and forgot to put on pants.  How anyone could ever ACTUALLY forget to put on pants (points at my sister) is beyond me.  They're PANTS.  Its not like you forgot to grab your cell phone or a jacket for later when it cools off.  FUCKING PANTS PEOPLE!

By the looks of these pants, not only would you have forgotten your pants, but also your underwear.  Really?  Cuz I dunno about you guys, but that's like the 1st thing I put on when I get out of the shower.  PLUS, how do you put on shoes without realizing you have no pants on???  

OK so suspend dream-reality for a minute...how fantastic are these pants?!?  I mean really!  There is no shock value above that of nudity in unexpected places.  

In other words, I would so wear these just to see how people react.  That being said...there are a few items that are notable about both me, and the pants.

As for me, I have been called a lot of things in my life.  More so, a LOT of things in the last 7 months.  My favorite one of them is narcissistic.  Narcissistic?  Me?  I mean I can see how someone who doesn't know me might think it for a minute but really...get to know me, I'm so not that.  I took it as a compliment though, after years of being beyond self conscious...being in-law'd to a woman who constantly made me feel like nothing I did was good enough and battling weight since I was oh pretty much 12 years old...being called narcissistic meant I'm totally overcoming all that nonsense and loving myself enough to make others jealous!  CHA-CHING!  I'll take it.   

That being said, what better for a narcissistic bitch than pants that will draw copious amounts of attention.  I say, nothing.  Which brings me to the other half of this...the pants. 

I need more info.  First off, I'd like to see these pants on someone with a little less junk in the trunk if ya know what I mean.  I left my thunderthighs in the box of stuff my husband took with him when he moved out, so I (after doing a double take in my full length mirror just now) am CERTAIN, I could rock these out without causing as much throwing up in the mouth as this chick.  

Second, I need to know do these come pre-designed with cellulite and dimples?  If so, I'd like to pass on that option. P90X has been good to my thighs, I'm not adding issues that don't exist.  Is there perhaps a style that makes the brown-eye area look...uh...like its been, how should I put it...wiped better?

Also, and of the utmost importance, what does the front look like?  
Do these come in various levels and stages of "grooming" are we talkin sasquatch or full brazilian?   And what about hair color, do the curtains match the drapes or are we just running with whatever the company provides?  These are important things to know if you're going to appear to be naked in public!!
Also, I would like to request that mine come with a random guy's name scrawled across the butt cheek and a heart around it.  Ya know, ex boyfriend style.  Or maybe a tattoo of lips...or the USDA Grade A Choice stamp!  

Come on!  If I'm gonna actually wear these, I gotta do it right!  
And for those of you more private who still like the shock value idea, there are brief versions!  
Far less fun but still, giggleworthy.

I just can't help myself.  I got too big a kick out of them!  And no joke, I'd wear them, just once...er maybe twice.  How funny would it be?  I say pretty damn hysterical. 

Send me more ridiculous links!  I'm dying to have at this stuff!




Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Did I just say that!?

I'm amazed at the things I hear come out of my mouth.  Sometimes I stop and think...is that me, did I just say that...holy fuck!

I sat down tonight and laughed at myself.  Things that I say outloud and that go through my head now, would have sent me to a padded room with a nice quiet place to scream 6 years ago.  So I figured I would share my favorites.  In the order of how my day went...

-FUCK go back to sleep.  6 am?!?!  What the fuck.
-Yes you're super cute and mom...MOM...HOLY HELL...MOM...love "mama!  Hi!" but its like 730am
-UHG!  its 730am!  FUCK ME in the goat ass!
-Where are my contacts?  Where are my glasses.  Why is moose wearing my glasses.  That's gonna SO not good for his eyes!
-Why does it smell like shit in my house?
-Coffee.  MUST HAVE COFFEE.
-STFU.  Why are all the animals whining at the same time?  Stupid fucking zoo.  Hey!  Lets get a kitten!  That's a great idea!  *Sarcasm*
-Email bullshit.  Comment bullshit.  Business bullshit.  Can I please have a part time job?  OH wait, I can't.  I raise a baby full time.
-Holy hell...what smells like shit in this house.
-Stupid kitten...I think you smell like shit.
-Would someone PLEASE make me some coffee...oh yeah...that's my job...
-Moose come here, do you smell like shit...
-No.
-*raises arm to sniff check*  Do I smell like shit?
- Maybe my nose smells like shit on the inside.


Smelling like shit.  Its a theme here.  A dog, 2 cats, a toddler who is interested but not quite potty trained yet...and my gassy ass...yup.  Take out stock in Febreze people.

The concept of my house, er a house smelling like shit never occurred to me until late.  The concept of owning a house...even further from the reality I thought I'd be part of 6 years ago.  A dream yes, a reality...no.

Looking for a NEW...er used but new to me house...just me and the little man...even FURTHER from reality.

-Really, something smells like shit.  Really...maybe its me *sniff sniff*  no, not me...







Monday, September 19, 2011

Move me into the trailer



I never leave my house scummy.  Never.  Even if I havent showered I dry-shampoo my hair...throw on a cute hat, make up, and at minimum jeans and a decent shirt.  I was raised by a mom who valued her appearance and so I do too.

So what happens today?  I decide to be scummy.  I was out of milk, out of mt dew, clearly cant have coffee without milk and thus...had a caffeine crisis.  There is a gas station in town that I normally wont spend money at because everything is so expensive but I wasnt in the mood to go into the next town over to the grocery so I said screw it...and double screw it, and headed for the gas station in serious scum mode.

After losing 75 lbs, even my old yoga pants are huge.  So I grab a hoodie, throw it on, a bandana, a tiny bit of make up just to cover my zit and dark circles under my eyes from staying up way too late last night...and its out the door in flip flops and way baggy oversized yoga pants.  Fuck it.  Its just the damn gas station.

Right.

Cuz we all know the kinda luck I have.  Sweet Jesus, the guy who walked in when I was standing at the register was GORGEOUS!  No ring, great ink, shaved head, kick ass truck, buff, and had these killer eyes.  And I'm standing there, baby on hip, with the clerk asking me if my divorce is over yet, in scummy baggy pj pants and a bandana and hoodie.  HELLO WHITE TRASH!


Seriously, just reserve me a plat at the trailer park and call up my soon to be ex to bring me a single wide from his work cuz I might as well have been pickin my teeth with dragon lady nails and smokin with curlers in my hair.  At least, being someone who's normally dressed nicely, that's how I felt.  SHIT SHIT SHIT!  The ONE TIME there's something worth paying attention to at the gas station in this God forsaken town...I LOOK like I belong in this town!  DAMN.

I swear.  Somedays, all you can do is shake your head.  My soon to be ex always says he loves his women trashy...good thing he didn't see me like this, he mighta changed his mind about the agreed divorce!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Friday, September 2, 2011

Pass the downers, please

The last couple days have been like this in my house:

My little ER trip that resulted in me being put on Prednisone has taken my already bold and fiery attitude and cranked to the level of psycho ninja style.  My son, who at only 21 months old has an attitude to rival mine ANY DAY OF THE WEEK, apparently reacts to Prednisone the same way and guess what...he's on it too.

So we've essentially had a battle of wills between me:

and my son:

Can ya see how this could be tons o fun???  I can't say that he has EVER prior to being on these meds looked at me and screamed "NO!".  He's the most well behaved kid in the world...but holy hell, he's got his sassy pants pulled all the way up to his armpits the last few days and my fuse is just about burnt up.  Thank God today was his last day on the meds and tomorrow is mine.  Stupid bronchitis!  Stupid asthma!

To top off the joy that our house hold has been the last few days, we have also had Moose's new kitten Teller (as in Jax Teller), decide that he REALLY likes to sneak outside. 

  Now, I really thought I had this under control, much to the disliking of my dog...when I opted to just leave the dog door closed all day and let her out only when she pawed at it, but the sneaky little rat fucker...well not literally rat FUCKER...but you know...got out today when I was letting the dog in.  This resulted in me flying across my back yard which is about midcalf high grass (not my fault, it got mowed less than a week ago by my lawn kid), barefoot, stepping in an ant hill, cussing like I have tourettes.  The dog pounced around only resulting in the kitten running faster for the fence line...all the while Moose is standing on the deck yelling, "TELLER!  TELLER NO!!!"

I caught the little shit, quite literally by the tip of his tail as he was squeezing between fence posts at the corner of the yard through 6' high sunflowers.  This resulted in me being both lacerated across my brand new tattoo by his sharp shitty kitten claws, and being showered in little green bugs...

Picture this, 100 (ok probably like 12 but it felt like 100) little green bugs running up and down my head, neck and into my shirt...me screaming bloody murder more out of frustration than fear of the bugs...holding the kitten by the scruff while ripping off my tshirt and running wildly through my yard toward my house.  At the same time, the 100 lb German Shepard is nipping at my heels for GOD ONLY KNOWS what reason aside from the obvious statement that she must have completely fucking lost her mind.  Moose just stood on the deck jumping up and down yelling "YAY MAMA!  YAY!" which is the only thing that kept me laughing instead of reducing me to uncontrollable tears of rage.

Once in the house, EVERYONE got a time out.  Dog locked out.  Kitten locked in laundry room.  Moose down for nap.  And me...well here I sit venting my day to you all because quite frankly if I keep bottling shit up because of other's requests I'm gonna blow like an a-bomb.

The house is quiet now.  Not for long.  And I'm left to simply sit here and shake my head at how quickly my day fell to pieces of a puzzle that I am not interested in putting back together.  Is it bed time yet?  Thank God tomorrow is another day.  On a side note, we have these leaf bugs hanging around this year, totally awesome.  This is the one from the other day:

 The one last night was less interested in looking cool and more interested in hanging out on my window and well...it would appear, pleasuring himself.  WTF.  This raises a question for me.  Do animals other than humans masterbate?  I mean seriously.  *shakes head*  can't wait to get off this Prednisone.  I want that filter back in my head that says "DON'T SAY THAT OUT LOUD!" before I end up in a white padded room wearing big red foam squares on my hands to keep me from hurting myself, yelling to my stalker/neighbor in the padded room next door.  At least it would be a nice comfortable place to scream. :)



Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Lamaze Classes Doomed Me



In through the nose, out through the mouth does not apply to all situations.  *gigglesnort*  And No.  I'm not being a freak...hear me out.

When I was 5 or so my docs told my mom my allergies are bad enough they could cause asthma.  Ok. Whooptie doo.  Never had a problem with it in my life...until after my Katrina experience.  For 3 years I was the asthma queen, constantly puffin my inhaler like the little brother from The Goonies.  Since starting allergy shots last winter, my allergies have been pretty much non existent.

A week ago, both my Moose man and I came down with ear infections.  Him before me thankfully...I hate when I make him sick, kicks the mommy guilt in me.  I've had a cough.  OOOOOOOOOOOH!  Hold me back!  A cough!  No big thing.  I hit my inhaler the other day because I felt like I was having a little asthma attack and done is done.  Or not.

Last night I had a meeting and then plans to meet for dinner with my husband so we could "talk" about shit that's going on and where things are headed.  Between my meeting and dinner I had just enough time to run a few towns away to deliver a cd to some clients.  As I was wrapping up my meeting I realized my arms felt a little tingly.  That's usually a sign of an asthma attack coming on.  No big thing, I knew my inhaler was in my diaper bag at my parent's house a few miles away, figured I'll bust ass over to drop the CD, get back to mom and dad's, grab my inhaler and get to dinner...and who knows, depending on how dinner goes, maybe a little fun after.  *wink wink nudge nudge*

WRONG.

By the time I made 15 minutes in the car, my asthma attack, which normally isnt a big deal...had me driving with my arms over my head to try to open up my chest cavity (yeah, like that's safe), legs arms and even my jaw buzzing because oxygen wasn't circulating well enough and starting to feel a black out coming on...a feeling I only know from a wicked cool blood donation experience which resulted in my opening my eyes being held by a total hottie.
While my client loves me, I doubted she wanted me passing out in her family room so having learned some things working recently with the fire dept, I drove another 2 blocks and walked into the local fire station asking for help.  I knew not to breath fast, but I tried the long in the through nose, out through the mouth shit they taught us in our birthing class which, for the record...we ditched the last 2 days of cuz I didnt plan on a c-section...of course, I had one.  Well the in through the nose, out through the mouth thing...yeah it just made it worse.

They call for a few guys to come in and wouldn't ya know, one of them TOTALLY took my mind off my asthma.  Sweet baby Jane this guy was smokin, built, and had no ring on (and no tan line from a ring...I'm a photographer and looking at being back on the market...I notice these things).  I considered asking him if he thought mouth to mouth would help...BUT damn my conscience and the fact that I refuse to b ethat girl who starts playin the field before my divorce is over.  At the end of the day, I still deep down love my husband too much to disrespect him that way.

They hooked me up to the pulse-ox monitor, took my BP etc etc and after some discussion, convinced me to let them take me to the ER.  Awesome.  Just what I had planned for my Tuesday night.  I giggled as I realized I had made it to 32 years old with countless car accidents, injuries and illnesses and had never gotten to ride in an ambulance before.  It was kinda fun.  The lady in the ambulance was super sweet and because of the way my lungs sounded, the started me on a double nebulizer treatment right away.  THIS resulted in my heart rate shooting up and me wanting to get out of the ambulance, strip off my shirt and run along behind them barking.  Albuterol jacks me up.

I suppose its EMT humor, but the 3rd time the geeky kid driving the ambulance said "heh, we haven't dropped one yet", I stopped snickering at it.  Thank God I wasn't the 1st.  Into the ER, gotta love no waiting room...hooked up to everything and sure as shit even after the neb treatment my o2 levels were down.  YAY.  Bring on another albuterol treatment.  Remember this scene from Biodome?



I FEEL LIKE A DUCKBILLED PLATYPUS!  As I sat in the room alone, with a long tube sticking out of my face and smoke coming out the end, that wasn't my EXACT thought, but more along the lines of feeling like this guy:


I finally got to texting and filled in my mom and dad, called the hubs and he came to meet me at the ER.  I do appreciate him keeping me company.  Have to admit, most of the time he was there was fun.

A loading dose of prednisone, another double nebulizer treatment, a diagnosis of bronchitis on top of my asthma and we were outta there.  Now like that isn't enough, or the fact that the evening reduced itself to a fight in the car...I get to MY car and guess what, my freakin headlights don't work...only the brights.
*insert me cussing 1st, then crying, then cussing, then getting out of my car and kicking my car*

The Hubs offered to help.  Well, uhm, me+prednisone+in a fight=me saying I didnt want his help.  Dumbass.  So he headed off and I said fuck it, I'll drive with my brights on.  I mean, its only...10 miles to my parents house and another 50 miles home.  LMAO.  By the time I hit the last leg of my trip home I was screaming "SWEET JESUS I KNOW MY BRIGHTS ARE ON!" at pretty much every car that drove by.  I really hated the Dbags who would turn theirs on and leave them on.  Really...does that make them feel better????
How I didn't get pulled over, is beyond me.  I secretly prayed that if I did get pulled over, it would be a hot cop.  I mean, if you're gonna get a ticket, might as well make it worth while by having some eye candy.  I made it home just in time to not lose my mind completely...give my boy (who also has bronchitis) his nebulizer treatment and try to salvage my night by catching up on some lame TV.

Today has been a rock n roll day.  Ive rearranged the furniture in 3 rooms of my house, scrubbed my kitchen cabinets, my hard wood floors, my woodwork and all my wood furniture, and am TRYING to keep Moose and I on the same albuterol schedule so we're jacked up at the same time.  Could be a long few days.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Yup

I got nothing to say, just wanted to share my new do (to be cut again tomorrow) and my color...a revive from a few months ago.  Love the red.  XOXO!

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Pony-ing up...eww that made me gag

Well, it had to happen eventually.  I've been avoiding this post like the plague but in light of my recent decisions and based on the fact that done is done, it's time to own up to what's been going on and why I haven't been posting lately.

I posted a while back about being separated and how it had hit me that the men in my life, friends, family etc, would play a major roll in my son's upbringing since daddy dearest isn't around much.  At that time, I was still hopeful that a reconciliation was coming...uhm...cuz that's what he (stbxh also known as dumbshit who threw away the best thing ever) said.  See...I'm not an idiot.  I'm street smart and I know when I'm being played...usually.  I'm also a sucker for love and well quite frankly, you THINK you know someone.

Here's how it all went down.
Lose baby.  Get pregnant.  Have baby.  Get post pardum stupid depression.  Don't realize it.  *insert me stating here that one would think since he had been through PPD with his 1st wife...oh I don't know...maybe HE would have recognized it.  OH wait! He did, he just never tried to get me help*.  At the same time have court shit go down with 1st wife (his clearly, not mine) and bang...we get what has been referred to as "essentially a midlife crisis".

I dunno about you, but when I think midlife crisis, I think this:

When he thinks midlife crisis, apparently he thinks this:
Mmmmm, river horse lovvvvvvvvve

Catty.  I know.  Would you expect any less?  I gotta say though, if I was a guy and I was going to risk a marriage with a woman who did all the laundry, dishes, yard work, cleaning, took care of my kids from my 1st marriage as though they were my own, gave me my only son who I wanted so bad, and kept me more than happy in the bed room, it'd be with some smokin hot chick not a river horse.  Guess we don't think alike...maybe thats why our marriage didnt work.  

So back to how it went down...he starts going out at night, staying out till 4am or in that neighborhood.  Bars close at 1 around here.  A so called friend of mine, who's known to be the local drive thru, was having him over to her parents' private bar and her friends houses.  Nice.  Super classy.  Not surprising since infidelity is like her middle name.  
I'll never know if he started stripping off her fat suit ...

(ya know, those one piece things old women wear under their clothes to hold all their fat in...yeah she's a huge fan of them, talks about them all the time...even has a favorite brand which I'm guessing is the above cuz I know its a Walmart special) before or after he left home.  Frankly, I don't want to know.  What I do know is, I asked and asked specifically about HER cuz she ran her mouth too much.  He lied.  Not surprised, he always said he could be walked in on and would still deny cheating.  Just some eww factor to the fact that I was still gettin it on with him while he was gettin it on with the a woman who'd been around the block like Richard Petty goin around Taladega.  *shudders*  yeah....I'm awaiting STD screening results.

***Here is where I humbly swallow my pride and say to his 1st wife that she was right about a lot of things about him.  I didn't want to believe it when she said after a few years he'd get bored, start hitting bars and bang some younger chick from down the road (damn, she called that).  I didnt believe that he would do to me what he did to her cuz well...I'm me.  Yeah.  Clearly, once a cheater always a cheater. So, you know who you are and if you're still stalking me...you were right!***

Now that I'm done gagging down my pride...back to the story.

So we separate, blah blah, months of counseling and "we're working on fixing things" goes by...which now, looking back is far too reminiscent of our high school dating days, minus the counseling of course. 

About a month ago, he came clean about the affair.  I want to say I was surprised but I wasn't.  2 reasons...#1, he not only didnt have time for me, but also didnt have time to take his week day visitation with our son...his kids are the world to him, and having been the other woman the 1st time around with him, I knew the only thing he would blow his kid off for was someone he was really in love with or someone spreadin' it like I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.  And #2, when a the WAY a person has sex changes (like the actual physical things they do, especially when its weird shit) there is only one of 2 reasons for it, one is that they are watching a LOT of porn and getting ideas...since he's living in his mom's basement with his 3 kids from his 1st marriage...unlikely.  The second reason a person changes how they have sex is if they're having it with someone else and that person is influencing how they do things.  I noticed.  I noticed in April.

Anyway, it only took 3 days after admitting to the affair and me saying he could take a hike, for him to decide he wanted to be with me, so he claimed to have cut ties with her, pushed off our divorce date, and made a laundry list of things he was going to do to prove to me that I could trust him.

Uhm...note to guys.  When you give your wife access to your email account, but not before cleaning out the inbox, don't forget to clean out the SENT BOX TOO!!!  
I got to see the cute posts she put up on his facebook page, things like "I love you so fucking much" and about him cooking dinner for her and not being able to sleep without him. 

*This is where I point at our so called mutual friends (you know who you are) and say "don't fucking lie and say you didn't know, it was all over his FB page"*

I got to see the pictures of his penis he sent to her phone.  Note to Iphone users, your pic messages go through your email...which means they stay in your email sent box.  Nice.  Guess I should just be glad the pics of his junk that he sent to me werent the same ones he sent to her.  We weren't being mass flashed via cell phone, we each got individual attention.

OH and mind you, all this was going on behind her husband's back...oh no wait, she had the balls to tell him about it pretty much up front.  She even filed for divorce because her and my hubby were going to run off and have a happy fairytale life together.  He despises horses, she has horses.  She doesnt want anything to do with kids, he has 4.  Clearly you can see they were a match made in heaven.  Turns out that chasing after so called unattainable guys is like a game for her.  We weren't the 1st couple she got between and I doubt we will be the last.  She told me once, before we stopped being friends, that she had slept with 84 guys.  Since she's been with her husband pretty much since high school, you do the math on how that works out with being faithful.  Once she realized the kids weren't going to be ditched she started changing her mind.  

So fast forward 4 ish weeks to now, almost nothing being done by him to prove that he wants to fix things, and definitely nothing to prove I can trust him...although he claims that's cuz his mom won't let him print out his phone records (his phone is in her name) to show me he isn't still talking to the mistress who dresses up like an old time cowboy and shoots balloons with guns (man, how could I NOT have seen how incredibly attractive this chick is, I mean what guy WOULDN'T WANT HER!!)...and I hit the wall last week and realized that my heart will always ache for the man I lost, but he's been gone for a long time.  My head took over and I know that not only am I better off without him, my son is better off with us not trying to reconcile.  I'm not even going down the why would his mommy not let him print that and why would he let her make life decisions for him like that road.  

So fixing things no longer means holding my tongue in hopes of healing a broken marriage...it means moving on.  I'm done, I've washed my hands of this whole ugly mess.  Hopalong Cassidy can have him if she wants him.  I miss my step daughters but such is life.  Moose is my only concern.  That perfect marriage and incredible love that I bragged about early on in my posting days is done and over and I say fuck it!  I've cried all the tears I had to cry and burned as many bridges as I could between me and him and I WILL live my life and be happy from here on out.

So that's the scoop.  That's why I wasnt blogging, I had little to say that wouldn't have made you all want to slit your wrists for a while and when I DID want to post it would have been way out of line mean.  But I'm back, and I'm bold, and I've found myself again and I'm happy.  So look out blog readers, I'm back to my snarky fun self and will be posting regularly again :)

OH And PS...thank you to my husband and his mistress for the stress...I've lost 74 lbs total, dropped 4 dress sizes and feel AMAZING and confident and beautiful thanks to them!  I'M BACK, BITCHES!






Thursday, August 11, 2011

The Scarlet Letter





Let me tell you a tale about what happens when someone falls off the stupid tree and lands in such a manner as to cram their head square up their sphincter.

There are so many things a person can do that make everyone stop and stare in confusion and amazement at the wonder of the sheer absurdity of their actions.  Right now, one in particular...er I guess 2, stick out like a well quite frankly like a hooker in a high class establishment.  Although hookers get paid...just sayin.

Its a funny thing about small towns.  Townies think they're untouchable.  They think they have a God given right to act like they're better than everyone else.  News flash, decades of family members never venturing out of a 6 block by 11 block middle of nowhere village does not produce top breeding quality.  It produces wide child bearing hips and kids with buck teeth *cough*inbreeding*cough*.

I was born in a small town and I like the small town life, until that is, I have to deal with that sort of townie.  Here's the thing.  I don't give a fuck who you or the horse you rode in on think you are, I'm NOT the person to start a war with.  No one is untouchable and thinking you're entitled only makes you look like a stupid cunt.

So back to absurd actions...aside from the entire concept of delusions of grandeur...well, I'll just say it flat out.  Fucking another woman's husband is a BAD IDEA.
When you watch a mess like that unravel no matter how close or far you are from the core of it, its like seeing not one train but stacks and stacks of trains wreck into one another and topple every which way as they spill off the tracks.  I wanna quote songs left and right cuz we had a blast on FB the other day posting the videos of all the songs we could think of that refer to this sort of stupidity and whorish actions.  I will try to refrain from too much of it.

When you cheat.  It gets out.  There is NO such thing as an affair that no one ever finds out about.  Someone always slips, gets psycho, changes their mind, or confides in the wrong person.  Uhm this situation that I watched unravel over the last few weeks...gets a big check check check and check on all those points.  Long story short, once upon a time a girl THOUGHT she had a good friend and entrusted her friend with her emotions and feelings about her and her husband drifting apart.  Said "friend" turned out to be a skeevy homewrecker with an inability to  keep her pussy glued shut and her hands off other people's man meat.  Oh, and have I mentioned, she's married.  Yeah.  Klassy with a capital K.  That's right, I said K, not C.  Get with it.

Well, sluts are sluts at any age and guys are stupid and think with their little heads.  Skeevy bitch+marriage in trouble+mediocre sex with said skeevy bitch=short term affair.  Like all that's not stupid enough, there's 2 things that people never think about before they do something like this.

1.  What do you REALLY know about the person who you're crossing.  People let you know what they want you to know about them.  The secrets that lie beneath are what create the core fabric of who those people are and unless you know how tightly threaded they are and if there are holes or if they're made of kevlar and spikes...you really should choose who you go to battle with very cautiously.  Some people have no problem in a situation like this, putting it out there for the world to know that the affair happened.  And that's what happened here.  The wife finds out, and BAM the whole town knows, the whole internet knows, literally by name...who, what, where, and when.  In a town of less than a thousand people, news like that spreads like wide fire and that's just what the wife wanted...especially because the skeever has a rep for this shit already.

Remember, we're talking about a townie whore, that means lots of family and long time friends now know what's happened.  The chick actually had the balls to ask the wife to apologize for letting everyone know what happened.  Really?  Are you out of your shit spreadin, corn shuckin, cousin kissin mind?!?!  How, in ANY WAY, is what happened, or it getting out, something the wife should have to apologize for?  Simple truth is, if you dont want it to get out, don't do it.  If it gets out, you have no one to blame but yourself for spreadin yourself like I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

I was tryin for a vision, I got static instead...

So I literally had nothing to write about for weeks and week.  Life was blessedly boring following some major male drama...but boring to the point of causing me to wish someone would stick me with a red hot poker just to liven things up.  The only thing going was the threat of imprisonment or a lashing with a billy club...gotta respect the uniform.

With a court date for the split of the century looming on this morning's horizon, I found myself struggling to calm my mind last night.  This lead to being on Facebook WAY TOO FUCKING LATE.  To those of you who kept me up chatting...shame.  Ok not really.  You know I love you!  :)  XOXOX

Hold the phone...I have to back up.  Yesterday, I had a shoot...possibly one of my last paying gigs but I wont get into the bullshit that surrounds that train wreck of epic proportions.  It was a 1st communion for a family that uhm...doesn't speak much English.  I...speak no Spanish.  My loving sister, was supposed to be there to sort of kind of oh I dont know...translate...but she failed to board her plane home from Florida the night before.  Awesome.

You know its going to either be a great day or a horrible day, when you arrive at a photoshoot and the 1st thing they do is hand you food with habaneros in it (fucking awesome food) and a margarita...before you ever even get your camera out of the bag.  The shoot was great, I shot a TON of photos of one of the most amazing families I have ever been blessed to meet...and left there feeling like Mt. Vesuvius was rumbling in my belly.  Hours later, upon arriving home...something just seemed...not right in my house.

Around 9, I heard noises upstairs.  No bullshit, I thought someone was in my house.  So what do I do...I put on my cowboy boots (because clearly, they would protect my feet from a rapist/thief/serial killer) and donning my lead weighted baseball bat...make my way not so quietly up my creeky 156 yr old stairs.  I should have just shouted "HEY...I'M FUCKING COMING UP THERE SO YOU BETTER NOT BE AN INTRUDER!"  Of course...being that said...I bolted into room after room, back to the wall, baseball bat ready to be swung all NCIS style to find...nothing.  Weird.  What the hell were those noises?  Perhaps I was losing my mind.  Maybe the margaritas were laced.  I had no idea.  

Midnight rolls around and I had to force myself off the computer and to bed for the sake of my poor little mind that had to be court ready by 6am.  Not cool.  In my normal style, I found myself a wife beater tank top and pair of shorts and flopped into bed.  I flopped into bed.  I flopped the fuck into bed WHICH resulted in the bed collapsing under me.  OH YEAH.  Nothing says "HEY FAT ASS...TAKE IT EASY ON ME!" like a collapsed bed.  Fuck you bed.  I've lost 65 lbs!!!  To be honest, this is my husband's fault.  See, years ago we removed the headboard of this cheap "free with purchase of mattress and box spring" brass bed because it was uh...banging holes into the wall.  The problem is, the headboard really served as a shim for the frame.  As a result of our rowdy decision to go headboardless for the sake of our room's paint job...the frame was NEVER really tightly bolted after that.  One rail squeaked and rattled and was loose from then on.  He always said he would fix it, clearly...that never happened.  Over the last few month, it has loosened up even more and last night, it bent far enough that the casters on the ends of the legs snapped; sending me into a world of pissed off that I can't even describe.

I tossed my mattress and box spring aside, yanked the cheap metal frame out from under them, threw it up on its side and slid it out to the porch.  While pulling this queen sized monstrosity through my door, the screen door...which doenst stay open on its own (and shall be referenced again in this story) fell shut on the bed frame smashing it into me and ripping a hole in my side...which I would soon forget about in my exhaustion...but not before picking the frame up and chucking it out into the middle of my front yard.

Sleep came easy.  Until about 3am.  I woke to noises that I was not familiar with.  The dog was pacing frantically.  Again, I was certain someone was either in or trying to get into my house.  I shot up like a lightening bolt and rushed out of the room, wielding my trusty baseball bat.  Because ya know...wielding my GUN would be so unreasonable with an intruder.  Again, I found NOTHING.  I looked all around the house, heard no noises, saw no signs of forced entry or anything of the sort.  Gave up, went back to bed.  1 hour later, shit hit the fan.

The dog was going ape shit, I heard this chattering noise I had never heard before in my life and I was shocked to consciousness from a dream featuring my favorite member of law enforcement, a set of cuffs, and a saddle.  Ok, maybe not a saddle.  In a split second I realized that the noises I had heard earlier had not been someone talking quietly...there was a fucking animal in my house...and I dont mean me, the dog, or the cat.  Something wild.  Again, I don't mean me.  I jumped up in my tiny booty shorts, wife beater tank top and did the only logical thing I could do.  Put on my cowboy boots!!!  WTF else would stop a critter from eatin my legs?!?  Baseball bat in hand...yes, again...I stumbled out of my room, into the living room and could ascertain from the chirping/screaming/chattering that whatever didn't belong in my fucking house, was cornered by my German Shep...and PISSED OFF about it.

I was certain that one of the many squirrels living in my hollow tree next to my house had finagled its way in the dog door while I was at my photoshoot that day, somehow miraculously escaping death at the jaws of both my 100 pound dog and my 25 pound cat.  Clearly, this would be difficult to catch.  As I drew nearer the corner, the chattering stopped.  Looking back, I should have probably taken this as some sort of warning sign.  But 4am makes you retarded and not in an insulting way, just literally slower than normal.  And I was moving at the wicked speed of molasses.  I took one last step forward and like a ... I dunno, some animal that's cornered and scared for its life...it lunged at me!!!

No.  It didn't lunge.  It FLEW at me.  Before I realized what I was doing; I ducked, covered, and screamed "FUCKING BAT!  ITS A FUCKING BAT!  THERE'S A FUCKING BAT IN MY HOUSE!!!!"
Just ya know, incase my 18 month old...or one of my pets who were clearly already on top of this situation...were not aware of what was now doing figure 8's around my living and dining rooms.

It's amazing what 4am does to your mind.  This  bat was HUGE.  FUCKING HUGE.  9-10 inch wing span...body the size of a rat.  Not a mouse...a RAT.  I narrowly escaped stroking out and either out of instinct or desperation and fear of it latching onto my neck and turning me into Bella's long lost twin (BTW, I havent read or seen any of those books/movies so yeah...if my reference is off, suck it.)...I began swinging my baseball bat wildly at the Ozzy Osbourne snack circling my small abode.

My screaming had woken the baby who was now sitting at the door of my bedroom (which thankfully I had been smart enough to close) pointing at the bat through the glass French doors...and giggling.  The dog, who is half blind from what you will all remember, is a disease called PANNUS not to be confused with Panis which you can order pills online to increase the size of...was jumping into the air like some sort of strange fucked up dolphin trying to reach a fish that the zoo keeper was taunting it with.  God love my dog, she really tried to catch that batty little fucker, she just couldnt see him very well.  Meanwhile, the cat had decided to join us and was sitting on the banister swatting at the bat...clearly not all that interested in catching it. 

Here's the thing about bats...they have radar or sonar, or some kind or AR and they can SENSE a baseball bat being swung at them, even when the person handling the bat is wearing protective cowboy boots.  Who knew?

At this point I decided the best course of action would be to sprawl myself out marathon runner style, one leg stretched WAY back to hold open my god damn door that wouldnt hold itself open, while the other was balled up under me so I could hide behind my dining room table and swing awkwardly at the bat with my bat when it came by...because clearly...any intelligent creature would risk being hit with a Louisville Slugger to get past me and out the door.  Again...4am.  Thinking...not so clear.

After, I shit you not, 40 minutes of this, I gave up as did the dog.  I scurried on all 4's past the still flying rat with wings and into my room to ... yes ... call my mommy.  She giggled, then gave me some ideas for catching it including using a blanket and throwing it over it...ya know...all Great Outdoors/Blacksheep style.  I have deduced that if I had John Candy, David Spaude, or Chris Farley here with me, this would have worked.  Prior to many failed attempts to blanket this beast...I noticed in the mirror that the side of my tank top was ripped and bloody.  HOLY FUCK!  The god damn vampire bastard got me!!!  I almost fainted!  I was sure I had rabies and was going to die.  Does rabies cause lock-jaw because I couldnt un-clench my teeth!  Would rabies REALLY be like becoming a ravenous zombie like I've read??  What would become of my child and pets when I became a rabies zombie.  4 am, is nothing short of awesome.  

Now I was pissed.  How dare this thing attack me, especially without me noticing it.  Sneaky fucker.  Now I was freaking out.  I did the only sane thing to do.  I called my husband, from whom I am currently separated.  Yeah.  He was THRILLED to hear from me.  And of even less help that my mom.  I cried "but it scratched or bit me, I'm going to die if I dont catch it and get it tested" to which he responded by telling me to call someone.  Uhm...duh...that's what I'm doing.  I'm calling you.  Come save me and YOUR SON!  That didn't work.  I hung up.  Fuck it.  The blanket attempts were a total fail.  A call to a friend in town provided minor amusement when (sorry doll, you know I love you) her husband showed up smashed to try to help me catch a bat that he was certain was only a figment of my imagination.  Trust me.  It wasnt.

At this point, I had to be up to get ready for court in 45 minutes.  I was punchy, dizzy from lack of sleep, unsure of where this tiny flying freak had hidden itself, and ready to completely melt down.  I didnt want to leave my pets here with it, but I had no choice.  I prayed it had found its way back into the attic whose access was cracked open.  I pulled that shut and took off for a long day of court and doc apts.  

To be perfectly honest, my day wasnt bad.  It was somewhere around lunch time that I remembered my tangle in the doorway with the bed frame.  A short burst of hysterical laughter rang out from my lips when I realized that my husband who wants so badly to not care about me so he can be strong enough to walk away from me...thought I had been attacked by a rabid bat when in reality, I had been attacked by remnants of my former sex life with him.  Ah, there's some irony in there that my sleep deprived brain is missing.  But I'm sure, its a freaking riot.


Upon returning home, I had a new attitude, new strength and had been filled with the power of knowledge about bats...and a Wilson tennis racket.  See, the radar-y fuckers can sense baseball bats, but not the netting of a tennis racket.  This is good to know.  File this in your useless flying rodent fact file.

Bandana on, gardening gloves on, cowboy boots on (duh, we've covered this), tennis racket in one hand, box and duct tape in the other hand, and beer crammed in the pocket of my jeans, spilling ever so slightly...I went room by room by room over turning and checking every piece of furniture...every nicknack...every toy...you name it.  The last room to hit was my studio.  I was sure the bat had gone back up to the attic.  I was actually relieved.  It was almost dusk, and it would wake soon and find its way back out of my house and life would go on.  I started cleaning up some things around my studio and turned to face it.  The bat.  Hanging upside down from the beach towel I was using as a curtain.  Funny...it seemed much smaller not flying at my face at what seemed like Nascar speeds.  Honestly, it was kinda cute hanging there all sound asleep.  Oh, except for the fact that it was a disease carrying blind glorified field mouse with paper thin wings IN MY MOTHER FUCKING HOUSE.  

It took some working up.  I knew what I had to do...stun it with a slight smack from the netting of the tennis racket, then put it in the box (already prepped with holes so it could breathe) tape it up, take it to Animal Control tomorrow where they would test it and make sure it didnt have rabies...just incase it had bitten my dog or cat.  

Here's the thing.  I never really played sports.  I rode horses.  That doesn't count when it comes to anything involving a hard object that you swing with your arms.  After what seemed like eternity, I took 2 steps forward and swung the racket.  Uhm.  Yeah.  I didn't hit it as planned.  I hit it with the edge.  It's poor tiny bones in its poor tiny spine snapped clean in half and it fell in the same position it had been hanging in, to the floor, clearly broken and dead.  That image will likely haunt me for a while, as will the image of its batty face screeching and flying at me the night before.  So tonight, the bat is in a box taped up Ft. Knox style in my garage...and I hope to hell he was one of a kind and I get some sleep tonight.

I have an epic gouge on my side that looks like I was hit by a car...from a bed that now rests in the garbage pile...one more sign of things past and gone.  And my house is secure...but just incase...my cowboy boots are sitting in wait.  

Some days never end.  Thank God today is coming to a close.  So RIP little misguided bat who turned my world upside down.  Sorry you got whacked.  And to you other bats and critters, don't be a rebel!  Stay out of my house and I'll leave you alone.  I'm off to dream land, see ya there, officer ;)

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Its been a while, and its not that I'm lacking the motivation or desire to write its just that I've found out that single life is wicked fun and time consuming.

So a couple months ago, some pussy reader made a twat-tastic anonymous comment on a post that she clearly didn't read carefully.  I THOUGHT I was being pensive about the types of male role models I was going to choose to surround my son with but apparently I was being superficial and needed to move on.  Not sure what I needed to move on from, thought that was exactly what I was doing.

But I took the bitches advice and said fuck it.









My last couple months have looked something like this:

Monday, May 16, 2011

Love a man in Uniform

Or out of it.  Or a uniformed man.  Now lets be specific, I'm not talkin navy so don't get excited there, sailor.  I know its exciting to be a seaman but thats not the kind of excitement I'm lookin for these days.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

WELL SHIT!

It's here!  Today is the day we celebrate the brightness and joy brought into this world 26 years ago...ok fine...28 years ago...OK OK!  32 years ago...that is YOURS TRULY!!!

Yup.  It's my birthday!  (imagine me jumping up and down right now saying WISH ME HAPPY BDAY! YOU FUCKERS!)

Once upon a time, pampered city girl met horse loving country boy and they got it on and produced this gem you have all come to know as the loud mouth, opinionated, hardcore bitch on wheels...Abby (formerly the 21st Century Domestic Goddess who denounced her throne of domesticity in hopes of a life filled with more fun and less dirty socks!).

Me age 1-ish

The last few months have been a rollercoaster ride which have quite frankly been much needed and brought me back to being more myself than I have been in years.  When thrown into a situation, you alter your attitude...your ideals and hell even your life.  But fuck that noise.  I'm done being something and someone that stretches my skin into a shape not my own.  I'm not a Stepford wife, I'm a wild crazy fun wife.  I'm not a PTO mom, I'm the kinda mom who squirts people with the kitchen sink sprayer.  I didnt fit Stepford/PTO and its nice to be back to the rocker I used to be.

Me...Yesterday (literally)

Love me or hate me, either way I don't give a fuck.  Those who hate me enough to be bold about it give me something to giggle about.  If they're talkin, you're doing something right. ;)

I woke up today with a smile on my face, my baby boy by my side, and a message waiting for me on my phone from the love of my life.  It doesn't get a lot better than that in my book.  Score #1!

I got the coffee brewing and realized we're out of milk.  *hangs head and drops a fuck bomb or 2* but guess what...turns out rice milk in coffee is awesomely yummy.  Much thanks to my lactose intolerant son!  Score #2.

It could take my years to reply to all the bday wishes I'm getting on my phone and FB and vm...so as it turns out I DO have friends.  *gasp!*  and awesome ones at that!  
So my busy busy day is off to a great start.  Life is lookin up every day.  The sun is shining.  My hair is rockin like my attitude and my life!  

So bring it on 32!  Give me the best you've got to give or expect me to swing back.  This bitch is done rollin over on command!



So for my bday, here is a quote from a woman who kicked as much ass as I do...that pretty much fits me to a T:

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." 
— Marilyn Monroe