So I COMPLETELY forgot about CRAZY BITCHES in yesterday's post! How could I??????
I spent so much of my life dealing with crazy bitches! Maybe I've just been institutionalized to the idea of crazy bitches...
*rubs imaginary goatee and in a German accent says: Very Very Interesting...*
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
BITCHES & Hos...is it Hos or Hoes?
Ok not really hos er hoes. Just bitches. Yup. Blog about bitches. Who woulda thunk it?
Bitches like me? Wait...what...? ;) Or bitches that just say "Wait...what?" waaaaaaaaaaaay too often...think of the Southpark episode where Cartman says "Hella" all the time...YUP! It's kinda like that.
I promised my mom a blog about bitches and the sizes, shapes, and types they come in. My mom? Why yes...my mom...THE bitch, the woman who raised me right and taught me everthing she knows about living up to the B word in all it's man controlling, woman crushing, god like power wielding glory. How, does one end up promising a blog about bitches to their mother, you ask? Well, it went something like this:
We (my parents, Moose, and myself) were at dinner the other night and what sounded like the word "bitch" came out of the mouth of my precious 16 month old. Yup. The kid says maybe 80 words and that's apparently one of them. The table fell silent for a brief second and then my father burst into hysterical laughter. At this point I realized that it was quite likely that Moose really HAD said that word. Awesome #1. This is not the 1st time I heard this word come from my sweet sweet baby boy's mouth. A few weeks back I dropped something and swore he said "bitch". I actually, without thinking that a 16 month old's comprehension and Q&A skills are not fully developed yet, asked him "did you just say bitch?"
He shook his head yes in huge up and down motions and said "yup" and walked away. I will never really know if he knew what we were talking about or not. I will always wonder!
So back to how this turned into a blog post. In a Gilmore Girls like exchange immediately following my father bursting into maniacal laughter, my mom and I bantered something like this:
Me: Bitch! What kinda bitch? Like Son of a bitch...because he totally is!
Her: Dumb bitch?
Me: No! Wait, who? Cuz we know some dumb bitches! Not me, of course!
This continued. My dad interjected. I noted that there is such a vast variety of bitches and announced that I would blog about it. Mom said she looked forward to it and here we are!
So back to bitches. As I stated there is a HUGE variety of bitches and subbitches. But I will go through just a handful. Now, if you're new to the blog, this sort of post happens every now and then...please feel free to check out the post about crazies and the post about stupidity found here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/04/levels-definitions-of-crazy-21st-cent.html
and here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/05/how-not-to-look-stupidfor-dummies.html
For the sake of time and keeping your eyes from burning out of your head (plus nap time, wont last forever) I will stick to my favorites of the bitches to talk about.
The Dumb Bitch
The Sneaky Bitch
The Mean Bitch
And my favorite, The Hardcore Bitch.
For starters you have to understand that bitch crossover, also known as bitch-fusion, occurs quite frequently. Take for example the Dumb Bitch. She is likely, to at times in her silly life, THINK that she is being a sneaky bitch when in reality she is just upping her ante on the dumb scale...and at times coming off as a Mean Bitch. So bare with me, understanding bitches can be...well, a real bitch.
The Dumb Bitch
The dumb bitch is the most annoying of the bitches. Also known as The Dizzy Bitch, she has her head so far up her ass she rarely knows which way she is pointing and sees the world through shit tinted goggles. Shit tinted goggles give one a skewed view on things, like what is going on around them and their importance in, uhm...well the entire universe. A Dumb Bitch usually has an over inflated ego, talks too loud, talks too much shit, and generally looks...you guessed it...dumb.
A Dumb Bitch will also misread a situation. Dumb Bitches frequently believe that they are wanted in places and situations where they are not. They tend to push their asses, be they boney or fat, into places where they do not fit and end up coming off in the most gagtastic way you could ever imagine. Think of a girl who's somewhat attractive...acting like a beast...yeah suddenly, she looks more like this to the people around her:
The Dumb Bitch acts like an idiot, thinks its cute, and simply does not see that there's nothing cute about being a dumb bitch. As for the internet...the dumb bitch is the girl who posts the pic of her kissing her middle finger sticking up. Klassy with a capital K. They're hopeless.
The Sneaky Bitch
The evilest of the bitches because she is a bitch simply for the purpose of doing bad things, The Sneaky Bitch is the one to stay away from. Sneaky bitches, are by definition, sneaky. Crazy like a fox, these broads have a way of using the power of the bitch to do things to and for people that always ends up as trouble for someone involved. Sneaky Bitches are best known for activities including but not limited to breaking laws, sleeping with married men, getting promotions at work that they don't deserve (at least not because of their "work performance", and under-handing their friends when it comes to anything that they want.
Sneaky Bitches have NO MORALS. None. I repeat...NONE. Watch your back, ass and other orifices around them! They will walk on your face and not even check to make sure their shoes aren't dirty or their heels aren't too sharp! The Sneaky Bitch downfall is that there is always another bitch out there sneakier than they are, and they LOVE one upping each other. Putting 2 of them in a room together is like watching Betta fish tear each other apart. Interesting from a biological standpoint but scary and definitely not something you want to be too close to or stare at for too long, kinda like the sun.
Sneaky Bitches often make mistakes that bring them down to the level of Dumb Bitch...so if you find yourself tangled in a web with one of them, just try to hold your ground and wait it out...enough rope, they always hang themselves.
The Mean Bitch
The Mean Bitch is exactly what she sounds like. She's mean. Why is she mean? Usually because she's miserable. Wait...what? But you said mean not miserable!! But the 2 go hand in hand. Think about the mean people you've known in your life...99% of the time, their life sucks. Cheerleaders are mean in high school to unpopular bland girls because they have a false sense of self esteem. Skinny girls are mean to fat girls because they fear that they might gain a pound or 2. Fat girls are mean to skinny girls because they're jealous. Most Mean Bitches are mean because of jealousy. If a Mean Bitch has a pseudo happy relationship built on tolerating each other...and along comes Romeo and Juliet in the middle of a hurricane they're struggling to ride out, the Mean Bitch will jump on that horse and ride it like she stole it.
Mean Bitches love to stir up drama and say and do things specifically to hurt others. Careful because Mean Bitches will lie just to cause pain to someone, but rarely do they think of the reprocussions of their lies. The simple fact is, Mean Bitches don't care what the reprocussions are. If they did, they wouldn't be mean! Leap first, then look, that's how they live. You can't let Mean Bitches get to you. Remember, jealousy has an ugly head and when it rears it...it can cause a shit storm but when the dust settles, they're simply not worth the time or trouble of giving them a second thought. In the end, the only friends Mean Bitches get to keep are those too weak to stand up to them and their mean ways, or those even more miserable than they are.
The Hardcore Bitch
She is the bitches bitch. The bitch that all other bitches want to be but secretly hate.
The Hardcore Bitch doesn't give a fuck about you, your sister, your mother or father, your dog, what color you shit this morning, or how much oxygen it takes for you to maintain your pathetic existence. The Hardcore Bitch has a very small core of people that she cares about. She will defend them to the death and tangling with her is a bad idea because she has the ability to be all the other bitches combined but is usually of a high enough IQ and great enough street smarts to outwit others without causing herself much flack.
The Hardcore Bitch says fuck, a lot. She flips people off. She will look someone in the eye and say, "I don't care", tell someone off that she doesn't know, and has likely been to jail more than once. The Hardcore Bitch is a rare breed of 'Don't give a fuck' mixed with 'Smarter than shit'. They kick ass and leave piles of dust in their wake...but never take names because the names aren't important. They burn bridges, don't give second chances, and never back down from a fight if they know they're right.
So next time you call someone a bitch, think about it. There are a lot of kinds of bitches they could be, and calling them one, just may or may not be an insult!
Bitches like me? Wait...what...? ;) Or bitches that just say "Wait...what?" waaaaaaaaaaaay too often...think of the Southpark episode where Cartman says "Hella" all the time...YUP! It's kinda like that.
I promised my mom a blog about bitches and the sizes, shapes, and types they come in. My mom? Why yes...my mom...THE bitch, the woman who raised me right and taught me everthing she knows about living up to the B word in all it's man controlling, woman crushing, god like power wielding glory. How, does one end up promising a blog about bitches to their mother, you ask? Well, it went something like this:
We (my parents, Moose, and myself) were at dinner the other night and what sounded like the word "bitch" came out of the mouth of my precious 16 month old. Yup. The kid says maybe 80 words and that's apparently one of them. The table fell silent for a brief second and then my father burst into hysterical laughter. At this point I realized that it was quite likely that Moose really HAD said that word. Awesome #1. This is not the 1st time I heard this word come from my sweet sweet baby boy's mouth. A few weeks back I dropped something and swore he said "bitch". I actually, without thinking that a 16 month old's comprehension and Q&A skills are not fully developed yet, asked him "did you just say bitch?"
He shook his head yes in huge up and down motions and said "yup" and walked away. I will never really know if he knew what we were talking about or not. I will always wonder!
So back to how this turned into a blog post. In a Gilmore Girls like exchange immediately following my father bursting into maniacal laughter, my mom and I bantered something like this:
Me: Bitch! What kinda bitch? Like Son of a bitch...because he totally is!
Her: Dumb bitch?
Me: No! Wait, who? Cuz we know some dumb bitches! Not me, of course!
This continued. My dad interjected. I noted that there is such a vast variety of bitches and announced that I would blog about it. Mom said she looked forward to it and here we are!
So back to bitches. As I stated there is a HUGE variety of bitches and subbitches. But I will go through just a handful. Now, if you're new to the blog, this sort of post happens every now and then...please feel free to check out the post about crazies and the post about stupidity found here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/04/levels-definitions-of-crazy-21st-cent.html
and here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/05/how-not-to-look-stupidfor-dummies.html
For the sake of time and keeping your eyes from burning out of your head (plus nap time, wont last forever) I will stick to my favorites of the bitches to talk about.
The Dumb Bitch
The Sneaky Bitch
The Mean Bitch
And my favorite, The Hardcore Bitch.
For starters you have to understand that bitch crossover, also known as bitch-fusion, occurs quite frequently. Take for example the Dumb Bitch. She is likely, to at times in her silly life, THINK that she is being a sneaky bitch when in reality she is just upping her ante on the dumb scale...and at times coming off as a Mean Bitch. So bare with me, understanding bitches can be...well, a real bitch.
The Dumb Bitch
The dumb bitch is the most annoying of the bitches. Also known as The Dizzy Bitch, she has her head so far up her ass she rarely knows which way she is pointing and sees the world through shit tinted goggles. Shit tinted goggles give one a skewed view on things, like what is going on around them and their importance in, uhm...well the entire universe. A Dumb Bitch usually has an over inflated ego, talks too loud, talks too much shit, and generally looks...you guessed it...dumb.
A Dumb Bitch will also misread a situation. Dumb Bitches frequently believe that they are wanted in places and situations where they are not. They tend to push their asses, be they boney or fat, into places where they do not fit and end up coming off in the most gagtastic way you could ever imagine. Think of a girl who's somewhat attractive...acting like a beast...yeah suddenly, she looks more like this to the people around her:
or better yet, like this:
The Sneaky Bitch
The evilest of the bitches because she is a bitch simply for the purpose of doing bad things, The Sneaky Bitch is the one to stay away from. Sneaky bitches, are by definition, sneaky. Crazy like a fox, these broads have a way of using the power of the bitch to do things to and for people that always ends up as trouble for someone involved. Sneaky Bitches are best known for activities including but not limited to breaking laws, sleeping with married men, getting promotions at work that they don't deserve (at least not because of their "work performance", and under-handing their friends when it comes to anything that they want.
Sneaky Bitches have NO MORALS. None. I repeat...NONE. Watch your back, ass and other orifices around them! They will walk on your face and not even check to make sure their shoes aren't dirty or their heels aren't too sharp! The Sneaky Bitch downfall is that there is always another bitch out there sneakier than they are, and they LOVE one upping each other. Putting 2 of them in a room together is like watching Betta fish tear each other apart. Interesting from a biological standpoint but scary and definitely not something you want to be too close to or stare at for too long, kinda like the sun.
Sneaky Bitches often make mistakes that bring them down to the level of Dumb Bitch...so if you find yourself tangled in a web with one of them, just try to hold your ground and wait it out...enough rope, they always hang themselves.
The Mean Bitch
The Mean Bitch is exactly what she sounds like. She's mean. Why is she mean? Usually because she's miserable. Wait...what? But you said mean not miserable!! But the 2 go hand in hand. Think about the mean people you've known in your life...99% of the time, their life sucks. Cheerleaders are mean in high school to unpopular bland girls because they have a false sense of self esteem. Skinny girls are mean to fat girls because they fear that they might gain a pound or 2. Fat girls are mean to skinny girls because they're jealous. Most Mean Bitches are mean because of jealousy. If a Mean Bitch has a pseudo happy relationship built on tolerating each other...and along comes Romeo and Juliet in the middle of a hurricane they're struggling to ride out, the Mean Bitch will jump on that horse and ride it like she stole it.
Mean Bitches love to stir up drama and say and do things specifically to hurt others. Careful because Mean Bitches will lie just to cause pain to someone, but rarely do they think of the reprocussions of their lies. The simple fact is, Mean Bitches don't care what the reprocussions are. If they did, they wouldn't be mean! Leap first, then look, that's how they live. You can't let Mean Bitches get to you. Remember, jealousy has an ugly head and when it rears it...it can cause a shit storm but when the dust settles, they're simply not worth the time or trouble of giving them a second thought. In the end, the only friends Mean Bitches get to keep are those too weak to stand up to them and their mean ways, or those even more miserable than they are.
The Hardcore Bitch
She is the bitches bitch. The bitch that all other bitches want to be but secretly hate.
The Hardcore Bitch doesn't give a fuck about you, your sister, your mother or father, your dog, what color you shit this morning, or how much oxygen it takes for you to maintain your pathetic existence. The Hardcore Bitch has a very small core of people that she cares about. She will defend them to the death and tangling with her is a bad idea because she has the ability to be all the other bitches combined but is usually of a high enough IQ and great enough street smarts to outwit others without causing herself much flack.
The Hardcore Bitch says fuck, a lot. She flips people off. She will look someone in the eye and say, "I don't care", tell someone off that she doesn't know, and has likely been to jail more than once. The Hardcore Bitch is a rare breed of 'Don't give a fuck' mixed with 'Smarter than shit'. They kick ass and leave piles of dust in their wake...but never take names because the names aren't important. They burn bridges, don't give second chances, and never back down from a fight if they know they're right.
So next time you call someone a bitch, think about it. There are a lot of kinds of bitches they could be, and calling them one, just may or may not be an insult!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Finished Product
So this is it, on my pasty white thigh. The final product of 17 years of emotions culminated into one piece of artwork that will walk with me through whatever my future holds.
It's gotten mixed reviews from those close to me. Some love it, one hates it but only because he misreads its meaning. I will always hold it close to my heart, as close as one's thigh can be to their heart, that is...
The detail work is amazing. It was finished for me by Spider of Spider Tattooz in Sycamore, IL. Check him out. He's a nice guy and a phenomenal artist :)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
A Real Man...
Lately I've watched 2 of the epic couples that I talk about every now and then, crumble to what resembles a bad soap opera or flash back to high school spats in the hallway between jaded lovers. My own marriage included. *GASP!* Yeah. Life is rough, blah blah blah, adapt and overcome. I'll leave it at that.
As I laid on the couch tonight with tears streaming down my face (yes, the giant mega-biatch does occasionally leak from the eye sockets) NOT for myself but for my son who's truly the one suffering in this current situation...I started thinking about what type of men I want in his life for him to look up to.
The men who have stepped up already, I have the utmost respect and admiration for. My father and my sister's friend have both been amazing influences on the Moose. My dad has spent more time with him in the last month than I can even begin to calculate and the relationship between them is amazing. My son actually chose to sit with my dad tonight at dinner, not me. Imagine my surprise! If you know us...then you know that's INSANE! The kid never leaves my side. We're connected at the hip. I would sooner lose my legs than be without him. The kindness and love shown to Moose by others has truly touched me. He is a very lucky boy in many respects.
Now for starters, this is not a slam against anyone. Clearly, I chose to breed; and I chose my mate.
But as life moves on, depending on what path it takes...which seems to change as often as the tides, I will presumably bring into the little Moose's life...men, on some level.
So I got thinking about what makes a man a man. On a level beyond that which shady silly immature broads measure a man...
A real man. This is what I came up with...so far. I'm sure there is a large list of criteria that no one will be able to meet...but this is a start.
A real man is not measured by the size of his penis. Partially because a real woman will 1 of 2; not judge him based solely on that and 2 of 2; can work with what she's given, within reason. A real man is not measured by the size of his heart but by how he uses it. You can have the biggest kindest heart in the world but if you open it to the wrong people and close off the right ones you are clearly not capable of embracing real love FULLY.
It's easy to look in the eyes and say "I love you so much!" but to make the actions to show it; well...that's not always easy. And a real man can, when the time really calls for it, swallow his pride and back up his words with actions to not only say to someone 'you are important to me' but also show them that they are.
A real man is not measured by the number of friends he has but by what type of friends he chooses and the loyalty of those friends. And loyalty is not earned or shown by instigating fights or stirring shit up; but by backing a friend up quietly and consistently despite the decisions they make. Loyalty is understanding that sometimes it's easy to say one thing to save face when in reality you're feeling differently; and a true friend can see that, and respects that. A real man demands respect from his friends, both for himself and on behalf of those he loves. And when he is not shown the respect that he deserves, he is not timid about lighting the bridge and watching it burn because an empty place to build a clean new bridge is a far safer way to get where you're going than a rickety old bridge rotten and full of holes.
A real man, while not being overly dramatic, is not afraid to show a little emotion now and then. Choke up. Let a tear go. The world won't end. This is one place I have quite a bit of respect for some men. And tear filled eyes at just the right time, can mean the world. And they did.
A real man isn't afraid to say "I need help". OH. MY. GOD. Did she just say that?!? Yes I fucking did. Man up a little. It's not going to make your dick shrink! Trust me. We ALL need help now and then, in one way or another. The difference between the strong and the weak is that the strong acknowledge that need and are STRONG enough to ask for it, get it, and better their lives. While the weak sit sinking ever deeper in their own problems until they feel like they've been under water for 30 years. Even then, when sitting upon the rocks far far at the bottom (yes that's my poetic way of saying at rock bottom...which isn't just a great bar in the Chicago burbs...) the strong will reach up and take the hand of those reaching out to help them...while the weak will sit, arms crossed and staring straight ahead as they drown. Sadly, often taken others down with them. It can be as simple as reading the instructions *gasp* or as complex as seeing a doctor about something you don't want to face...the simple truth is, we all have points...seconds even in our lives, where we get to decide if we will be strong or weak. Strong does not mean standing on your own when you're clearly standing in the deep end.
The list goes on and on, so much so that my head is spinning at the idea of having to find some sort of critiquing method for choosing who is involved in my son's life and to what extent. My taste in men, questionable. Perhaps the Moose would be better off raised solely by women.
Honestly, no one will ever be good enough in my eyes to be a role model for my little man.
Mother's Song
a Traditional Lullaby(read by Jennifer Garner)
My heart is like a fountain true
That flows and flows with love to you.
As chirps the lark unto the tree
...So chirps my pretty babe to me.
There's not a rose where'er I seek,
As comely as my baby's cheek.
There's not a comb of honey-bee,
So full of sweets as babe to me.
There's not a star that shines on high,
Is brighter than my baby's eye.
There's not a boat upon the sea,
Can dance as baby does to me.
No silk was ever spun so fine
As is the hair of baby mine.
My baby smells more sweet to me
Than smells in spring the elder tree.
A little fish swims in the well,
So in my heart does baby dwell.
A little flower blows on the tree,
My baby is the flower to me.
The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball,
You are my sceptre, crown and all.
For all her robes of royal silk,
More fair your skin, as white as milk.
Ten thousand parks where deer do run,
Ten thousand roses in the sun,
Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea,
My babe more precious is to me.
a Traditional Lullaby(read by Jennifer Garner)
My heart is like a fountain true
That flows and flows with love to you.
As chirps the lark unto the tree
...So chirps my pretty babe to me.
There's not a rose where'er I seek,
As comely as my baby's cheek.
There's not a comb of honey-bee,
So full of sweets as babe to me.
There's not a star that shines on high,
Is brighter than my baby's eye.
There's not a boat upon the sea,
Can dance as baby does to me.
No silk was ever spun so fine
As is the hair of baby mine.
My baby smells more sweet to me
Than smells in spring the elder tree.
A little fish swims in the well,
So in my heart does baby dwell.
A little flower blows on the tree,
My baby is the flower to me.
The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball,
You are my sceptre, crown and all.
For all her robes of royal silk,
More fair your skin, as white as milk.
Ten thousand parks where deer do run,
Ten thousand roses in the sun,
Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea,
My babe more precious is to me.
A real man feels those same emotions for his children. He holds them close and dear and treasures all the moments this short life has to offer him with them.
My son is one of the 2 men in my life who are my world. Living up to my expectations for role model for him...well, some of the greatest men I know have fallen short. It takes a real man to raise a real man. Or maybe a real woman to raise a real man, I have no doubt of my ability to raise a strong independent man of honor. 16 months old, he's already making me proud! He could probably teach most men, a thing or two...
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Sifting
I've spent the last few days sifting through old belongings. Storage is being consolidated from 15 areas to one area in the house and hell if it isn't a chore and a half.
I bust open one box today and it was a blast from the past! 1996!
The age of combat boots and baby doll dresses; Antonio Sabato Jr, and that hunky blonde guy from Dead at 21 who killed his career by appearing in Barbed Wire as the blind guy. Yup. Those days.
It got me thinking about how much some things change and how little others do.
Love changes. At least for most people. For me, it went through phases but I do have to admit that the last 5 years have been as wild a ride as the early days. That fire that burns when things are awesome and those insane gripping chest pains that riddle your entire being and paralyze you when things are bad...yeah. I've run through them all in recent years and even more so in recent months. As one person once said, sometimes things are "back of the hand to the forehead" dramatic at the time they occur but as your head clears and the dust settles you realize maybe things aren't as lost as they once seemed.
Friends change. Whether you've known them for ever or a short while...people seem less fake when their all hormones and hostility in the days of Junior year. We wear our hearts on our sleeves as teens and it's so easy to spot those with hidden agendas or the just flat out nasty human beings. As people get older they get better at masking who they really are, and some of us want to see the good in people...that rarely ends well.
Girls, as a general rule, do not change. Those who would walk through fire and fight the devil himself for the ones they love; still do. Those who refused to be walked on; never will be. Those who feed their ego by bashing down others, will continue to feed their bruised self esteem by trying to cause pain to those around them. Those who were known to cheat on their boyfriends, go after other girl's boyfriends, and generally act like trash; will likely continue to do so into what can only be called adulthood because of the number of their age. And those like me who are willing to fight their asses off for what is right...don't ever stop, don't ever back down, and don't ever give up.
Boys change very little.
Cars change. At least for those of us lucky enough to get out of our beat up Camaros (no matter how much we love them) and upgrade to something a little...more family and career friendly.
Change is good. But change is bad. I love to hate all the changes life throws at me but I wouldn't go back and redo most of them given the chance. They have all hand walked me to where I am now, which might not be exactly where I thought I would be...but it's a place to be proud of, even on its roughest days.
So I traded Antonio Sabato Jr in for Opie from SOA:
I bust open one box today and it was a blast from the past! 1996!
The age of combat boots and baby doll dresses; Antonio Sabato Jr, and that hunky blonde guy from Dead at 21 who killed his career by appearing in Barbed Wire as the blind guy. Yup. Those days.
It got me thinking about how much some things change and how little others do.
Love changes. At least for most people. For me, it went through phases but I do have to admit that the last 5 years have been as wild a ride as the early days. That fire that burns when things are awesome and those insane gripping chest pains that riddle your entire being and paralyze you when things are bad...yeah. I've run through them all in recent years and even more so in recent months. As one person once said, sometimes things are "back of the hand to the forehead" dramatic at the time they occur but as your head clears and the dust settles you realize maybe things aren't as lost as they once seemed.
Friends change. Whether you've known them for ever or a short while...people seem less fake when their all hormones and hostility in the days of Junior year. We wear our hearts on our sleeves as teens and it's so easy to spot those with hidden agendas or the just flat out nasty human beings. As people get older they get better at masking who they really are, and some of us want to see the good in people...that rarely ends well.
Girls, as a general rule, do not change. Those who would walk through fire and fight the devil himself for the ones they love; still do. Those who refused to be walked on; never will be. Those who feed their ego by bashing down others, will continue to feed their bruised self esteem by trying to cause pain to those around them. Those who were known to cheat on their boyfriends, go after other girl's boyfriends, and generally act like trash; will likely continue to do so into what can only be called adulthood because of the number of their age. And those like me who are willing to fight their asses off for what is right...don't ever stop, don't ever back down, and don't ever give up.
Boys change very little.
Cars change. At least for those of us lucky enough to get out of our beat up Camaros (no matter how much we love them) and upgrade to something a little...more family and career friendly.
Change is good. But change is bad. I love to hate all the changes life throws at me but I wouldn't go back and redo most of them given the chance. They have all hand walked me to where I am now, which might not be exactly where I thought I would be...but it's a place to be proud of, even on its roughest days.
So I traded Antonio Sabato Jr in for Opie from SOA:
I traded my Camaro for an SUV. But my combat boots have been spit shined and polished tonight while my baby boy sleeps quietly on the couch...and I have a cute new dress to go with them. Maybe my grunge days are over or maybe it's time to get back in touch 100% with that hard ass bitch I used to be. What will tomorrow bring? Can't say for sure; but like all other days, some will rise...and others will fall. I'm movin' up.
Monday, March 14, 2011
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):
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:
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.
Friday, March 11, 2011
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.
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.
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