Revamp From Head to Toe

Hola my friends!!  I missed you all!

It's been a while and I've been pretty few and far between with the posts...it happens.  Sometimes life runs away with you in crazy uncontrollable situations and things like blogs and sanity get tossed by the wayside temporarily. But no worries, I kept my sanity to a whackadoo level and below so we're back in swing now.  There will be no more long hiatuses, no more blog down for revamps, and I no longer give a flying rat's ass about stalking.

So why the revamp??  Because my entire life needed an overhaul and got it, so why not my blog too.
Face it.  You can try and try and try to force a square through a circle but it just doesn't work sometime...
My 21st Century Domestic Goddess blog was all about my attempts to avoid being branded as a domestic wife, mother, care taker, etc and maintain my freedom and gypsy (albeit flaky) spirit.  My husband said it best...this:

...is just not me.  It's  not who I am.

A leopard can't change his spots.  I'm a damn good mom, a kick ass fun wife, I keep a clean and fairly organized house...I can cook like a son of a bitch (thus the extra poundage I'm trying desperately to shed) but forcing myself into the cookie cutter shape of the housewife and feeling like I was competing with some of my favorite mom bloggers who shine like Martha Stewart all spiffied up on her 1st post prison tv appearance...made me a snarky, pissy, unhappy biatch on wheels.

So.  Fuck it!

I'm not a domestic goddess.  I never will be.  I'm a goddess of my own sort who can do domestic things but refuses to force herself into a mold that wasn't made for her because quite frankly, when I do that...I hate myself so I can't imagine I'm much fun for anyone else who's around me.

Time to let myself shine through.  The husband gets home from work, dinner might be made, it might not.  Or  I just might call him on his way home and say "pick up Taco Hell".  I may or may  not mow the lawn, I may or may not do the dishes.  I will allow myself to let a pile of laundry build up on the floor of the laundry room and not spaz that someone might be upset about it, because the only one ever upset about it is me.

I will go out, I will shoot pics, I will shoot guns, I will continue getting tattoos, and I will embrace my gypsy so long as she comes home to the man she loves.  I will have wild passionate crazy sex with him because that's how we roll.  I, though I dislike referring to myself as a square, will not shove my ass through that circle that I don't fit in.  No more domestic Goddess.  Just me.  The angel my husband loves.  THIS is me!! (27 lbs lost since Jan 1st, btw!  Uhm...kickin' ass and takin'  names?...I say so!)

In honor of my new found attitude, er...old re-found attitude...and decision to stop trying to force myself to be something I'm not...I have new ink, some new toys, a new attitude (at least about some things), and a newly designed blog focused on anything and everything that I feel like talking about because face it, the laundry though funny at times...is still just the laundry.  Who cares.  It's not about fighting domesticity anymore, its about being me, expressing myself, venting and generally just ranting about whatever the fuck I want to because as of now, this is still a free country.  And YES...I'm entitled to do so ;)

So welcome to the new and improved blog run by the new and improved me.
Now...introducing my new (unfinished) ink (3 hours in...have another 3 hours to go):

From a2a

From a2a

This is me...my new wild red:

From a2a

I'm untamed.  I'm unbridled.  I'm rowdy, I'm loud, I'm obnoxious, I cuss.  I do not believe the kitchen is only for cooking in.  I vacuum crumbs off the counters because I think it makes sense.  I shoot guns, I hate working in the yard, as a matter of fact...I'm really just not a big fan of the outdoors unless it involves a beach or something to photograph.  I like to be dirty, I work on cars.  I want nothing to do with scrapbooking, PTA/PTO, or playgroups (no offense to my friends who have invited me to theirs...I love you all but I just have other shit I'd like to get done).  

I'm not going to apologize for who I am or how I act and I'm not curbing it just to keep anyone happy anymore.  The people who love me, love me for the person that I am...so take the domestic house wife expectations and shove them square up your keister!  I'm doing it my way from now on.  No more 21st Century Domestic Goddess...this life is being lived according to Abby now.

I have a right to...

I've had a lot of shit in my life lately.  And when I say shit, I mean shit...not shit as in stuff...shit as in stinky no good crap that has no real positive purpose (unless it comes from some farm animal which can then be turned into fertilizer...which sadly, this shit is not) metaphorically speaking that is.  Although, yesterday was a major baby shit day.  And as a woman, an analytical mind, and an over thinker...I have been processing said metaphoric shit like a cow digesting grass.  That means over and over and over, just FYI.

As I have waded my way through the muck and mire, I have come to realize that people are such assholes!  I mean, I already knew that...but holy fuck, do people think they're entitled, or what?!?

If someone isn't talking shit, and someone isn't being nasty to someone else, you can damn well bet that someone is playing games with someone else.  Not all the same someones, necessarily...although I suppose in some cases it could be a single someone.  ;)  I have sat back and from my own chair in the room full of shit, watched people play with each other's emotions and opinions and actual lives.

In the last 2 months I have witnessed first hand a grown man playing with his friends like they're finely carved marionettes...dancing husband and wife around like little toys while sticking his freakishly small nose in the midst of all their business.  And for what?  Sheer amusement?  Or possibly just because he's a giant walking douche bag in work boots...can't say for sure.  What I can say is that this supposed adult thinks he's entitled to talk shit back and forth to both parties of this marriage...all because someone upset him.
Hmmm.  Let me make this one simple for you.  No one.  I'll repeat that in case you're slow today...NO ONE has a right to toy with people's lives like that.

Perhaps he had his fragile feelings hurt.  Or his sad little ego bruised.  Maybe it's because deep inside him lurks a green eyed monster, jealous because his own pathetic excuse for matrimonial union and lame attempt at family tanked like the Hindenburg...

How's that for entitled?  Ya see, turn around is fair play.  Each person can feel that they have a right to say and do something but so rarely does anyone want something done to them.  The golden rule is like a two way mirror.  Everyone wants to see out, but no one wants someone looking in.  So if said douche bag in boots were privy to internet connections or blog addresses (which undoubtedly...one reader in particular will be happy to provide to him) in his corn crib...I'm sure he would read this with disdain.  But like I said.  If one feels entitled, one must expect others to feel the same.

I have felt the sting, no not the sting, the aggravation of a consistent stream of snark spat my way recently also.  Now mind you, this is nothing new.  From an elder, yes.  But from a member of the upright homosapien species in general...it's nothing new.

Entitlement comes quickly to those involved in close relationships.  Families, close friends, members of the same group.  When someone gets a neat new toy...especially if it's something someone else has already owned in a past life...entitlement rears its ugly head.  No, you don't get to just handle my new toy in whatever manner you want just because you owned one once and never broke yours.  This is my toy.  Get your own if you want another one!  And IF, I stress the I to the F of that...IF you are privileged enough for me to share my toy with you on any number of occasions, I expect you to care for it in the manner which I ask you to.

Don't think that you're better than me, that your ways are better than mine, or that you know what is best.  Bottom line is that the toy belongs to me.  Not you.  Not us.  Me.  And you are not entitled to play with it in any way you choose.


I'm a pretty bold person.  I don't have a problem taking what I want from life and yea, I've stepped on toes, feet, and necks to get where I am today.  I have acted like I'm entitled to do whatever I want whenever I want and where ever I want...hell even with whoever I want.  Does that make it right for others to act that way, not really.  Does that stop them...definitely not.  I guess more than anything I'm shocked as of late at the types of people who have been acting this way and to whom they've been directing their actions.  See it's a rough life, people have drama and stress no matter how they try to avoid it.  Friends and family should be the last people adding to it by acting like they're owed some special fucking prize or have some right to get in the middle of other people's shit.

News flash to any and all who act this way:  You're not entitled.  You have no right.  You need to grow up.