Hey Woman,
So happy early birthday. I know I know we kind suck at remembering this day, but look at us now... a day early! Might still be a dollar short but t's all good sugah. We've seen some years pass haven't we? Mid forties. How the fuck we made it this far without greater head trauma, life certainly is full of mysteries! So 40-something tomorrow. I know you're right I still have to count it out to actually know our age. Still doesn't mean a damn thing to us. By all accounts, people consider you a fully grown, mature woman. HA! Morons, the lot of them. Or are they right? Have we actually hit full grown, mature woman state? I mean we're not really great with the sticking to an exercise routine, and eating by 'the pyramid'. I'm not sure where all that wine fits in on the pyramid.
Unlike mother we don't wash our sheets each Monday, but ehy; it's just us sleeping on them. We do refuse to stop renting as opposed to owning. As grown as we are I just can't see us buying a house. The stable relationships we have aren't of the romantic variety, but the're pretty damn fantastic nontheless. Yes, we still throw our clothes on the floor when tired, and whe we do wear makeup we rarely wash it off before going to bed. I know there always seems to be more month than money, but we've ome a few miles. A few very rocky and ruff terrain miles and we are still standing.
We have figured out that "she's not our compitition," and that's pretty empowering. No we still can't rock heels and the girl next door hair but we're doing okay. We work hard, laugh harder, and love fiercly. I think those should always be at the top of the plus coloum. We've helped more than hurt and I think in many ways we'll be leaving this little rock a little better off than when we first entered it. Plus look at the kids. They are fucking amazing!! Smart, funny, carring, compassionate, driven. They've maintained friendships and jobs with equal zest and accomplishment.
So yeah, welcome to 40-something. The view isn't really that bad is it? Tomorrow we'll be another year older, and no we're not where so many expected us to be at this time, but we're breathing on our own and have full access to our faculties. The possibilities really are endless. So tomorrow, when we want to roll our eyes at something daft we've done, stop. Just stop for a moment and smile. We've made it this far and we're still going strong. We've some rather unique qualities. Yes, they are a mixture of blessings and curses alike but they are ours. Keep doing you and remember to drink more water.
Shine on.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Friday, November 18, 2016
Panic Mode Enabled
Waking up after a couple hours sleep to think you've slept through and entire day and into the next. Of course this is followed by panic, rushing around and crying thinking I've not fed the dogs 2 meals and failed to run them. Tripping over the babygate, cat and two pair of shoes finally slowing my paniced progress while Mattea shakes her head laughing at me, and trying to reassure me that I've only had a two hour nap.
I might be overtired 😴
I might be overtired 😴
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
Do you?
“Do you fall in love often?"
Yes often. With a view, with a book, with a dog, a cat, with numbers, with friends, with complete strangers, with nothing at all.”
― Jeanette Winterson, Gut Symmetries
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Where the rivers meet the sea
Many moons ago, I lived in a remote town of Tejas. Old as the hills and dry as the desert sands. Lockhart, TX. A little “working town” outside of Austin, where men held doors and women knew what standing by their man, meant. We move a lot over the years, but this home became a pivot point in my life. When everything around me seemed to be in flux, and I felt at times to be in a free fall. The hub of a spinning wheel of thoughts and emotions as I made the transition from hopeful into realistic. It remains the most harrowing, and strangely romantic time of my life.
Walking out of work this morning amidst an early October chill, I smelled it again and my heart ached. That indescribable scent of the early morning dew beginning to seep into the earth beneath my feet as the sun fights it way through the clouds to greet us. It will always bring me back to The South. I long for the solitude and the pain of those days. Days when the whole world felt like an exposed nerve, so painful and so immediate that the future and the past became meaningless. The only thing that existed was the desolation of the moment. Clear skies tinged with oranges and reds, and the sounds of wind rustling the tall grass surroundingredients mesquite trees. The shadows dancing over ranch and surrounding outbuildings; the cattle at the edge of the field beckoning me to follow.
These days stumble on towards a future that I cannot see. Yet I know that somewhere at the end of these wanderings I will return. Return to a different time and place perhaps, but unmistakably to the South. Back to the silent musings of southern charm where I can breathe and watch the world change around me. The still point that stretches a moment into eternity and calls my name with a sweet longing and promise of more.
Walking out of work this morning amidst an early October chill, I smelled it again and my heart ached. That indescribable scent of the early morning dew beginning to seep into the earth beneath my feet as the sun fights it way through the clouds to greet us. It will always bring me back to The South. I long for the solitude and the pain of those days. Days when the whole world felt like an exposed nerve, so painful and so immediate that the future and the past became meaningless. The only thing that existed was the desolation of the moment. Clear skies tinged with oranges and reds, and the sounds of wind rustling the tall grass surroundingredients mesquite trees. The shadows dancing over ranch and surrounding outbuildings; the cattle at the edge of the field beckoning me to follow.
These days stumble on towards a future that I cannot see. Yet I know that somewhere at the end of these wanderings I will return. Return to a different time and place perhaps, but unmistakably to the South. Back to the silent musings of southern charm where I can breathe and watch the world change around me. The still point that stretches a moment into eternity and calls my name with a sweet longing and promise of more.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Rain Upon My Face
The thickened blanket of clouds send rain like unending tears. The drops land against my window, creating legs like wine on my glass. Gravity drawing the rivulets against their will relentlessly downward. Hypnotized by the patter, I hold my umbrella loosely, almost forgetting my stop. Puddling on the ground, the waters rise, and begin to flow taking my thoughts with them. Streams become creeks, creeks become rivers, rivers flowing onward to an invisible ocean of memory. In this dim half-light the line between wake and dreaming blurs. I long for a warm body to curl into. My thoughts trail off as the first splash from the skies land upon my face. Will it forever be this way? More importantly, does it even matter?
Monday, October 17, 2016
Pace yourself
I grew up in a home filled with constant commotion and noise. TV blaring. Music thrumming. People yelling. Dishes clanging. Wooden furniture squeaking.
I despised the noise. But when the yelling abruptly stopped, it meant that someone was about to get hit, so I hated the silence more. I associated silence with violence for a long time. I filled my space with noise and chaos and it felt good. Comfortable.
After moving out on my own, my home didn't have a TV, it merely contained a boom box (yes I am dating myself) alas my neighbours were old and liked peace. So to be a good neighbour the noise was minimal at best. (literal or figurative) Thus I would pace. I'd just walk around, back and forth running the floor plan like a caged wolf. After my first born arrived, I found that pacing wasnt the answer so we'd walk. I'd walk him for hours on end all throughout the city.
As time moved on as it alwas does, I noticed that I paced less. I'd embraced walking out among the world and it's inhabitants. Enjoying all that they and nature had to offer. I'd distanced myself from those that I'd once called family. Limiting our contact and time together. For many years I maintained absolutely no contact with my birth family, and I actually began to find a sense of peace. I still adore the outdoors and walking / hiking for hours on end; however error there is no pacing.
Happily, I have discovered that I am exceptional at sitting quietly. Peacefully. I from time to time have exploited the shit out of that skill. Here's to all of us finding our inner peace. It truly is a gift that keeps on giving.
I despised the noise. But when the yelling abruptly stopped, it meant that someone was about to get hit, so I hated the silence more. I associated silence with violence for a long time. I filled my space with noise and chaos and it felt good. Comfortable.
After moving out on my own, my home didn't have a TV, it merely contained a boom box (yes I am dating myself) alas my neighbours were old and liked peace. So to be a good neighbour the noise was minimal at best. (literal or figurative) Thus I would pace. I'd just walk around, back and forth running the floor plan like a caged wolf. After my first born arrived, I found that pacing wasnt the answer so we'd walk. I'd walk him for hours on end all throughout the city.
As time moved on as it alwas does, I noticed that I paced less. I'd embraced walking out among the world and it's inhabitants. Enjoying all that they and nature had to offer. I'd distanced myself from those that I'd once called family. Limiting our contact and time together. For many years I maintained absolutely no contact with my birth family, and I actually began to find a sense of peace. I still adore the outdoors and walking / hiking for hours on end; however error there is no pacing.
Happily, I have discovered that I am exceptional at sitting quietly. Peacefully. I from time to time have exploited the shit out of that skill. Here's to all of us finding our inner peace. It truly is a gift that keeps on giving.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
I laugh, you laugh, then I shake my head and walk away
That title pretty much sums up my interactions so with a great many people. I'm well beyond wasting what precious time I have on fruitless relationships, or weird men whom somehow think that a compliment is a contract. Don't get me wrong a compliment is a lovely thing indeed. Be it in person or via social media. However complimenting me on my looks, well that will get you a polite thank you. Bring your A game and engage me in actual conversation that doesn't involve you gushing over how pretty I am and you're golden.
The fact is, I hold little to no value on looks. Mine or yours. Yes, we all have something about a person that we will find attreactive but that's just the eye opener to taking a chance on finding out more. I have in recent months recieved countless messages ranging from, "you are a goddess, how I could worship you for hours" to the "hi, I find you really hot care to snapchat or email?" Of course there's the ever charming, "wow you're cute! Have any more pictures?" Each of these messages causes one or two of the same reactions. 1: I roll my eyes and vomit in my mouth a little or 2: I laugh at the absurdity of it all and promise to remain single forever.
As has been noted many times, I do enjoy my own company. I feel no need to surround myself by those with superficial or stunted social skills. Engage my brain, be compassionate, love animals, be an advocate, have tattoos, have a well functioning brain, be circumsized, respect our service men and women. Don't be a simpering little duche bag. (Ie: grown men don't fucking whine.) I'm a simple gal really. The later is as big a turn off as the recent comments of, "omg I just can't look away..." repeated ad nauseum in 15 messages sent daily by someone I've never held an actual conversation with over one of my pictures.
One of the other questions that makes me shake my head is, "do you like big dicks?" And of course all of the other variations of that question. I tend to respond do with a snazzy comment like, "not if their attached to even bigger assholes." Both penises and vaginas are fabulous things, but if that's all you have to offer someone; well that's pretty sad. Seriously if the guy or girl you're dating opens with a greeting of "did you miss my _____" it's time to find a new partner. I don't think, no I know I wouldn't be able to hold my laughter in at the absurdity of such a question from someone whose supposed to value me as a partner.
The fact is, I hold little to no value on looks. Mine or yours. Yes, we all have something about a person that we will find attreactive but that's just the eye opener to taking a chance on finding out more. I have in recent months recieved countless messages ranging from, "you are a goddess, how I could worship you for hours" to the "hi, I find you really hot care to snapchat or email?" Of course there's the ever charming, "wow you're cute! Have any more pictures?" Each of these messages causes one or two of the same reactions. 1: I roll my eyes and vomit in my mouth a little or 2: I laugh at the absurdity of it all and promise to remain single forever.
As has been noted many times, I do enjoy my own company. I feel no need to surround myself by those with superficial or stunted social skills. Engage my brain, be compassionate, love animals, be an advocate, have tattoos, have a well functioning brain, be circumsized, respect our service men and women. Don't be a simpering little duche bag. (Ie: grown men don't fucking whine.) I'm a simple gal really. The later is as big a turn off as the recent comments of, "omg I just can't look away..." repeated ad nauseum in 15 messages sent daily by someone I've never held an actual conversation with over one of my pictures.
One of the other questions that makes me shake my head is, "do you like big dicks?" And of course all of the other variations of that question. I tend to respond do with a snazzy comment like, "not if their attached to even bigger assholes." Both penises and vaginas are fabulous things, but if that's all you have to offer someone; well that's pretty sad. Seriously if the guy or girl you're dating opens with a greeting of "did you miss my _____" it's time to find a new partner. I don't think, no I know I wouldn't be able to hold my laughter in at the absurdity of such a question from someone whose supposed to value me as a partner.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
The Traveler
The Traveler stopped by for the night. He needed a couch to surf and a free washing machine for his scant belongings before heading back out into the world of weary nomadic yetties. It's been 9 1/2 months since we last spoke. 9 and a 1/2 months since I last did his laundry and sent him off to parts unknown all freshly fluffed and folded. We laughed at that quite heartily over a steaming mug of homemade Chai with milk and honey. To think I used to be the nomadic one and now here I am, almost 2 years in the same place. It makes me smile and my skin itch all at once.
I cut his hair and gave him a much needed shave. All the while listening to his tales of abroad. The waves he surfed, the shanty he slept in during a storm, the old man he befriended, and the top less woman he swore reminded him of me. I love listening to his traveling tales. He can be so descriptive that it has me right there in the moment with him, feeling the sun on my upturned face, and the spray of ocean water on my skin. The Travelers stories help to ebb my wanderlust. Well that and I do adore a person who can truly appreciate a good cuppa Chai with me.
Finally we settled down and watched the sci-fi channel for a bit while giggling over the fact that the only place The Traveler hasn't been to is the moon. We finally dozed off, or at least I did curled up against Traveler since he'd been playing with my hair. What can I say it's a weakness that completely relaxes me. I'll take the closeness and pampering while it's readily available before it's just dog slobber and bed head for days on end. I was just embracing my dream world of being ensconced in the biggest most comfy blanket when a deep very masculine voice brought me out of my happy place.
"Sex in zero gravity would be difficult as hell. I'm not even sure it's possible, do you think it is?," his baritone voice making his chest rumble against the side of my face. This serious inquiry at 3 a.m. reminding me why I never got much sleep when Traveler came around. We never fail to get into odd discussions in the wee hours of the morning. These are the issues that keep my Traveler - and thus, myself - up at odd hours. Yes, I've been accused of keeping others awake with silly talk. Unable to sleep many nights, leaving my mind to wander over such inane questions as "I wonder if Diesel would be any good in bed?" Or "Would Angelina Jolie and I make a good couple?" I however tend not to blurt them out when my sleep over partner is in some deep slumber.
Now, rather than actually enjoying gravity-assisted sex (as for now, I was wide awake. Wide awake with my face nestled into this firm very masculine chest and that chest should have at the very least be pinning me down with fewer hypothetical questions, and way more moaning athe this hour), he continued talking and now stroking my hair again. "I think it would probably be difficult. Obviously obtaining any traction would be problematic at best." Obviously, I sighed in a mixture of hair stroking pleasure and sleep deprived an annoyance. The chuckle he let out shook his chest and made me want to yank his beard like a 14 year old. "It's not just about the grip princess," he continued to chuckle while tightening his grip in my hair. "Traction is important. you know that, right?" he continued, posing a question (unlike my Diesel query) that could actually be answered.
"Yes as I recall, traction does have it's merits," was my muffled response. "And if you promise not to laugh so hard at me again the next time I dare to be so risque as to wear a silk night gown on satin sheets, I promise to warn you before trying that move again so I don't fall ass first off the side of the bed...again. now...may I please go back into the bliss of dreamland?" "Oh it's possible I suppose, what were you dreaming about? I guess I would have to strap you down." My eyes widdened to the size of dinner plates before I screwed them shut trying to follow along with this broken portion of our conversation. "Maybe tie ourselves together, it's not like I haven't been handcuffed to you before," he continued with a grin as he spoke. It was one of those grins you could hear in his tone.
For a minute - maybe five - I was unable to answer, lost in a memory. As I tried to raise my head, those lumberjack arms tightened back around me. "Go to sleep princess," he murmured breaking me out of my moment. "You're gonna need it, tomorrow we can test out that silk and satin combo again. Although this time you won't need to worry about sliding anywhere." He'll be gone in another few days, until then I'm just going to say, "sweet dreams and yes Sir."
I cut his hair and gave him a much needed shave. All the while listening to his tales of abroad. The waves he surfed, the shanty he slept in during a storm, the old man he befriended, and the top less woman he swore reminded him of me. I love listening to his traveling tales. He can be so descriptive that it has me right there in the moment with him, feeling the sun on my upturned face, and the spray of ocean water on my skin. The Travelers stories help to ebb my wanderlust. Well that and I do adore a person who can truly appreciate a good cuppa Chai with me.
Finally we settled down and watched the sci-fi channel for a bit while giggling over the fact that the only place The Traveler hasn't been to is the moon. We finally dozed off, or at least I did curled up against Traveler since he'd been playing with my hair. What can I say it's a weakness that completely relaxes me. I'll take the closeness and pampering while it's readily available before it's just dog slobber and bed head for days on end. I was just embracing my dream world of being ensconced in the biggest most comfy blanket when a deep very masculine voice brought me out of my happy place.
"Sex in zero gravity would be difficult as hell. I'm not even sure it's possible, do you think it is?," his baritone voice making his chest rumble against the side of my face. This serious inquiry at 3 a.m. reminding me why I never got much sleep when Traveler came around. We never fail to get into odd discussions in the wee hours of the morning. These are the issues that keep my Traveler - and thus, myself - up at odd hours. Yes, I've been accused of keeping others awake with silly talk. Unable to sleep many nights, leaving my mind to wander over such inane questions as "I wonder if Diesel would be any good in bed?" Or "Would Angelina Jolie and I make a good couple?" I however tend not to blurt them out when my sleep over partner is in some deep slumber.
Now, rather than actually enjoying gravity-assisted sex (as for now, I was wide awake. Wide awake with my face nestled into this firm very masculine chest and that chest should have at the very least be pinning me down with fewer hypothetical questions, and way more moaning athe this hour), he continued talking and now stroking my hair again. "I think it would probably be difficult. Obviously obtaining any traction would be problematic at best." Obviously, I sighed in a mixture of hair stroking pleasure and sleep deprived an annoyance. The chuckle he let out shook his chest and made me want to yank his beard like a 14 year old. "It's not just about the grip princess," he continued to chuckle while tightening his grip in my hair. "Traction is important. you know that, right?" he continued, posing a question (unlike my Diesel query) that could actually be answered.
"Yes as I recall, traction does have it's merits," was my muffled response. "And if you promise not to laugh so hard at me again the next time I dare to be so risque as to wear a silk night gown on satin sheets, I promise to warn you before trying that move again so I don't fall ass first off the side of the bed...again. now...may I please go back into the bliss of dreamland?" "Oh it's possible I suppose, what were you dreaming about? I guess I would have to strap you down." My eyes widdened to the size of dinner plates before I screwed them shut trying to follow along with this broken portion of our conversation. "Maybe tie ourselves together, it's not like I haven't been handcuffed to you before," he continued with a grin as he spoke. It was one of those grins you could hear in his tone.
For a minute - maybe five - I was unable to answer, lost in a memory. As I tried to raise my head, those lumberjack arms tightened back around me. "Go to sleep princess," he murmured breaking me out of my moment. "You're gonna need it, tomorrow we can test out that silk and satin combo again. Although this time you won't need to worry about sliding anywhere." He'll be gone in another few days, until then I'm just going to say, "sweet dreams and yes Sir."
Friday, October 14, 2016
Jesus isn't my homeboy
He ain't even invited to the party. Nothing annoys me more than anyone trying to force their religious beliefs upon me. Don't rape my mind or soul, thank you very much. I find all religions quite interesting. From their dogmatic followers to their lost in translation hard lines, and enforced rules. How this sect abhors halloween, to how this other sect believes rats are the embodiment of their reincarnated ancestors.
This past week one of my coworkers was comisserating on how she didn't get to go to church and talk to jesus. I smiled and said, " you don't have to be in a church to have him with you. If you believe, he's always with you." Apparently I didn't understand that she needs the building and the other believers to feel the joy of being surrounded by other believers. My lack luster "ahhh" had her asking what church I went to. I responded how I did not need to attend a church to have faith in my beliefs, but that while born and raised Roman catholic but also embraced and was taught a more earth based faith by another family member; that I no longer attend church. I didn't believe in her God or jesus.
I should have just remained silent.
"But if you don't believe in God how can you keep the devil away?" Came the astounded question. For the third or maybe fourth time in my life I remained unengaged, unfaultering and neutral in my emotions as I replied. "The devil is a Christian ideology. Thus I don't believe in it either." Apparently they disagreed as they said you don't have to believe in one to believe in the other. I remained quiet but still disagree.
Evil. Yes their is evil in the world. A great deal of it in fact. It lies in the hearts and minds of men, women, and yes even children. I need not believe in the devil or his ghostly counterpart to believe that.
This past week one of my coworkers was comisserating on how she didn't get to go to church and talk to jesus. I smiled and said, " you don't have to be in a church to have him with you. If you believe, he's always with you." Apparently I didn't understand that she needs the building and the other believers to feel the joy of being surrounded by other believers. My lack luster "ahhh" had her asking what church I went to. I responded how I did not need to attend a church to have faith in my beliefs, but that while born and raised Roman catholic but also embraced and was taught a more earth based faith by another family member; that I no longer attend church. I didn't believe in her God or jesus.
I should have just remained silent.
"But if you don't believe in God how can you keep the devil away?" Came the astounded question. For the third or maybe fourth time in my life I remained unengaged, unfaultering and neutral in my emotions as I replied. "The devil is a Christian ideology. Thus I don't believe in it either." Apparently they disagreed as they said you don't have to believe in one to believe in the other. I remained quiet but still disagree.
Evil. Yes their is evil in the world. A great deal of it in fact. It lies in the hearts and minds of men, women, and yes even children. I need not believe in the devil or his ghostly counterpart to believe that.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Stories from a stranger
On of my relatives, kind of distant reached out to me. It was weird, mostly because she's older than me and I do not remember her at all. I scoured the old entries, and nothing. I've got nothing I tell ya. I researched by given name, possible nick names, initials. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Bupkis.
She seems nice. She told me stories about me as a kid that I was able to verify in my older entries that no one has seen. Cool. Shes super-d-duper direct. I like that. It's uncomfortable and funny as fuck. She made a comment about p0rn, I sat stunned for a second then laughed until I cried. It was so brutally honest it was refreshing.
I'm not so sure if she'll stick around or slip away like all of the others I pay only a passing interest in. For the moment however it's nice. She knows that too. Understands it even. Didn't state if she approved or disapproved but said she understood. Once again, refreshing. I was once the friend that was the glue for everyone and everything. It was time consuming and a thankless job.
It's a well documented fact that I suck to have as a friend. Well that's how I see it anyways. I don't put in any effort if the other person doesn't. Not a lick. I've never had an issue walking away, alone. I like my own company. I miss having that one close friend that I can touch base with everyday. Someone to laugh at the days bullshit with, but over the last 15 years I've gotten used to keeping my own counsel. There's less bodycount take that way.
She seems nice. She told me stories about me as a kid that I was able to verify in my older entries that no one has seen. Cool. Shes super-d-duper direct. I like that. It's uncomfortable and funny as fuck. She made a comment about p0rn, I sat stunned for a second then laughed until I cried. It was so brutally honest it was refreshing.
I'm not so sure if she'll stick around or slip away like all of the others I pay only a passing interest in. For the moment however it's nice. She knows that too. Understands it even. Didn't state if she approved or disapproved but said she understood. Once again, refreshing. I was once the friend that was the glue for everyone and everything. It was time consuming and a thankless job.
It's a well documented fact that I suck to have as a friend. Well that's how I see it anyways. I don't put in any effort if the other person doesn't. Not a lick. I've never had an issue walking away, alone. I like my own company. I miss having that one close friend that I can touch base with everyday. Someone to laugh at the days bullshit with, but over the last 15 years I've gotten used to keeping my own counsel. There's less bodycount take that way.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Aging with flare
1. I've noticed a lot more facial hair lately. It'should black and coarse and yes I understand it is all a part of aging. Well either that or I have spent so much time in the company of wolves that I am turning into one. I believe I may be failing at growing old gracefully.
2. I have embraced massages. This is a splurge that I am willing to budget heavily for if necessary. Although when I loose toral feeling in my hands and arms, or the numbness in my thumbs fades to sheer pain; it's less indulgence and more therapy so I can continue to unzip my own pants.
3. Today I looked into the mirror and actually studied my face. It's not sone thing I typically do. I don't fuss over lines, wrinkles, age spots. I'm getting old and that's ok. Today though, I noticed a new line next to the corner of my mouth. For a split second one that sarcastic bitch in my shouted out, "fucking great, now we've got old hooked mouth." It wasn't my best self assured moment. I should probably just get laid.
4. I had a 10 extra minutes in the shower to scrub away the grease build up from work. Did you have any idea that shit soaks into your pores and even when you're clean it's there waiting below the surface to ooze out like a bad ex? I didn't. So I scrubbed and scraped thone first 2 layers of flesh right off. I can't believe people pay for that. Ps: my skin hurts.
5. I had wine, while overly tired and dyeing my eyelashes. What could go wrong there?
6. I have full vision again, encased by gorgeous lashes. So Im chaulking it all up as a win. Im like a beauty doctor, or an eye surgeon.
7. I had a coffee date, cause good, bad, or indifferent; coffee! So yay! He had a slightly larger head ontop of a regular sized body. No biggie. But he had time you hands.... fuck that shit I was so outta there.
8. Yes I am fully aware of my front row seat status in hell. With age comes wisdom.
2. I have embraced massages. This is a splurge that I am willing to budget heavily for if necessary. Although when I loose toral feeling in my hands and arms, or the numbness in my thumbs fades to sheer pain; it's less indulgence and more therapy so I can continue to unzip my own pants.
3. Today I looked into the mirror and actually studied my face. It's not sone thing I typically do. I don't fuss over lines, wrinkles, age spots. I'm getting old and that's ok. Today though, I noticed a new line next to the corner of my mouth. For a split second one that sarcastic bitch in my shouted out, "fucking great, now we've got old hooked mouth." It wasn't my best self assured moment. I should probably just get laid.
4. I had a 10 extra minutes in the shower to scrub away the grease build up from work. Did you have any idea that shit soaks into your pores and even when you're clean it's there waiting below the surface to ooze out like a bad ex? I didn't. So I scrubbed and scraped thone first 2 layers of flesh right off. I can't believe people pay for that. Ps: my skin hurts.
5. I had wine, while overly tired and dyeing my eyelashes. What could go wrong there?
6. I have full vision again, encased by gorgeous lashes. So Im chaulking it all up as a win. Im like a beauty doctor, or an eye surgeon.
7. I had a coffee date, cause good, bad, or indifferent; coffee! So yay! He had a slightly larger head ontop of a regular sized body. No biggie. But he had time you hands.... fuck that shit I was so outta there.
8. Yes I am fully aware of my front row seat status in hell. With age comes wisdom.
Saturday, October 8, 2016
Smelling Salts and Cider
Touching base with LoneRider was good. He's back doing what he loves and throwing himself into it with a renewed zest. There's always an ease when we talk, which I adore. Some friendships are meant to last. I'm glad he's in my corner and vice versa. He'll make it home for Thanksgiving I time to hold his niece and eat pie, while this year I delve into another 12 hour shift surrounded by strangers. Strangers whom are slowly becoming friends.
On my next day off I'll make Esme and I am dinner with all the trimmings. This year... well this year I want to bank as much as possible and try like hell to get a little bit ahead in the game of life. I'd very much enjoy having more money than month for a change. A girl can dream can't she? For now my love and hope that you all and my stoney-faced accomplice LoneRider are surrounded by those you love and who love you in return.
And on the first night we met you said "Well darling, let's make a deal. If anybody ever asks us, let's just tell them that we met in jail." And that's the story that I'm sticking to like a stony-faced accomplice But tonight I need to hear some truth if I'm ever getting through this. Yeah you once sent me a letter that said "If you're lost at sea, Close your eyes and catch the tide my dear and only think of me." Well darling now I'm sinking and I'm as lost as lost can be And I was hoping you could drag me up from down here towards my recovery.
-Frank Turner
On my next day off I'll make Esme and I am dinner with all the trimmings. This year... well this year I want to bank as much as possible and try like hell to get a little bit ahead in the game of life. I'd very much enjoy having more money than month for a change. A girl can dream can't she? For now my love and hope that you all and my stoney-faced accomplice LoneRider are surrounded by those you love and who love you in return.
And on the first night we met you said "Well darling, let's make a deal. If anybody ever asks us, let's just tell them that we met in jail." And that's the story that I'm sticking to like a stony-faced accomplice But tonight I need to hear some truth if I'm ever getting through this. Yeah you once sent me a letter that said "If you're lost at sea, Close your eyes and catch the tide my dear and only think of me." Well darling now I'm sinking and I'm as lost as lost can be And I was hoping you could drag me up from down here towards my recovery.
-Frank Turner
Monday, October 3, 2016
Part hood, part good.
Radical honesty is a full-time job. This truth goes directly against almost everyone's work ethic. Be it retail, office work, customer service or hell even a job interview; lying is key. Some would call it "shades of the truth" but let's cut the bullshit, it's lying. I had a district manager who demanded the truth was always in high priority! She claimed to value it above all else.
She was a liar. She was also terrible at hiring people. 8 out of the 10 people she hired were such bad candidates that it would have been laughable if it weren't horrifically sad. I had stold by and watched these events unfolding time and time again. I finally couldn't take the foolishness anymore and told her the truth. A simple statment of facts with their corresponding outcomes. It went over like a lead balloon.
I’m passionate about quite a few things in this world, of course those things tend not to be as popular with the general person. I live my life in relative comfort. I toil daily to make ends meet, through all of the time-consuming, laborious tasks that usually entitle people to that kind of comfort. I do find many of not most people, want to live like a rappers without being a rappers. If you happen to meet anyone who’s never laid down a single track or been taken into custody for disorderly conduct and unlawful possession of a firearm but still lives like Rick Ross, then you may have a better understanding. I’m actually a fan of hard work, but very occasionally, I dream of a job that allows me to just sit pretty while amassing vaults of cash.
So at the beginning of October, when I made the commitment to get real and work in a far more honest enviroment, I thought that a monthlong break would be enough time to address my demons, and I would come back, envigrated and ready to hit the workforce ground running. That lasted all of 3 days. After a small amount of paaperwork and an hour long interview, I was once again gainfully employed. My allotting 30 days to clear away debris like dust in the wind seemed pretty generous, and I actually made a list of things I might try in case I finished a few days early. I watched a tutorial on how to create the perfect winged eyeliner with a smokey eye and that bitch was #1 on my list.
I know the facts but I'm still not sure how 30 days turned into just 3. So I'd just like to mention the if any of the coping mechanisms you use to stay functional involve pushing down grief and pain and rage about your past or your present, and you unlatch the gate that’s been corralling those feelings and they all escape in a mad rush and you have to chase each one down to see if it really belongs to you or it can be returned to the wild, um, you’re not going to have time to work on the perfect winged eyeliner. Not in three days. Yeah, I know, it was a surprise to me too.
She was a liar. She was also terrible at hiring people. 8 out of the 10 people she hired were such bad candidates that it would have been laughable if it weren't horrifically sad. I had stold by and watched these events unfolding time and time again. I finally couldn't take the foolishness anymore and told her the truth. A simple statment of facts with their corresponding outcomes. It went over like a lead balloon.
I’m passionate about quite a few things in this world, of course those things tend not to be as popular with the general person. I live my life in relative comfort. I toil daily to make ends meet, through all of the time-consuming, laborious tasks that usually entitle people to that kind of comfort. I do find many of not most people, want to live like a rappers without being a rappers. If you happen to meet anyone who’s never laid down a single track or been taken into custody for disorderly conduct and unlawful possession of a firearm but still lives like Rick Ross, then you may have a better understanding. I’m actually a fan of hard work, but very occasionally, I dream of a job that allows me to just sit pretty while amassing vaults of cash.
So at the beginning of October, when I made the commitment to get real and work in a far more honest enviroment, I thought that a monthlong break would be enough time to address my demons, and I would come back, envigrated and ready to hit the workforce ground running. That lasted all of 3 days. After a small amount of paaperwork and an hour long interview, I was once again gainfully employed. My allotting 30 days to clear away debris like dust in the wind seemed pretty generous, and I actually made a list of things I might try in case I finished a few days early. I watched a tutorial on how to create the perfect winged eyeliner with a smokey eye and that bitch was #1 on my list.
I know the facts but I'm still not sure how 30 days turned into just 3. So I'd just like to mention the if any of the coping mechanisms you use to stay functional involve pushing down grief and pain and rage about your past or your present, and you unlatch the gate that’s been corralling those feelings and they all escape in a mad rush and you have to chase each one down to see if it really belongs to you or it can be returned to the wild, um, you’re not going to have time to work on the perfect winged eyeliner. Not in three days. Yeah, I know, it was a surprise to me too.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Looking back to move forward.
Why are you still looking back, you're not goingoing in that direction? It's still a statment the that I whole heartedly believe in. Wallowing in the past is often detrimental to ones personal growth. Still there are times when you must examine email the past if you are to deal with it and then move forward. It's rule number 45: clean up your own mess.
When your mind is ready to deal with the hard shit, the hard shit has a bad way of smacking you in the face. It's the mind's way of saying, "I know you can handle this now, so we're gonna pull it all out and look at it. You are going to feel like that little kid back when it all started. Yet grabbing that little kid by the hand, and saying "we got you!" It's the beginning of pulling that often confused and scared kid out of the past and bring her into the present with you. Whoever was supposed to help you throught it when it occured might have failed at their job, you however will not. In cleaning up your own mess, you've the opportunity to save yourself.
Friends and yes even families are not always what we want them to be. Some people just can't deal with the hard shit, so they take the easy way out. Sometimes their judgement is more about them and how they handled the situation than it is about you. It usually means they aren't in a place where they can deal with. Maybe they never will be, but that is theirs to deal with. Focus on that little kid. Remind him or her that the past is just that, it can hurt but only if you allow it to. You have the power to pull out those memories and emotions and review them like pictures of the past. Examine them, poke them, but also realize that you can learn a great deal from this self explanatory experience! You are worth the effort, time, and growth development. I'm sure you will do just fine by that once lost kid.
When your mind is ready to deal with the hard shit, the hard shit has a bad way of smacking you in the face. It's the mind's way of saying, "I know you can handle this now, so we're gonna pull it all out and look at it. You are going to feel like that little kid back when it all started. Yet grabbing that little kid by the hand, and saying "we got you!" It's the beginning of pulling that often confused and scared kid out of the past and bring her into the present with you. Whoever was supposed to help you throught it when it occured might have failed at their job, you however will not. In cleaning up your own mess, you've the opportunity to save yourself.
Friends and yes even families are not always what we want them to be. Some people just can't deal with the hard shit, so they take the easy way out. Sometimes their judgement is more about them and how they handled the situation than it is about you. It usually means they aren't in a place where they can deal with. Maybe they never will be, but that is theirs to deal with. Focus on that little kid. Remind him or her that the past is just that, it can hurt but only if you allow it to. You have the power to pull out those memories and emotions and review them like pictures of the past. Examine them, poke them, but also realize that you can learn a great deal from this self explanatory experience! You are worth the effort, time, and growth development. I'm sure you will do just fine by that once lost kid.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Clutter bad, fire awesome
Set it all on fire and begin again. My personal views and methods on how to life a carefree happy life.
It should be noted that by “methods” I mean “shit I've done with relative success,” and by “success” I mean “without loss of life.” Mine or anyone elses. For those of you clinging to the notion, that none of this is particularly fascinating or even remotely noteworthy. A: You're still reading! B: I also run with scissors so anything can happen. And C: Since when is not dying even one time in my entire life not a big deal?
Every year, on my birthday I reevaluate my life's path. I look at all that I've done, all that I've seen, and all that I've yet to do. I remind myself that being nicer to others is a good start, thus I vow not to punch the stupid people. I'm proud of myself for something like a week, and every year, without fail, I regret ever having thought it. It’s a stretch goal, but I aim for difficult targets because I’m brave. I also enjoy a challange.
Growing up without stability in my childhood home, possibly has something to do with my dislike of bullshit. Stability in many forms has always eluded me. It eluded me still after becoming a mother, but in this life I now share with my daughter and my pack, the organized chaos has become a familiar and welcome presence. When I was far younger stability was only seen as being financially set with a husband who'd adore me. It was a concept my mother had deemed most important to ones social status.
And as mother has always taught us, social status was key. After that it was being thin, beautiful, well dressed, and with money in the bank. Affluent would be a status she'd be proud of. Well that and being thin. She hated my being fat. It absolutely appalled her when I gained weight. Thus we went on our first diet together when I was 7. 800 calories a day and not a calorie more! As you can imagine before I truly hit puberty my metabolism was fucked. I've reread all my old journals from back then shaking my head and laughing equally at my 7 year old selfs ability to write out my caloric intake and drawing pictures of the foods I could eat.
Being firmly rooted both physically and mentally was also something we were taught. It was never something I wanted though. Not like so many others did. I’ve always believed that home is where your heart is. And that stability isn’t about remaining unchanged. It’s more about not allowing temporary but intense emotions and thoughts to dictate your actions or views. It is also about staying true to yourself and not falling prey to self destructive behaviours. Learning to carry the often overwhelming burden of grief, sadness, and disappointment without letting it define you came as second nature.
Its a trait that has served me well. So thanks crazy childhood for that little gem. Mental stability is all about not losing your motherfucking shit when life throws you a curve ball. It's an important trait to have when dealing with the public at large or an asshole DM who thinks she's a god. Since running away at an early age and being my own parent, I’ve had kids, moved to a new country, buried all my grandparent's, gotten married, buried a mother in law, travelled all over the globe, moved more times than not, and left it all behind without ever looking back.
Not a fucking regret to be had.
Although I have not been rooted in one place physically, I am always at home because of Esme, GQ, and my pack. I am with my chosen family. My belief then and now when it all becomes too overwhelming remains: Tree bad, fire pretty! In other words, "If you’re lost in the woods, burn it all down." It might not be easy, but it is damn effective. Well thathat and laugh at everything; including yourself! Laugh at the good times, the bad times, the fun times, the hard times, the glad times and the sad times alike. That's right, yes there are times to be serious but not all the fucking time.
Landing on my feet is one of my main skills. I know that even when landing knee deep in the muck and mire, I'm still standing. It's one of my about eight or nine major skills. Humility aside, eight and nine might be high numbers so, yes, I’m a person of many talents, but I still like to be low key about it. Humor is my candy of choice. Laughter and hugs cure more than penicillin or hospitals. Seeing the good in everything, even if not in everyone; is also pretty damn valuable.
Know or finding your passion, is a sheer thing of beauty. Be passionate about what you do. From great to small, add your own flare to it and embrace the little lessons that pop up along the way. Find and stay truly loyal to at least one friend who makes no qualms about cheering you on and just as importantly calls you out on your bullshit. That one friend who won't say, “Yes, yes, you’re right. Of course you should do it all.” But will instead, give you a lot of hard stares and say something about how on a previous ocassion or two you ended up on the floor praying to Oden to please take you to Valhalla because you're so fucking done with this fucking shit.
Don't bother gloating or assuring yourself that this time, things will be different, or that you've got it all figured out. That kind of pride will get in your way. Failures are just different ways to learn. Be it about a situation, a person, a method, or yourself. Taking those failures for granted are ever so foolish. In the midst of feeling strong, flexable, and agile I tripped going up the stairs. Thankfully the large glass of water I was holding came up at me with equal force as that of my fumbling forward and hit my face like a cold shower. The cold water splashing me made me feel rather awake and refreshed as I lay groaning on the landing.
Life is like that sometimes. You have to stop, gain your bearings and focus on sorting out your next steps with the newfound knowledge you've gained. Should you feel boxed in, lost in all of the mental baggage you've accumulated to fill the empty spaces of your mind, heart and soul. Stop, take a breath and go back to that one pure place in your heart where everything made sense. Should that still be too confusing remember; if you’re lost in the woods, burn it down. Instead of looking for ways to save everything, leave it all behind.
I've learned: Decluttering an entire life requires more than a handful of days. It isn't ever just a physical clearing. No matter how much you wanted it to be anything but, the process wI'll be a steel-edged emotional purge. Freedom and loss. The loss will bring saddness, discomfort, and yes heartache. Remembering not to stay mired in desire for what no longer remains in your life.
If your lost I the woods and you cannot find your way; burn it all down.
Every year, on my birthday I reevaluate my life's path. I look at all that I've done, all that I've seen, and all that I've yet to do. I remind myself that being nicer to others is a good start, thus I vow not to punch the stupid people. I'm proud of myself for something like a week, and every year, without fail, I regret ever having thought it. It’s a stretch goal, but I aim for difficult targets because I’m brave. I also enjoy a challange.
Growing up without stability in my childhood home, possibly has something to do with my dislike of bullshit. Stability in many forms has always eluded me. It eluded me still after becoming a mother, but in this life I now share with my daughter and my pack, the organized chaos has become a familiar and welcome presence. When I was far younger stability was only seen as being financially set with a husband who'd adore me. It was a concept my mother had deemed most important to ones social status.
And as mother has always taught us, social status was key. After that it was being thin, beautiful, well dressed, and with money in the bank. Affluent would be a status she'd be proud of. Well that and being thin. She hated my being fat. It absolutely appalled her when I gained weight. Thus we went on our first diet together when I was 7. 800 calories a day and not a calorie more! As you can imagine before I truly hit puberty my metabolism was fucked. I've reread all my old journals from back then shaking my head and laughing equally at my 7 year old selfs ability to write out my caloric intake and drawing pictures of the foods I could eat.
Being firmly rooted both physically and mentally was also something we were taught. It was never something I wanted though. Not like so many others did. I’ve always believed that home is where your heart is. And that stability isn’t about remaining unchanged. It’s more about not allowing temporary but intense emotions and thoughts to dictate your actions or views. It is also about staying true to yourself and not falling prey to self destructive behaviours. Learning to carry the often overwhelming burden of grief, sadness, and disappointment without letting it define you came as second nature.
Its a trait that has served me well. So thanks crazy childhood for that little gem. Mental stability is all about not losing your motherfucking shit when life throws you a curve ball. It's an important trait to have when dealing with the public at large or an asshole DM who thinks she's a god. Since running away at an early age and being my own parent, I’ve had kids, moved to a new country, buried all my grandparent's, gotten married, buried a mother in law, travelled all over the globe, moved more times than not, and left it all behind without ever looking back.
Not a fucking regret to be had.
Although I have not been rooted in one place physically, I am always at home because of Esme, GQ, and my pack. I am with my chosen family. My belief then and now when it all becomes too overwhelming remains: Tree bad, fire pretty! In other words, "If you’re lost in the woods, burn it all down." It might not be easy, but it is damn effective. Well thathat and laugh at everything; including yourself! Laugh at the good times, the bad times, the fun times, the hard times, the glad times and the sad times alike. That's right, yes there are times to be serious but not all the fucking time.
Landing on my feet is one of my main skills. I know that even when landing knee deep in the muck and mire, I'm still standing. It's one of my about eight or nine major skills. Humility aside, eight and nine might be high numbers so, yes, I’m a person of many talents, but I still like to be low key about it. Humor is my candy of choice. Laughter and hugs cure more than penicillin or hospitals. Seeing the good in everything, even if not in everyone; is also pretty damn valuable.
Know or finding your passion, is a sheer thing of beauty. Be passionate about what you do. From great to small, add your own flare to it and embrace the little lessons that pop up along the way. Find and stay truly loyal to at least one friend who makes no qualms about cheering you on and just as importantly calls you out on your bullshit. That one friend who won't say, “Yes, yes, you’re right. Of course you should do it all.” But will instead, give you a lot of hard stares and say something about how on a previous ocassion or two you ended up on the floor praying to Oden to please take you to Valhalla because you're so fucking done with this fucking shit.
Don't bother gloating or assuring yourself that this time, things will be different, or that you've got it all figured out. That kind of pride will get in your way. Failures are just different ways to learn. Be it about a situation, a person, a method, or yourself. Taking those failures for granted are ever so foolish. In the midst of feeling strong, flexable, and agile I tripped going up the stairs. Thankfully the large glass of water I was holding came up at me with equal force as that of my fumbling forward and hit my face like a cold shower. The cold water splashing me made me feel rather awake and refreshed as I lay groaning on the landing.
Life is like that sometimes. You have to stop, gain your bearings and focus on sorting out your next steps with the newfound knowledge you've gained. Should you feel boxed in, lost in all of the mental baggage you've accumulated to fill the empty spaces of your mind, heart and soul. Stop, take a breath and go back to that one pure place in your heart where everything made sense. Should that still be too confusing remember; if you’re lost in the woods, burn it down. Instead of looking for ways to save everything, leave it all behind.
I've learned: Decluttering an entire life requires more than a handful of days. It isn't ever just a physical clearing. No matter how much you wanted it to be anything but, the process wI'll be a steel-edged emotional purge. Freedom and loss. The loss will bring saddness, discomfort, and yes heartache. Remembering not to stay mired in desire for what no longer remains in your life.
If your lost I the woods and you cannot find your way; burn it all down.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Simple truths
It should be noted that anyone whom truly knows me, would advise you that when I become the solid voice of reason; shit has gone horribly irrevocably wrong. I maintain my aloofness, aLloyd while being a boisterous joker. It keeps the masses guessing. Many in fact believe I am never serious. Never settled. Never really knowing what's going on.
They would be very wrong.
I watch and listen to everything. Especially because no one believes I am. It makes for a very informative life. I typically say nothing, not of great importance in any case. I smile and joke and when it's time to; I walk away without an ounce of hesitation. I fear very little outside of letting my children or fur kids down. Nothing else truly matters. Not work, friends, family. My kids and my rescues are the only things that matter when the day is done.
They would be very wrong.
I watch and listen to everything. Especially because no one believes I am. It makes for a very informative life. I typically say nothing, not of great importance in any case. I smile and joke and when it's time to; I walk away without an ounce of hesitation. I fear very little outside of letting my children or fur kids down. Nothing else truly matters. Not work, friends, family. My kids and my rescues are the only things that matter when the day is done.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Be yourself, everyone else is taken.
I was recently informed that boredom is my greatest enemy. Admittedly I'm not a fan of utter boredom however I do not find it to be my greatest enemy either. I tend to find things to keep me entertained rather well. I would have to say that my boredom, is other people's greatest enemy. What I find entertaining or mildly amusing tends to not sit well with other more often than not.
Truth be told, I never understood most peoples sheer boredom. There are a plethora of both useful and completely unuseful things to fill ones time with. I surmise that most or maybe many people's boredom is due to their inability to be happily alone. I've not a single issue with this. I rather enjoy my own company. At least I know I am in good company.
What is it about being alone that sets so many people on edge? Yes like anyone else there are times when loneliness does enter into my life. I'd be a liar to say that it doesn't. Yet I found over the years that I can be surrounded by people a day still feel completely alone. It's all perspective. Small talk is okay, but I'd much prefer to get to know the real you.
Long heart to heart on a variety of topics is far more interesting to me than thever superfluous banter people seem to hold onto like a lifeline. Letting your guard down can be scary. No one likes rejection. At least I've never met anyone who's happy about being rejected. At the end of the day though, who would rather be with? The person who smiles and nods at everything going and pretends to like you? No thanks. I want a partner who can say, "well you clearly fucked that up. What are you going great to do about it?"
Truth be told, I never understood most peoples sheer boredom. There are a plethora of both useful and completely unuseful things to fill ones time with. I surmise that most or maybe many people's boredom is due to their inability to be happily alone. I've not a single issue with this. I rather enjoy my own company. At least I know I am in good company.
What is it about being alone that sets so many people on edge? Yes like anyone else there are times when loneliness does enter into my life. I'd be a liar to say that it doesn't. Yet I found over the years that I can be surrounded by people a day still feel completely alone. It's all perspective. Small talk is okay, but I'd much prefer to get to know the real you.
Long heart to heart on a variety of topics is far more interesting to me than thever superfluous banter people seem to hold onto like a lifeline. Letting your guard down can be scary. No one likes rejection. At least I've never met anyone who's happy about being rejected. At the end of the day though, who would rather be with? The person who smiles and nods at everything going and pretends to like you? No thanks. I want a partner who can say, "well you clearly fucked that up. What are you going great to do about it?"
Monday, September 26, 2016
I typically want what I can't seem to have.
I’m going to be completely honest here, as the truth will surface eventually, or on the first date if you supply me with enough alcohol. Actually when I drink, I tend to be the exact as I am sober. I just tend to laugh more and filter even less. I tell stories that are hilarious to me, but may make others that don’t know me so well wonder if I'm nuts or just mean.
I’m 43 years old. I’m gainfully employed at a job that I can live with for now. It pays next to nothing for the work I do, and I believe management are morons, but I like my coworkers. I moved my daughter (she's an adult) and I into an apartment that works for us over a year ago, but its nothing to write home about. We make it work and thats enough for me. I'm not materialistic in the least, so having the best of everything isn't on my priority list.
Buying a house isn't even a glimmer on the horizon of my rent-paying life. I lived in far worse conditions like those years spent at home with my unstable ex, ill tempered mother, idiotic and often drunk off his ass step-father. I'm a silver linings kinda girl. My kids father and I are friends and I love that he has always been an amazing father to them. We just don't happen to work as a couple. Life happens, deal with it. School, well at this point i just cant see myself returning to it.
I cannot waste my time or energy on something I only have a vague interest in so that I can graduate in five years and start making decent money right off the bat. That isn't going to pay my bills in between, and I believe would cause my daughter a hardship I cannot accept. Working with anamals is a passion of mine. I've yet to figure out how to do so and make scads of money while still being ethical. So I roll with the punches.
I am not skinny. Given today’s standards, I am what you would call “full figured” though others say I'm average. I couldn't tell you, I care very little about that kind do of thing. Were I to grow another six inches, I would be what you would refer to as “built”, but as it stands now at 5’4… I have a big ass, hips, and thighs. I had a big ass when I was young, and I will have a big ass when I’m old. My teeth are not perfect. Far from it. I generally don’t smile with teeth, but I’m learning to accept this flaw for what it is since dentists don’t usually accept sexual favors for payment.
I used to drink quite a bit and had a decently high tolerance for alcohol but ever since I have moved with my pack, I don’t drink nearly as often and I’m afraid that when in the mood for drunken silliness, I become inebriated quickly. I prefer quality over quantity anyhow. I use big words sometimes, if you can’t understand what I’m saying, it’s probably best that you just nod and smile. Bae is not a word. My spell check and grasp of the English language tell me so. Sarcasm is second nature to me, maybe even first nature, I don’t really know since I’ve been using it for so long. I will make fun of you, to your face, and not feel the least bit guilty about it.
I will also laugh so hard I cry and most likely snort when and if you fall down or injure yourself in some other way. I’ll be okay with it if you laugh at me when I fall down… there is entirely too much gravity these days and accidents happen. At least with my drunken ninja skills as the case may be. My friends can be assholes. Most of my friends don’t even like each other and may not even like you. I’m a bit of a commodity where and when I actually make myself available. People also think that I’m probably a lesbian. I just smile and nod. I cuss like a sailor from time to time, but am perfectly capable of being politically correct.
If you do not understand sarcasm, if you have no wit or sense of humor, if I can’t con you into watching The Blacklist on TV and if you don’t like The Boondock Saints, please do not bother wasting my time. As it stands, I bring very little to the table at this point. I will not buy you nice things, I will go dutch but I expect you to pick up a bar/meal tab once or twice, you know… just to make this as much like prostitution as dating can be. I am more than likely not going to have sex with you anytime soon unless you really know what you’re doing and can get me past the point of “Whatever, I’m just going to lay here until it’s over”… Good luck with that. I am no beauty queen although if I make an effort, I can pull off cute, even pretty at times.
I am rockin’ the mom tummy. I've never given it much thought but it seems to be important to men. But if you’re interested in a witty, sarcastic, physically flawed, employed, yet has little time or money, a girl who lives simply with her pack of misfits, feel free to e-mail me with a picture and an honest description of yourself and what you’re into. I don't care what you drive, but if you play video games for more than 2 hours a day (every day) or are into RPGs, or if you're a racisit do not even bother. And please, do NOT send me a picture of your dick, or someone else’s dick that just happens to me more photogenic, or visible. That’s not the prettiest sight in the world, or Play Girl would have fared better.
I’m 43 years old. I’m gainfully employed at a job that I can live with for now. It pays next to nothing for the work I do, and I believe management are morons, but I like my coworkers. I moved my daughter (she's an adult) and I into an apartment that works for us over a year ago, but its nothing to write home about. We make it work and thats enough for me. I'm not materialistic in the least, so having the best of everything isn't on my priority list.
Buying a house isn't even a glimmer on the horizon of my rent-paying life. I lived in far worse conditions like those years spent at home with my unstable ex, ill tempered mother, idiotic and often drunk off his ass step-father. I'm a silver linings kinda girl. My kids father and I are friends and I love that he has always been an amazing father to them. We just don't happen to work as a couple. Life happens, deal with it. School, well at this point i just cant see myself returning to it.
I cannot waste my time or energy on something I only have a vague interest in so that I can graduate in five years and start making decent money right off the bat. That isn't going to pay my bills in between, and I believe would cause my daughter a hardship I cannot accept. Working with anamals is a passion of mine. I've yet to figure out how to do so and make scads of money while still being ethical. So I roll with the punches.
I am not skinny. Given today’s standards, I am what you would call “full figured” though others say I'm average. I couldn't tell you, I care very little about that kind do of thing. Were I to grow another six inches, I would be what you would refer to as “built”, but as it stands now at 5’4… I have a big ass, hips, and thighs. I had a big ass when I was young, and I will have a big ass when I’m old. My teeth are not perfect. Far from it. I generally don’t smile with teeth, but I’m learning to accept this flaw for what it is since dentists don’t usually accept sexual favors for payment.
I used to drink quite a bit and had a decently high tolerance for alcohol but ever since I have moved with my pack, I don’t drink nearly as often and I’m afraid that when in the mood for drunken silliness, I become inebriated quickly. I prefer quality over quantity anyhow. I use big words sometimes, if you can’t understand what I’m saying, it’s probably best that you just nod and smile. Bae is not a word. My spell check and grasp of the English language tell me so. Sarcasm is second nature to me, maybe even first nature, I don’t really know since I’ve been using it for so long. I will make fun of you, to your face, and not feel the least bit guilty about it.
I will also laugh so hard I cry and most likely snort when and if you fall down or injure yourself in some other way. I’ll be okay with it if you laugh at me when I fall down… there is entirely too much gravity these days and accidents happen. At least with my drunken ninja skills as the case may be. My friends can be assholes. Most of my friends don’t even like each other and may not even like you. I’m a bit of a commodity where and when I actually make myself available. People also think that I’m probably a lesbian. I just smile and nod. I cuss like a sailor from time to time, but am perfectly capable of being politically correct.
If you do not understand sarcasm, if you have no wit or sense of humor, if I can’t con you into watching The Blacklist on TV and if you don’t like The Boondock Saints, please do not bother wasting my time. As it stands, I bring very little to the table at this point. I will not buy you nice things, I will go dutch but I expect you to pick up a bar/meal tab once or twice, you know… just to make this as much like prostitution as dating can be. I am more than likely not going to have sex with you anytime soon unless you really know what you’re doing and can get me past the point of “Whatever, I’m just going to lay here until it’s over”… Good luck with that. I am no beauty queen although if I make an effort, I can pull off cute, even pretty at times.
I am rockin’ the mom tummy. I've never given it much thought but it seems to be important to men. But if you’re interested in a witty, sarcastic, physically flawed, employed, yet has little time or money, a girl who lives simply with her pack of misfits, feel free to e-mail me with a picture and an honest description of yourself and what you’re into. I don't care what you drive, but if you play video games for more than 2 hours a day (every day) or are into RPGs, or if you're a racisit do not even bother. And please, do NOT send me a picture of your dick, or someone else’s dick that just happens to me more photogenic, or visible. That’s not the prettiest sight in the world, or Play Girl would have fared better.
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Hypocrisy end
Way back in December of 1993, the 23rd I believe. I stood in my living room. It was a bright crisp day, the snow had fallen and piled up in all its fluffy glory. I tossed the mail onto my desk with a shrug, still running through the items I'd need to gather for the outdoor adventure I was planning on taking GQ on once he awoke from his nap.
One envelope, smaller than the others, stood out. It was addressed to me in strangely familiar block letters, the sender’s name, my biological father’s. It had been years since I last saw him. The crisp cream envelope now in my hand stood out like a sore thumb, I realized I'd only expected to hear from him on his deathbed (mainly via a news clipping in the local paper)—if ever. My biological father had never been cruel to me as a child, had barely raised his voice unless I was in danger, but was never a major figure in my life. “Absence” implies missing, and I never felt loss or abandonment.
He and my mother had always been there but were lack luster parents at best. They hated one another behind the closed doors of our home but put on a great show for the rest of the world. At best he'd been aloof through my early childhood, until my mother decided that I was much too great a hassle to deal with and forced him to drive me to every extra curricular activity she'd enrolled me in to keep me busy and under someone else's care. I was 4 or 5 before I actu ally lived full time with my parents. My sister had been born and my mother wanted to work from home after she'd had the first of a gaggle of kids she actually wanted. Thus I was moved out of my grandparents home and brought back into the fold of what was to be my childhood home.
I remember my paternal grandmother and i having a heart to heart when i was 14. I was once again living with her and taking care of her in her failing health. My father living there as well now since my mother had thrown him out. She kindly but firmly stated that it was in my best interest to emancipat asap. I had been raising myself and my siblings as long as she could remember and at this point no court would allow her to be my caregiver in her failing health. She handed me a wad of cash and a bag she'd packed for me opened the door and told me to run before he killed me.
His rage had always been there, but unlike my mother's he'd hidden it from his children. My grandmother whom I came to find had always been terrified of my father's temper. I had come to know it, but as rage and violence were pretty standard parenting techniques throughout my life it was the norm. To have my grandmother show me such fear, well it was quite the revelation at 14 to say the least. So I ran. I ran and hid with friends, stilling attending school with the aid of my principal and two teachers whom I trusted. I didn't think aboutique all the drama and weirdness I just went about my life.
My grandfather and grandmother died within a year of each other. I couldn’t articulate the emotions. I couldn't actually feel them either. It was just one more death. Funerals seemed to be 3 a year for me for as long as I could remember. This wasn't any different although I wasn't able to attend the funerals as I was still keeping clear of "the family". Still they’d watched me after school nearly every day, when I wasn't living with them that is. Imagining a world without them, well that was kinda sobering.
In the years after their deaths, I had children of my own. A life that moved along at a rapid pace. I saw my biological father a handful of times, from a distance in public. Never engaging or harbouring any desire to speak to him, there was no relationship at all. Dad was the man my bipolar mother married for stability and possibly to annoy her father. Her hatred truly began to errupt when I was in grade school, as did her openly mucking around with any man who showed her attention. Id never bonded with parent if I stand back and analyze it all with a critical eye.
So there I stood with this cream envelope in my hand and wondering if I should even open it. Why was he choosing to send my a Christmas card now? Was it because I had a child of my own? Was he feeling guilty that he'd missed out on the majority of my childhood, and was now going to miss out on his first born grandchildren life as well? Did he want to try and be a part of my child's life!
The last thought scared the shit out of me. There was no way I was ever going to allow a middle of the road racisit into my childschedule life, let alone a man whom I'd come to distrust with good reason. Blood has never meant family to me. Family was what I made of it and I was not allowing him into my family. I would never allow my children to feel the terror I felt. I would always protect them.
Yet the nagging voice remained. "Open the envelope." I did. A crisp 100 dollar bill lay inside the Victorian style Christmas card. Part of me was numb, the other part was a combination of confusion and annoyance. Did I send the card and money back? Did I just burn it? I wanted to send it back k, I didn't want to be a hypocrite. In the end I was. I pocketed the 100, and when GQ awoke we had our outdoor adventure.
Then I drove us into town and bought 100 dollars worth of baby supplies. Going against my beliefs for the benefit of my child's well being was a small price to pay. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant my kids would benefit. They're the only thing that matters.
It has been 25 years now since that day. 25 years of ensuring my children are happy, healthy, and know beyond any shadow of doubt that I love them beyond reason. That my world was made so much better because of them. I'll happily spend the rest of my days reminding them of that with every thought, word, and deed. 25 years and I don't miss him. Sometimes I feel bad that I feel nothing at all for either he or she, and then I smile and remind myself that that is a wasted emotion and carry on.
"Anyone can achieve their fullest potential, who we are might be predetermined, but the path we follow is always of our own choosing. We should never allow our fears or the expectations of others to set the frontiers of our destiny. Your destiny can't be changed but, it can be challenged. Every man is born as many men and dies as a single one."
- Martin Heidegger
One envelope, smaller than the others, stood out. It was addressed to me in strangely familiar block letters, the sender’s name, my biological father’s. It had been years since I last saw him. The crisp cream envelope now in my hand stood out like a sore thumb, I realized I'd only expected to hear from him on his deathbed (mainly via a news clipping in the local paper)—if ever. My biological father had never been cruel to me as a child, had barely raised his voice unless I was in danger, but was never a major figure in my life. “Absence” implies missing, and I never felt loss or abandonment.
He and my mother had always been there but were lack luster parents at best. They hated one another behind the closed doors of our home but put on a great show for the rest of the world. At best he'd been aloof through my early childhood, until my mother decided that I was much too great a hassle to deal with and forced him to drive me to every extra curricular activity she'd enrolled me in to keep me busy and under someone else's care. I was 4 or 5 before I actu ally lived full time with my parents. My sister had been born and my mother wanted to work from home after she'd had the first of a gaggle of kids she actually wanted. Thus I was moved out of my grandparents home and brought back into the fold of what was to be my childhood home.
I remember my paternal grandmother and i having a heart to heart when i was 14. I was once again living with her and taking care of her in her failing health. My father living there as well now since my mother had thrown him out. She kindly but firmly stated that it was in my best interest to emancipat asap. I had been raising myself and my siblings as long as she could remember and at this point no court would allow her to be my caregiver in her failing health. She handed me a wad of cash and a bag she'd packed for me opened the door and told me to run before he killed me.
His rage had always been there, but unlike my mother's he'd hidden it from his children. My grandmother whom I came to find had always been terrified of my father's temper. I had come to know it, but as rage and violence were pretty standard parenting techniques throughout my life it was the norm. To have my grandmother show me such fear, well it was quite the revelation at 14 to say the least. So I ran. I ran and hid with friends, stilling attending school with the aid of my principal and two teachers whom I trusted. I didn't think aboutique all the drama and weirdness I just went about my life.
My grandfather and grandmother died within a year of each other. I couldn’t articulate the emotions. I couldn't actually feel them either. It was just one more death. Funerals seemed to be 3 a year for me for as long as I could remember. This wasn't any different although I wasn't able to attend the funerals as I was still keeping clear of "the family". Still they’d watched me after school nearly every day, when I wasn't living with them that is. Imagining a world without them, well that was kinda sobering.
In the years after their deaths, I had children of my own. A life that moved along at a rapid pace. I saw my biological father a handful of times, from a distance in public. Never engaging or harbouring any desire to speak to him, there was no relationship at all. Dad was the man my bipolar mother married for stability and possibly to annoy her father. Her hatred truly began to errupt when I was in grade school, as did her openly mucking around with any man who showed her attention. Id never bonded with parent if I stand back and analyze it all with a critical eye.
So there I stood with this cream envelope in my hand and wondering if I should even open it. Why was he choosing to send my a Christmas card now? Was it because I had a child of my own? Was he feeling guilty that he'd missed out on the majority of my childhood, and was now going to miss out on his first born grandchildren life as well? Did he want to try and be a part of my child's life!
The last thought scared the shit out of me. There was no way I was ever going to allow a middle of the road racisit into my childschedule life, let alone a man whom I'd come to distrust with good reason. Blood has never meant family to me. Family was what I made of it and I was not allowing him into my family. I would never allow my children to feel the terror I felt. I would always protect them.
Yet the nagging voice remained. "Open the envelope." I did. A crisp 100 dollar bill lay inside the Victorian style Christmas card. Part of me was numb, the other part was a combination of confusion and annoyance. Did I send the card and money back? Did I just burn it? I wanted to send it back k, I didn't want to be a hypocrite. In the end I was. I pocketed the 100, and when GQ awoke we had our outdoor adventure.
Then I drove us into town and bought 100 dollars worth of baby supplies. Going against my beliefs for the benefit of my child's well being was a small price to pay. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant my kids would benefit. They're the only thing that matters.
It has been 25 years now since that day. 25 years of ensuring my children are happy, healthy, and know beyond any shadow of doubt that I love them beyond reason. That my world was made so much better because of them. I'll happily spend the rest of my days reminding them of that with every thought, word, and deed. 25 years and I don't miss him. Sometimes I feel bad that I feel nothing at all for either he or she, and then I smile and remind myself that that is a wasted emotion and carry on.
"Anyone can achieve their fullest potential, who we are might be predetermined, but the path we follow is always of our own choosing. We should never allow our fears or the expectations of others to set the frontiers of our destiny. Your destiny can't be changed but, it can be challenged. Every man is born as many men and dies as a single one."
- Martin Heidegger
Friday, September 23, 2016
I Don't Play Well With Others
I've managed to maintain a few good relationships over the years. I cannot say that I am the most attentive friend however. I adore my space and a great deal of it between myself and 99.9% of the population. I have a small fraction of those people that I allow in, whom I share a strong enough bond with that those whom need me, understand they can call upon me at any given moment and I will be there. Fewer still whom understand my locality to them is so strong that I will unleash hell upon earth should such things be required. These are the people who understand me well enough to know that my privacy and actual personal time is so very precious that they forgive me a great deal.
I am in awe of those people. I could never begin to express my love and gratitude to them for accepting me as I am, no matter how difficult of a friend I am. My son and I are similar in a few of our mannerism and friendship maintenance; to a degree. He is better at staying in touch with some of his closers friends than I. Sometimes I do wonder if he ever gets pissed that I keep such poor contact with him. When we speak it's meaningful and the depth of our country versatile is something that reminds me of a touchstone. That undeniable place, feeling, and moment that reaffirms just who we are and why it is we are here on this earth.
Today I miss him more than I can express, and yet I am over the moon pleased to see the man he has become and continues to be. Here's to another year older, wiser, fuller, and filled with love baby boy. A better man I could not wish to know. Thank you for honouring me each and every day with who you are.
Happy birthday son.
I am in awe of those people. I could never begin to express my love and gratitude to them for accepting me as I am, no matter how difficult of a friend I am. My son and I are similar in a few of our mannerism and friendship maintenance; to a degree. He is better at staying in touch with some of his closers friends than I. Sometimes I do wonder if he ever gets pissed that I keep such poor contact with him. When we speak it's meaningful and the depth of our country versatile is something that reminds me of a touchstone. That undeniable place, feeling, and moment that reaffirms just who we are and why it is we are here on this earth.
Today I miss him more than I can express, and yet I am over the moon pleased to see the man he has become and continues to be. Here's to another year older, wiser, fuller, and filled with love baby boy. A better man I could not wish to know. Thank you for honouring me each and every day with who you are.
Happy birthday son.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Bring on Armageddon, I'm ready.
Who thought remakimg the classic Frogger game was a good idea? Just stop that shit now, mmkay? I am one of the lucky ones who as a kid had the tabletop game of frogger sold via the Sears catalogue. It took 4 D cell batteries and made my life bliss. I also had the Pacman version too. Yeah I was a gaming nerd as a kid, who still played outside and climbed trees. When I wasn't locked away in a ballet studio for hours on end. How I loved to dance.
Dancing, gaming, and running wild and free outdoors was the most fun anyone in the history of the world could have ever. At least thats my take on it all. The point is I once had mad skills baby. And the other point is that my asson has always been phat and fantastic. So, anyway, I've been loafing between bouts of infuriating chaos. I'm still working full time, but my drive to be a super-d-dooper sales associate is pretty much nonexistent.
Management are morons, which is of little surprise. This is often the case of big xyz corporations who transition from caringredients to cash making. Thus I've been dreamily emailing out a few thousand resumes and generally dreaming of marrying rich, and being a spoiled trophy wife with lots of plastic surgery and porcelain veneers. We all have our dreams. I don't actually want a boat load of plastic surgery but a tummy tuck and a boob lift might be nice. A personal trainer and someone who will wash my windows might be nice too.
So, when did summer coming to an end happen?! As soon as I get out of work, I just want to hike in the woods and enjoy what's left of this season. Dogs by my side soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells that the gods have graced us with. Now that you're all a swoon with imagry of sun and trees; and dogs ambling merrily along as furry woodland creatures scamper about preparing for winter; while you begin to think I've accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. While you heathens turn toward your devil-loving and false-prophet following leaders; shaking your heads at my glorious and shiny soul. Allow me to remind you just who will be the one laughing on that exciting day when the world ends.
I will be. But admittedly I am an odd duck, plus I'm a ginger thus all yourbass souls belong to me. Some guy nobody except some cult-followers cares about says the world is going to end. I didn't care to read further to find outhe when. I got bored and someone who possibly belongs to one of those cults sent me a picture of their foreskin so I just shut my eyes and wentertainment to my happy place for a bit. Still, I've prepared myself by regrowning a new hymen for my born again virgin status and making pamphlets on the importance of removing ones foreskin for those men who've yet to get with the program.
Then I wrote a list of things I might like come doomsday and started checking off the items. I read my survival guid to the apocalypse, shaved my head, painted my toenails and douched my vagina with mint water. Those of us who get taken to our heaven promise not to judge you while we're having an orgy with each other, and drinking all the wine. We would never do that. We're not perfect, we're just savedfrom boredom.
Of course by "we," we don't mean to include "you." In case you were wondering. However if you'd like to subscribe and follow me you too could be saved! Just drop me a message, and tell me what wine you prefer. We're completely civilized here on the road to salvation after all.
Bring on the Armageddon!
Dancing, gaming, and running wild and free outdoors was the most fun anyone in the history of the world could have ever. At least thats my take on it all. The point is I once had mad skills baby. And the other point is that my asson has always been phat and fantastic. So, anyway, I've been loafing between bouts of infuriating chaos. I'm still working full time, but my drive to be a super-d-dooper sales associate is pretty much nonexistent.
Management are morons, which is of little surprise. This is often the case of big xyz corporations who transition from caringredients to cash making. Thus I've been dreamily emailing out a few thousand resumes and generally dreaming of marrying rich, and being a spoiled trophy wife with lots of plastic surgery and porcelain veneers. We all have our dreams. I don't actually want a boat load of plastic surgery but a tummy tuck and a boob lift might be nice. A personal trainer and someone who will wash my windows might be nice too.
So, when did summer coming to an end happen?! As soon as I get out of work, I just want to hike in the woods and enjoy what's left of this season. Dogs by my side soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells that the gods have graced us with. Now that you're all a swoon with imagry of sun and trees; and dogs ambling merrily along as furry woodland creatures scamper about preparing for winter; while you begin to think I've accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. While you heathens turn toward your devil-loving and false-prophet following leaders; shaking your heads at my glorious and shiny soul. Allow me to remind you just who will be the one laughing on that exciting day when the world ends.
I will be. But admittedly I am an odd duck, plus I'm a ginger thus all your
Then I wrote a list of things I might like come doomsday and started checking off the items. I read my survival guid to the apocalypse, shaved my head, painted my toenails and douched my vagina with mint water. Those of us who get taken to our heaven promise not to judge you while we're having an orgy with each other, and drinking all the wine. We would never do that. We're not perfect, we're just saved
Of course by "we," we don't mean to include "you." In case you were wondering. However if you'd like to subscribe and follow me you too could be saved! Just drop me a message, and tell me what wine you prefer. We're completely civilized here on the road to salvation after all.
Bring on the Armageddon!
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Rough Waters
They say tough times don't last but tough people do. I like to believe that to be the case, but I also realize that everyone has their breaking point too. I haven't come close to my breaki g point to yet, but damn could we just have a bit of a break? Just a little one? Esme and I have been fighting our way through another setback with Mako. She's been out of sorts for about two weeks now and with that come her regressive behaviour.
Between her moodswings, and our work schedule we've had our hands very full. We'd love to see her come round that corner and be happily wagging her tail. When will that day come? Or come on a consistent basis? She has moments of great peace and happiness, we are so very grateful for those moments. We are amazed at how far she has come, and we will continue to work with her everyday to further reinforce the behaviours we want to see her display.
We had to sit down and take a hard look at her recent setback. It was quite sobering. We certainly aren't blind to any of her behaviors. We never have been nor will we be. Yet this latest setback was much more troubling than any of the others. I wish we could see into her brain and truly unique derstand what it is she is thinking when these things occur. What an amazing gift that would be for any of our bad rap pups.
Between her moodswings, and our work schedule we've had our hands very full. We'd love to see her come round that corner and be happily wagging her tail. When will that day come? Or come on a consistent basis? She has moments of great peace and happiness, we are so very grateful for those moments. We are amazed at how far she has come, and we will continue to work with her everyday to further reinforce the behaviours we want to see her display.
We had to sit down and take a hard look at her recent setback. It was quite sobering. We certainly aren't blind to any of her behaviors. We never have been nor will we be. Yet this latest setback was much more troubling than any of the others. I wish we could see into her brain and truly unique derstand what it is she is thinking when these things occur. What an amazing gift that would be for any of our bad rap pups.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Randomly searching the void.
How are y'all? Whatcha been up to?
Busy as a bee on this end. The desire to loaf a little; watch sappy movies nonstop; while sipping piping hot homemade Chai tea with frothy milk and dark honey; while listening to Yani; is occupying my frontal lobes. I did save my foster pup from certain death. You know, the end of summer stuff. Turns out just when i think im in the clear, life rears its maw and lets out a big thunderous laugh.
I am thrilled beyond belief that pup is doing great. I'd have bawled my eyes out if the little nugget hadnot made a full recovery. Still I am now viewing the negative balance that was once my account and crying big fat salty hot tears on the inside. As such, I am also wondering why I never became a stripper or a whore. Men like a phat a$$ right? Oh I could have been a well paid puppy saving legend with full dental and health benefits. Oh the path not taken it such a disheartening thing.
I am now accepting bids on the following: Beyond Jennifer and Jason, a blessed find for those wishing to name their children something less fucking mundane, circa 1980; a video of drunk me doing something slightly risqué; a half-full (the power of positive thinking!) bottle of colloidal silver; and the body massager my best guy pal said looks like a cross between a massive vibrater and anal beads. Which I bought after my car accident to wish away the pain in my lower back. It has this cool infra-red heated end that totally works for cramps too. It's a little slice of cramp free heaven let me tell you!
Actually, scratch the last one. The thrill of being electrocuted by a giant vibrating infra-red dildo anal bead massager is too good to give up. I'm open to ideas, though, and I can always con my drunk as hell friends into humiliating situations and take possibly illegal photos of them with garden tools and stuffed toys of your choice. Message me with your flights of fancy. I'm sure we'll all enjoy the chuckle. Or at least I will.
Busy as a bee on this end. The desire to loaf a little; watch sappy movies nonstop; while sipping piping hot homemade Chai tea with frothy milk and dark honey; while listening to Yani; is occupying my frontal lobes. I did save my foster pup from certain death. You know, the end of summer stuff. Turns out just when i think im in the clear, life rears its maw and lets out a big thunderous laugh.
I am thrilled beyond belief that pup is doing great. I'd have bawled my eyes out if the little nugget hadnot made a full recovery. Still I am now viewing the negative balance that was once my account and crying big fat salty hot tears on the inside. As such, I am also wondering why I never became a stripper or a whore. Men like a phat a$$ right? Oh I could have been a well paid puppy saving legend with full dental and health benefits. Oh the path not taken it such a disheartening thing.
I am now accepting bids on the following: Beyond Jennifer and Jason, a blessed find for those wishing to name their children something less fucking mundane, circa 1980; a video of drunk me doing something slightly risqué; a half-full (the power of positive thinking!) bottle of colloidal silver; and the body massager my best guy pal said looks like a cross between a massive vibrater and anal beads. Which I bought after my car accident to wish away the pain in my lower back. It has this cool infra-red heated end that totally works for cramps too. It's a little slice of cramp free heaven let me tell you!
Actually, scratch the last one. The thrill of being electrocuted by a giant vibrating infra-red dildo anal bead massager is too good to give up. I'm open to ideas, though, and I can always con my drunk as hell friends into humiliating situations and take possibly illegal photos of them with garden tools and stuffed toys of your choice. Message me with your flights of fancy. I'm sure we'll all enjoy the chuckle. Or at least I will.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
I like kids
Now let's take a wide birth around how creepy that title reads and take it at face value. Thanks.
Kids are awesome. I love kids honesty, directness, creativity, and yes even their completely oddball yet wholly innocent humor. My kids unlike are others are of course comedic geniuses. I am their mother after all. With that in mind maybe their humor is just a tad more sarcastic than others. Just a tad.
Still, other people kids can be quite funny. My girlfriends youngest has the best imagination and humor of any kid I've ever met. He truly is a little kid do hearted genius. So I'm always a little extra disappointed when some strangers kid shows none of these signs. It's sad. Either they simply do not have that carefree whimsy, or their wretched parents have quashed it right out of their innocent little souls. How terribly sad indeed.
I met a child today whom only seemed to possess the ability to laugh at another's misfortune. She seemed to delight in teasing and taunting in a cruel manner. I watched for a moment as her mother stood back smiling as her prepubecent demon spawn behaved with all the compassion of a psychopath. Hown she could stand their smiling, laughing light heartedly even while watching her child behaviour was maddening. I thought slapping g the little demon spawn was a better option.
After a moment I could take no more and waltz over and haulterior the behaviour with a shap, " you're being cruel and it's not remotely cute. Knock it off now!" Her demeanor turned from her I tended victim and toward me with a half smile. My words effecting her very little as her mother drew I a sharp breath. I awaited the " do the you dare tell my child what to do," bullshit and was quite ready to lay into the mother if need be.
The child studied me like one would study a bug under glass. Great! The next generation of psychopathic assholes is well under way. I briefly wondered what cult she'd join, or if she'd just go it alone torturing animals before escalating to bigger prey. It broke my heart a little. Not for the child, certainly not for her parents, but for all those who would have to encounter her on a daily basis. For all those people who would try to make a difference in her life for the better, only to find out that she's already well past the point of no return.
I pray she doesn't have siblings.
I really do adore children. I just don't adore all of them. Nor am I soft hearted enough to believe that they can all be fixed, loved enough that they'll change, or that they should all be "just who they are." I have been blessed to have and have cared for some amazing children whom are now amazingly compassionate, strong, self assured, productive members of society. They are certainly the best of their father and I.
Long may they live, love, and give.
Kids are awesome. I love kids honesty, directness, creativity, and yes even their completely oddball yet wholly innocent humor. My kids unlike are others are of course comedic geniuses. I am their mother after all. With that in mind maybe their humor is just a tad more sarcastic than others. Just a tad.
Still, other people kids can be quite funny. My girlfriends youngest has the best imagination and humor of any kid I've ever met. He truly is a little kid do hearted genius. So I'm always a little extra disappointed when some strangers kid shows none of these signs. It's sad. Either they simply do not have that carefree whimsy, or their wretched parents have quashed it right out of their innocent little souls. How terribly sad indeed.
I met a child today whom only seemed to possess the ability to laugh at another's misfortune. She seemed to delight in teasing and taunting in a cruel manner. I watched for a moment as her mother stood back smiling as her prepubecent demon spawn behaved with all the compassion of a psychopath. Hown she could stand their smiling, laughing light heartedly even while watching her child behaviour was maddening. I thought slapping g the little demon spawn was a better option.
After a moment I could take no more and waltz over and haulterior the behaviour with a shap, " you're being cruel and it's not remotely cute. Knock it off now!" Her demeanor turned from her I tended victim and toward me with a half smile. My words effecting her very little as her mother drew I a sharp breath. I awaited the " do the you dare tell my child what to do," bullshit and was quite ready to lay into the mother if need be.
The child studied me like one would study a bug under glass. Great! The next generation of psychopathic assholes is well under way. I briefly wondered what cult she'd join, or if she'd just go it alone torturing animals before escalating to bigger prey. It broke my heart a little. Not for the child, certainly not for her parents, but for all those who would have to encounter her on a daily basis. For all those people who would try to make a difference in her life for the better, only to find out that she's already well past the point of no return.
I pray she doesn't have siblings.
I really do adore children. I just don't adore all of them. Nor am I soft hearted enough to believe that they can all be fixed, loved enough that they'll change, or that they should all be "just who they are." I have been blessed to have and have cared for some amazing children whom are now amazingly compassionate, strong, self assured, productive members of society. They are certainly the best of their father and I.
Long may they live, love, and give.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Milk Carton
On occasion I receive some odd requests. Pictures, dates, personal information of a questionable nature. Some guy even email to ask for my worn socks. Overall I laugh and hit the delete button wondering just how many poor fools fall for that shit. But none have been so persistent as this spam trafficer. Once again I have to wonder if anyone has actually fallen for this ridiculousness.
Unlike quite a few of my other would be trafficking freaks, this twatwaffle wants me to pay for my ownkidnapping travel! How absurd is that? I mean sure I have some great shots that would look stunning on the side of a milk carton, or do they use those 4 litre jobbies for adults taken into some kind of human sex trafficking? I do so wish we could round up these morons who pretend to be military personnel, complete with stolen pictures; and spamming jackasses. Oh the joy of getting them all in one room and torturing them for day...maybe weeks or months on end with the Sound of Music soundtrack while having them watch those disgusting medical youtube videos all damn day long. Either that or they could listen to sound bites from Trump until their brains leaked out their ears.
In any case as you can be certain I am happily still standing tall upon Canadian soil and dancing a merry free jig.
<snip>
Wealthbliss
Enjoy/get\take plenty:many:most:majority of the things you need/want\desire by travelling:coming to Nigeria\Africa ALL ALONE together with ONLY me any moment:time from now on.The abundance:excess of whatever/everything you are looking:searching:craving for are all expecting\awaiting ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me in Nigeria/Africa at the present.You are paying\responsible/accountable for your own transport\travelling fare:expenses and feeding[both to/coming and fro\going].Write all your phone numbers and E-mail address{es} ONLY IF you AGREE/ACCEPT and you are ready[prepared] to start travelling:coming to enjoy Nigeria/Africa ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me.{DO NOT answer\reply/respond\text/e-mail IF you are NOT travelling:visiting:coming:exploring:touring}.
</snip>
Unlike quite a few of my other would be trafficking freaks, this twatwaffle wants me to pay for my own
In any case as you can be certain I am happily still standing tall upon Canadian soil and dancing a merry free jig.
<snip>
Wealthbliss
Enjoy/get\take plenty:many:most:majority of the things you need/want\desire by travelling:coming to Nigeria\Africa ALL ALONE together with ONLY me any moment:time from now on.The abundance:excess of whatever/everything you are looking:searching:craving for are all expecting\awaiting ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me in Nigeria/Africa at the present.You are paying\responsible/accountable for your own transport\travelling fare:expenses and feeding[both to/coming and fro\going].Write all your phone numbers and E-mail address{es} ONLY IF you AGREE/ACCEPT and you are ready[prepared] to start travelling:coming to enjoy Nigeria/Africa ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me.{DO NOT answer\reply/respond\text/e-mail IF you are NOT travelling:visiting:coming:exploring:touring}.
</snip>
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Too Many Flags, Too Many Fairs...
I've not traveled as far and wide as many of my service men and women, but I've come to rest my head for a spell in a number of countries and states long enough to call them home. I value and cherish each and every experience I've had upon my travels. Both the good, bad, and horrifically comical. It has however left me with an ache in my chest that no one place can subside.
Each of my homes, be they long term or almost "passing fancies" that drew me in; have given me an insight into so many wonderful people and their respective cultures. The kindness I was afforded in each was soul drenchingly beautiful. Southern hospitality, island charm, First National pride, Latin passion, French decadence, Creole desire. I remember it all. I remember how I was welcomed with open arms. How I seemed to fit.
I look around and note, this fits too. As well it should, I was born here. And still I feel like a woman who is home, and yet homesick all at once. A Gypsy soul with too many flags too call anyone of them "my true home." I've set down roots now, and it feels amazing, Yet I do so long, for my other homes and the rich tapestry of culture they enveloped me in.
Until I am home again, I love you. I miss you and shall carry you within my heart always.
Xo My Gypsy heart
♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆♡☆♡
BALLAD OF THE FROGMAN
I’ve been around the world twice, talked to everybody once, Seen two white whales ****, been to two pigmy picnics and met a man from marble head with a wooden ****, been to three world’s fairs, tow sheep shears, and a pig ****, drank everything from Rum to ***, seen a goat rope, two worms arm wrestle, and watched a monkey try to **** a football, seen a six pearl petered pino form Diego Garcia and watched the water burn on the Persian Gulf, I’ve pushed more peter, more sweeter, more completer than any other peter pusher in town, cause I’m a lover, I’m a fighter, I’m an American Naval UDT/SEAL diver, that’s a rootin, tootin, lootin, shootin, parachutin, double cap cripping, scuba diving, Ka-bar carrying, Rolex wearing FROGMAN!!!- last of the bare-knuckle fighters!!! There’s no sky too high, no sea to deep, no muff to tuff, we dive at five and that’s no jive, that’s eat, ****, suck, nibble, bite, chew, hog style, dog style, any kinda style, wine, dine, intertwine, *********, **********, ********, ream, steam and dry clean, And I can drive anything the military has to offer, them 2x’s 4x’s 6x’s 8x’s, them big ass mother****ers that bend in the middle and go shooo shooo when you step on the breaks, now lady if you don’t like my face you can **** it, birds do it and fly from it, bee’s do it and die from it, dogs do it and stick to it, So here’s to it, and from it, and to it again, and if you don’t do it to it when you get to it, you won’t do it to when you get to it again, So up the old red rooster, just like she use to whip it to her, smack her on the ass, send her on her way and never mind her skinny ass legs!!!!!!!!
Each of my homes, be they long term or almost "passing fancies" that drew me in; have given me an insight into so many wonderful people and their respective cultures. The kindness I was afforded in each was soul drenchingly beautiful. Southern hospitality, island charm, First National pride, Latin passion, French decadence, Creole desire. I remember it all. I remember how I was welcomed with open arms. How I seemed to fit.
I look around and note, this fits too. As well it should, I was born here. And still I feel like a woman who is home, and yet homesick all at once. A Gypsy soul with too many flags too call anyone of them "my true home." I've set down roots now, and it feels amazing, Yet I do so long, for my other homes and the rich tapestry of culture they enveloped me in.
Until I am home again, I love you. I miss you and shall carry you within my heart always.
Xo My Gypsy heart
♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆♡☆♡
BALLAD OF THE FROGMAN
I’ve been around the world twice, talked to everybody once, Seen two white whales ****, been to two pigmy picnics and met a man from marble head with a wooden ****, been to three world’s fairs, tow sheep shears, and a pig ****, drank everything from Rum to ***, seen a goat rope, two worms arm wrestle, and watched a monkey try to **** a football, seen a six pearl petered pino form Diego Garcia and watched the water burn on the Persian Gulf, I’ve pushed more peter, more sweeter, more completer than any other peter pusher in town, cause I’m a lover, I’m a fighter, I’m an American Naval UDT/SEAL diver, that’s a rootin, tootin, lootin, shootin, parachutin, double cap cripping, scuba diving, Ka-bar carrying, Rolex wearing FROGMAN!!!- last of the bare-knuckle fighters!!! There’s no sky too high, no sea to deep, no muff to tuff, we dive at five and that’s no jive, that’s eat, ****, suck, nibble, bite, chew, hog style, dog style, any kinda style, wine, dine, intertwine, *********, **********, ********, ream, steam and dry clean, And I can drive anything the military has to offer, them 2x’s 4x’s 6x’s 8x’s, them big ass mother****ers that bend in the middle and go shooo shooo when you step on the breaks, now lady if you don’t like my face you can **** it, birds do it and fly from it, bee’s do it and die from it, dogs do it and stick to it, So here’s to it, and from it, and to it again, and if you don’t do it to it when you get to it, you won’t do it to when you get to it again, So up the old red rooster, just like she use to whip it to her, smack her on the ass, send her on her way and never mind her skinny ass legs!!!!!!!!
Friday, September 2, 2016
Frosh Your Ass Off Ontario
It's that time of year again. That busy week where common sense and partying like it's 1999 slam dance in tutu's and clogs while carrying pokeballs. Have fun, expand your world, meet new people, make new friends. Just remember that every action has a consequence, Don't loose you 4.0 gpa or worse your freedom.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
We want lions
Mizzou researchers sued for blinding, killing beagles in failed experimentRead the article here
My response is far less eloquent than many. However I've shared it below and a few more of my thoughts on this matter.
Being silent doesn't work. Hoping things will change, doesn't work.
Waiting for someone else to take the lead... that's for sheep.
We want lions.
- Jade
The University of Missouri purposely blinded six beagles and then killed them after their experiment failed.
Contact University of Missouri on Facebook: Mizzou. And call them at 573-882-2121.
Mizzou, an institute of higher learning has joined the rank and file of the uneducated, and willfully arrogant. It is no shock or surprise to anyone having spoken to me, or read me for even a nanosecond that I am an animal advocate. I strive to be a voice for the voiceless, be they flesh or furred. I rarely if ever debate peoples choices in diet, as I accept we all have choices to make that are, in fact our own to make. I do try to cut out as much meat in my daily diet as possible for my particular situation. Though I am not a vegan. I do chose to live off the land in the most sustainable manner possible, but yes within my home and within my purchasing power I do live cruelty free,
It is not as expensive as one might think. Case in point, I make minimum wage. I work 40 hours a week for a retail pet company and then work about another 40 to 50 hours as a volunteer rescuer. So it is very safe to say sleep and money are two things I have little of at any given moment. So if I can do it, you can too. If you require help in finding affordable ways to be cruelty free, contact me! I will help you to the very best of my ability! I do not expect you to turn your pocketbook inside out or for you to follow my exact path. I do live my life by extremes in many cases, an yes some days it makes me quite the tyrant to deal with, yet it is a life I have chosen. A life that matters a great deal to me. Their lives mean a great deal to me. In some of my darkest moments, where doubt and self pity seemed to be the only voices being heard clearly through my personal din it was a furry four legged baby that cut through the static and pain and gave me hope.
How can I not honour that love with equal fervor?
I am yes saddened by Mizzou's choices to embrace such horrific practices on whole. More over I am livid at their blatant misuse and abuse of the power they wield much like a child would wield a hammer. Animal testing is as barbaric and cruel as the tortures of the inquisition. Yet we humans, highly educated humans still embrace such practices? To what end? For over a decade we have known that the tests performed on laboratory animals is not only ineffectual but insanely cruel. Other countries have rose above and banned many of the tests performed upon our beautiful sentient furred babies. These countries are:
1. European Union
The EU, consisting of 28 member states, became the world’s first set of countries to ban cosmetics tested on animals. The EU also previously banned testing of finished animal products way back in 2004, and animal-tested ingredients were banned in 2008. According to the New York Times, on March 11, 2013 “European Union regulators announced a ban on the import and sale of cosmetics containing ingredients tested on animals and to pledge more efforts to push other parts of the world, like China, to accept alternatives.” These products, though banned from sale in the member countries, can still be sold outside the EU.
2. Norway
At the same time that the EU ban went into effect last year, Norway also announced a ban in their nation. According to the Oslo Times, “Pharmaceuticals are exempted from the new rules, including Botox, although some of them are used cosmetically.” However, as Julie Tesdal HÃ¥land of the Norwegian Food Safety Authority explains in the same article, cosmetics which have “already been legally tested on animals will not be taken off the market.”
3. Israel
Israel became the third country to ban “the import, marketing and sale of any cosmetics, toiletries or detergents whose manufacturing process involves animal testing,” according to the website, Israel and Stuff. The Knesset originally passed the law in 2010, but the new regulations took effect on Jan. 2, 2013.
4. India
India became the first Asian nation to ban animal testing for cosmetics. “The decision follows appeals from various quarters, including that from the National Advisory Council Chairperson Sonia Gandhi and campaigner for animal rights Maneka Gandhi, to prevent cruelty to animals,” according to The Hindu. PETA, India also campaigned campaigned for quite a while to end animal testing of household products and ingredients. The article also states that, “violation of the Drugs and Cosmetics Act by any person or corporate manager or owner is liable for punishment for a term which may extend from 3-10 years and shall also be liable to fine which could be Rs.500 to Rs.10,000, or with both.” To avoid loopholes in the ban, non-animal alternative tests were also made mandatory.
Why have we, not followed suit? Better still why in the hell have we not lead the charge?
Lions remember, not sheep.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
In the blink of an eye
Life.
Ups and down. Twists, and turns. Surprises and heartache abound even in the most even keeled of lives, hearts, and minds. Stop for a minute and think about all that you've been through in the last week. Now pause a minute longer and take in what you've survived and accomplished in the last month. You might not be exactly where you want or hoped you'd be, but you aren't where you were are you? You're certainly not yet at your final destination, this while totally an awesome a blog even if I do say so myself cannot be anyone's final destination.
The fact of the matter is, things change. People, places, circumstances. We've known this for as long as we've drawn breath. So if you're clinging to your past, or another's past; you're wasting a lot of time and energy. It like so many people that were once a part of your life, they're behind you for a reason. That isn't the direction you're going!
I realize it may not feel like you've accomplished a lot. So I ask by what standard are you basing that assumption on? Are you measuring your life and how you've lived it by another's meter stick or set of rules? Live your life by your own terms, who are you really supposed to impress? We each are owed nothing, and in return owe nothing to anyone else that we are not legally responsible for.
Now to you this may all seem like pretty platitudes. To that my response is pretty simple. Change your manner of thinking. It isn't easy! Nothing of worth ever is, at first. But you already knew that. So what's holding you back? Fear?
I don't have time for such things.
Ups and down. Twists, and turns. Surprises and heartache abound even in the most even keeled of lives, hearts, and minds. Stop for a minute and think about all that you've been through in the last week. Now pause a minute longer and take in what you've survived and accomplished in the last month. You might not be exactly where you want or hoped you'd be, but you aren't where you were are you? You're certainly not yet at your final destination, this while totally an awesome a blog even if I do say so myself cannot be anyone's final destination.
The fact of the matter is, things change. People, places, circumstances. We've known this for as long as we've drawn breath. So if you're clinging to your past, or another's past; you're wasting a lot of time and energy. It like so many people that were once a part of your life, they're behind you for a reason. That isn't the direction you're going!
I realize it may not feel like you've accomplished a lot. So I ask by what standard are you basing that assumption on? Are you measuring your life and how you've lived it by another's meter stick or set of rules? Live your life by your own terms, who are you really supposed to impress? We each are owed nothing, and in return owe nothing to anyone else that we are not legally responsible for.
Now to you this may all seem like pretty platitudes. To that my response is pretty simple. Change your manner of thinking. It isn't easy! Nothing of worth ever is, at first. But you already knew that. So what's holding you back? Fear?
I don't have time for such things.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Practice makes perfect?
I'm not certain I actually subscribe to the notion of perfection. I feel, and have found that those striving for perfection in almost all cases loose sight of the important imperfections life has to offer. Broken can be beautiful. Pain can be liberating. Sorrow can bring clarity. Grief can be exquisite, and failure can be one of the strongest tools for education.
There is of course nothing wrong with wanting to be better. To do better. Yet in those moments of trying harder, accept your shortcomings as stepping stones and tools of betterment. I am unashamed to acknowledge I have failed spectacularly, as I am certain I shall again. The breadth and width of my life encompasses all experience. I shall always live life on my own terms, not by the expectations or limitations set before me by others.
There is of course nothing wrong with wanting to be better. To do better. Yet in those moments of trying harder, accept your shortcomings as stepping stones and tools of betterment. I am unashamed to acknowledge I have failed spectacularly, as I am certain I shall again. The breadth and width of my life encompasses all experience. I shall always live life on my own terms, not by the expectations or limitations set before me by others.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Players only love you when they're playing
I love you.
Three simple enough words on their own. Not hard to say or spell. I do however find that it's meaning is something that confuses so many, at least those with romantic intentions. I believe, our misunderstanding about what it means to be "in love" is often times because we crave such a romantic and often times believed to be unobtainable emotion that we project it onto others the moment they stir deeper feelings within us.
When I've asked, most people have described being in love as a feeling of overwhelming attraction to someone else, or as considering another person to be uniquely desirable. We often imagine and are directed to think through various formats, that when two people are in love that they're constantly preoccupied with thoughts of each other. That they want nothing more than to be with each other every second of the day. It's hearts, and flowers, and sweet missives. Of course in this day and age it's also often thought to be steamy texts and nude selfies.
Those notions and feelings in truth don't describe love at all. They describe lust. Oh sweet desire filled lust. That initial physical attraction to another person. It makes us weak in the knees, and our brains turn to overdrive with the thoughts of what could be. Hormones and pheromones racing like thunder and lightening through our nerve endings, craving release. It's all encompassing and as powerful as any drug legal or otherwise, It's also equally dangerous.
Romantic love is a far deeper emotion. It grows and becomes something bigger than ourselves over time. It's life expectancy is dependant upon our willingness to nurture it. This isn't the case with lust. Lust will always be there, waiting in the shadows whispering the coulda, woulda, shoulda's. Each of course have their merits. I'm rather fond of lust. It's that tequila shot that makes me desire more. Love however, for me is the warmed cognac demanding proper attention, and to be savoured with the palate of a connoisseur.
Whatever it is you seek, I hope you find it. But let us be honest with our words and thoughts. Do not tell me you love me after having just met me. I won't believe you, but I will believe you to be a fool.
Three simple enough words on their own. Not hard to say or spell. I do however find that it's meaning is something that confuses so many, at least those with romantic intentions. I believe, our misunderstanding about what it means to be "in love" is often times because we crave such a romantic and often times believed to be unobtainable emotion that we project it onto others the moment they stir deeper feelings within us.
When I've asked, most people have described being in love as a feeling of overwhelming attraction to someone else, or as considering another person to be uniquely desirable. We often imagine and are directed to think through various formats, that when two people are in love that they're constantly preoccupied with thoughts of each other. That they want nothing more than to be with each other every second of the day. It's hearts, and flowers, and sweet missives. Of course in this day and age it's also often thought to be steamy texts and nude selfies.
Those notions and feelings in truth don't describe love at all. They describe lust. Oh sweet desire filled lust. That initial physical attraction to another person. It makes us weak in the knees, and our brains turn to overdrive with the thoughts of what could be. Hormones and pheromones racing like thunder and lightening through our nerve endings, craving release. It's all encompassing and as powerful as any drug legal or otherwise, It's also equally dangerous.
Romantic love is a far deeper emotion. It grows and becomes something bigger than ourselves over time. It's life expectancy is dependant upon our willingness to nurture it. This isn't the case with lust. Lust will always be there, waiting in the shadows whispering the coulda, woulda, shoulda's. Each of course have their merits. I'm rather fond of lust. It's that tequila shot that makes me desire more. Love however, for me is the warmed cognac demanding proper attention, and to be savoured with the palate of a connoisseur.
Whatever it is you seek, I hope you find it. But let us be honest with our words and thoughts. Do not tell me you love me after having just met me. I won't believe you, but I will believe you to be a fool.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
To the ends of the earth
Say what you will about him, but a man that's willing to burn the world to ashes to protect that which he holds most dear... That's a man I understand.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
I shaved my legs for this?
Dating in 2016 leaves a lot to be desired. For those who have followed along with my running monologue, or that have dropped in from elsewhere; you are already aware I work a great deal. My life revolves around animals and doing my small part to ensure those that have lived a life of mistreatment aren't punished for what humans have caused. It's my passion. So when I say my work begins at 5am and on the average day doesn't end until 2am, I'm not joking.
Yes, I am often tired beyond the telling of it. And yes, it can be exceptionally isolating. Sometimes I think I've accepted that I shall remain single forever. But then I get brave and hopful that just maybe there's someone who will get it. Someone who will get me, quirks and laughter, heartache, dogs, and all. I'm no super model, I've never pretended to be. I'm far from perfect, and yes I can be wicked sarcastic. Still, there's got to be someone who will find me flaws and all kind of awesome right?
So against my own better judgement and that synical voice that seems to be growing louder each day; I jump back in. No tip toeing, just full out there this is me, want to take a chance? It sucks, in the bad way having to admit that yes, there are times I am lonely. I'm not one to cry or complain so I cowgirl up and throw my hat into the ring once more. Hoping beyond hope that this time it will be different. This time I may indeed meet someone genuine, emotionally available and willing to put in the effort of seeing if we could work.
I took that chance this evening. We texted, decided to meet this evening. We spoke on the phone three different time throughout the day. Laughter and good conversation was had. We decided to meet at 9:30pm at a local restaurant. Bold as I am, I also believe in being safe; and as per my home rules with the dogs there are never any surprise visits, not to mention inviting strangers home is just never a good idea.
I messaged him at 9:30pm figuring he was already on his way, possibly close. I stated I was waiting about front of the restaurant. When no response came in the 20 minutes that followed I figured, hey he's driving so give him some more time. Be patient. The weather had been bad, so who knew what the roads might be like. By 10:10pm I called to see if he was lost or if meeting just wasn't possible tonight. I got his voicemail. I left a polite message saying I hoped all was well but if tonight don't work just let me know.
At 10:20 I messaged again. No response and I cringed as the last bus of the night drove past. So no date, now now bus, and miles to go before I got home. I walked the hour and a half home and remember once more with vivid clarity just why I prefer the company of my dogs. My dogs. My dogs whoes schedule I had to rearrange for this evenings waltz into how to waste time. My dogs whom I had to find someone who can handle them, to go to my place and let out of their crates, take them out, and feed them as I'd been at my other job all day. My dogs who bear the brunt of me trying to have an hour or two of a normal grown up life.
Now I not only feel stupid, but also like a big jerk for putting them through that. Chalk another one up to foolish hope.
Hope... I'm not sure how much of that I have left.
Yes, I am often tired beyond the telling of it. And yes, it can be exceptionally isolating. Sometimes I think I've accepted that I shall remain single forever. But then I get brave and hopful that just maybe there's someone who will get it. Someone who will get me, quirks and laughter, heartache, dogs, and all. I'm no super model, I've never pretended to be. I'm far from perfect, and yes I can be wicked sarcastic. Still, there's got to be someone who will find me flaws and all kind of awesome right?
So against my own better judgement and that synical voice that seems to be growing louder each day; I jump back in. No tip toeing, just full out there this is me, want to take a chance? It sucks, in the bad way having to admit that yes, there are times I am lonely. I'm not one to cry or complain so I cowgirl up and throw my hat into the ring once more. Hoping beyond hope that this time it will be different. This time I may indeed meet someone genuine, emotionally available and willing to put in the effort of seeing if we could work.
I took that chance this evening. We texted, decided to meet this evening. We spoke on the phone three different time throughout the day. Laughter and good conversation was had. We decided to meet at 9:30pm at a local restaurant. Bold as I am, I also believe in being safe; and as per my home rules with the dogs there are never any surprise visits, not to mention inviting strangers home is just never a good idea.
I messaged him at 9:30pm figuring he was already on his way, possibly close. I stated I was waiting about front of the restaurant. When no response came in the 20 minutes that followed I figured, hey he's driving so give him some more time. Be patient. The weather had been bad, so who knew what the roads might be like. By 10:10pm I called to see if he was lost or if meeting just wasn't possible tonight. I got his voicemail. I left a polite message saying I hoped all was well but if tonight don't work just let me know.
At 10:20 I messaged again. No response and I cringed as the last bus of the night drove past. So no date, now now bus, and miles to go before I got home. I walked the hour and a half home and remember once more with vivid clarity just why I prefer the company of my dogs. My dogs. My dogs whoes schedule I had to rearrange for this evenings waltz into how to waste time. My dogs whom I had to find someone who can handle them, to go to my place and let out of their crates, take them out, and feed them as I'd been at my other job all day. My dogs who bear the brunt of me trying to have an hour or two of a normal grown up life.
Now I not only feel stupid, but also like a big jerk for putting them through that. Chalk another one up to foolish hope.
Hope... I'm not sure how much of that I have left.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
I want it all
Except you. I don't want you. You're insecure hiding behind your books and "free thinking" mantra. Its all a façade allowing you to ignore the fact you crave nothing but attention. It's such an utter disappointment to see someone with such potential fail at such basic qualities. We all fail from time to time, that's life. Yet to run scared from such things, that is most certainly disgraceful.
Perfection is a word thrown around by so many. Much like Paradise. Such things are seldom in places or people. I find they are in moments and experiences. Those feelings of elation, contentment, extacy, passion, lust and yes even in hatred and grief. Pure emotions, to me are oerfection. Far too often we humans hide behind well constructed walls of dank emotionless indecisive fearful behaviour. It bores me to tears.
Do any of you really believe that hiding how you truly feel is actually living? This fear of connection, fear of putting yourself out there, fear of being rejected. Fear. I don't do fear. Nor do I entertain the whims of those who grovel at its feet. Weakness like that is not appealing.
Love isn't for the weak. Its messy, and emotional, it takes hard work, and often times a leap of faith. You've got to be willing to risk the pain if you want to feel the joy. It won't be easy, or quiet. I cannot read your mind, nor can you read mine. Step up, man up, and be emotionally available if you want to spend time with me.
I will never suffer fools or cowards. You want me? Bring your A game.
Perfection is a word thrown around by so many. Much like Paradise. Such things are seldom in places or people. I find they are in moments and experiences. Those feelings of elation, contentment, extacy, passion, lust and yes even in hatred and grief. Pure emotions, to me are oerfection. Far too often we humans hide behind well constructed walls of dank emotionless indecisive fearful behaviour. It bores me to tears.
Do any of you really believe that hiding how you truly feel is actually living? This fear of connection, fear of putting yourself out there, fear of being rejected. Fear. I don't do fear. Nor do I entertain the whims of those who grovel at its feet. Weakness like that is not appealing.
Love isn't for the weak. Its messy, and emotional, it takes hard work, and often times a leap of faith. You've got to be willing to risk the pain if you want to feel the joy. It won't be easy, or quiet. I cannot read your mind, nor can you read mine. Step up, man up, and be emotionally available if you want to spend time with me.
I will never suffer fools or cowards. You want me? Bring your A game.
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Talk with your mouth full
Oh for the love of a comfy butt. My exceedingly amazing daughter brought home from work with her a new couch. Our old and very sad couch met with certain death when the aforementioned amazing girl and Mako decided that it was to be the item that broke their fall. A fall that was quite substantial in nature and thus left substantial damage. Thankfully only to the couch and not them. So now with that milestone accomplished, next is the search for a new laptop. Both Esme and I are old enough to actually enjoy a full keyboard so we're looking for either a laptop or a two in one laptop/tablet.
We seem to have found a few that are under 500. None of which are stolen! Will wonders ever cease? I've got to go and have a look at them and cross my fingers they have the minimal requirements we need. Of course this is going to be done between our work schedules, running the hellhounds, and attempting to eat and sleep. That is after we also finally manage to shop for actual food. Food that contains vitamins, minerals, and nutrients. I need to cook real food to be happy. Ready made will do in a pinch but I actually love making a meal for someone. The evenings where Esme and I take the time to cook a well balanced meal together and sit and eat together makes us happiest. Plus I'm old fashioned in that meal time is conversation time! The whole eat, drink, and be merry is something we believe in.
My cousins parents never allowed that at the table. The laughter, and sharing in how your day was, well it wasn't allowed. How I would get into trouble when I had to eat there, which thankfully wasn't often. I couldn't contain my running diatribe of days events the second my butt hit the dinner table chair. I mean come on, silence, monk meals? Fuck that, food and family around a table is supposed to be a time of connecting and laughter. Anything less is just torture. I refuse to live a life of torture when laughter and conversation are in such readily available supply.
Tonights menu is poached salmon with a lemmon pepper glaze, bazmati rice, steamed green beans, and baked cauliflower. Easy, quick, and full of flavour. Join us?
We seem to have found a few that are under 500. None of which are stolen! Will wonders ever cease? I've got to go and have a look at them and cross my fingers they have the minimal requirements we need. Of course this is going to be done between our work schedules, running the hellhounds, and attempting to eat and sleep. That is after we also finally manage to shop for actual food. Food that contains vitamins, minerals, and nutrients. I need to cook real food to be happy. Ready made will do in a pinch but I actually love making a meal for someone. The evenings where Esme and I take the time to cook a well balanced meal together and sit and eat together makes us happiest. Plus I'm old fashioned in that meal time is conversation time! The whole eat, drink, and be merry is something we believe in.
My cousins parents never allowed that at the table. The laughter, and sharing in how your day was, well it wasn't allowed. How I would get into trouble when I had to eat there, which thankfully wasn't often. I couldn't contain my running diatribe of days events the second my butt hit the dinner table chair. I mean come on, silence, monk meals? Fuck that, food and family around a table is supposed to be a time of connecting and laughter. Anything less is just torture. I refuse to live a life of torture when laughter and conversation are in such readily available supply.
Tonights menu is poached salmon with a lemmon pepper glaze, bazmati rice, steamed green beans, and baked cauliflower. Easy, quick, and full of flavour. Join us?
Monday, August 8, 2016
Wide awake at 3am
You know what I just LOVE? Being woken up from my minimal sleep pattern by some asshat on skype calling me. No really its fucking awesome. Thanks for that dickhead whoever you are. (No it was not someone in my friends list)
Not sure how I feel about dating at this particular point in my life. I mean, I still have hope that there are honest, kind, trustworthy people out there. Probably in some remote corner of the world without internet and cell phones. I still enjoy going on a date and getting to know someone new, but the fact of the matter is there are typically two types of men looking to date now a days. The first is playing at being interested while really looking for a hookup. The second is the head in the clouds looking for marriage and children. Neither of which is what I seek. So I settle for someone in between to break up the boredom, knowing full well t all has a fast approaching shelf life that will leave me back out in the sea of masses once more trying not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.
I still see a certain vet tech show up and get butterflies. I'm far too old for butterflies and for him, but its fun on occasion to fantasize. We talked about it once. He's meant for marriage and kids, two things I can never offer anyone. So were friends, and we laugh about one another's dates. Still, I also harbor a distaste for the process of letting new people get to know me. I loathe repeating myself, and getting-to-know-you-conversations inevitably bring about the same questions, which require the same answers. I try to spice things up and tell stories in a new way, but there's only so far I can go before I just feel I'm reciting my emotional resume for the person. I get bored. I think I need to create a booklet, one they can read that says so this is me in a nut shell. Then after they've finished, we can just jump in with more interesting conversation. Or if we're both bored by that time depending on how slow they read, I can just start making shit up.
I went to dinner with this guy not too long ago. yes, a straight guy! It was all going well, great conversation, a decent outlook on life... then his wife called...
He had failed to mention that portion of his life. I need to remember to ask that question right upfront and explain clearly that I have never played well with others..
Not sure how I feel about dating at this particular point in my life. I mean, I still have hope that there are honest, kind, trustworthy people out there. Probably in some remote corner of the world without internet and cell phones. I still enjoy going on a date and getting to know someone new, but the fact of the matter is there are typically two types of men looking to date now a days. The first is playing at being interested while really looking for a hookup. The second is the head in the clouds looking for marriage and children. Neither of which is what I seek. So I settle for someone in between to break up the boredom, knowing full well t all has a fast approaching shelf life that will leave me back out in the sea of masses once more trying not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.
I still see a certain vet tech show up and get butterflies. I'm far too old for butterflies and for him, but its fun on occasion to fantasize. We talked about it once. He's meant for marriage and kids, two things I can never offer anyone. So were friends, and we laugh about one another's dates. Still, I also harbor a distaste for the process of letting new people get to know me. I loathe repeating myself, and getting-to-know-you-conversations inevitably bring about the same questions, which require the same answers. I try to spice things up and tell stories in a new way, but there's only so far I can go before I just feel I'm reciting my emotional resume for the person. I get bored. I think I need to create a booklet, one they can read that says so this is me in a nut shell. Then after they've finished, we can just jump in with more interesting conversation. Or if we're both bored by that time depending on how slow they read, I can just start making shit up.
I went to dinner with this guy not too long ago. yes, a straight guy! It was all going well, great conversation, a decent outlook on life... then his wife called...
He had failed to mention that portion of his life. I need to remember to ask that question right upfront and explain clearly that I have never played well with others..
“As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. And then the moment was gone.”John Steinbeck
Be quiet the adults are speaking now
I don't know why I can't operate at normal hours. Well maybe I do but the fact of the matter is, I've always been a night owl. I should move to Europe where they have some sense and take siestas during the afternoon, or have "tea-time" and get drunk on caffeine so they can function. I feel like I should be able to will myself to be awake and efficient at any point during daylight hours. As a youngster several grown-ups I respect have said that if night's the only time I can be productive, then I should just go with it.
Now if during these productive hours I could weed out the moronic interactions with those all knowing types. You know those utterly brilliant men, whom between telling you how big their dicks are and how you should snapchat them your tits, also extol the magnitude of their wisdom on dog training. These are also the men that say things like, large dogs weigh between 60 and 70 pounds! Oh how they'd piss their collective pants within 30 seconds of meeting my dogs.
At some point I will meet an intelligent life form with charm, wisdom, compassion, and the ability to form complete sentences.
There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Julius Caesar
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Observations.
If you ever want to do a cross-sectional study on the whole of humanity, shop at Walmart on a rainy, Saturday afternoon. The place is just a petri dish of unfathomable style, smells, and behaviours. The first thing I have to say is that if you think just rolling out of bed and sauntering your ass on in to Walmart, rethink that idea. Is it really too much to ask that before you wade into the throngs of humanity to load up on bargain potatoes and face cream that you actually embrace soap and water?
The second thing I have to say is that you should do an attitude check before your ass makes it to any bargain bin in the store. If you look like you just stepped out of Holt Renfrew, and have the attitude of "my shit don't stink" I think your yuppie ass needs to turn back around and respectfully drive to a place you, unlike the rest of the Walmartians, can afford.
The last thing I have to say is that Walmartian children are completely out of their god damn minds. I want this. I want that. Me me me. These pants look like a good place to wipe my ass. They don't want to make money off of these picture frames so I'll just break em. I have to pottie. I have to poo. Mommie I hate you. Daddy you suck. Where is my toy? What the hell happened to teaching your kids manners? Enough with the time-outs and spank that child.
The second thing I have to say is that you should do an attitude check before your ass makes it to any bargain bin in the store. If you look like you just stepped out of Holt Renfrew, and have the attitude of "my shit don't stink" I think your yuppie ass needs to turn back around and respectfully drive to a place you, unlike the rest of the Walmartians, can afford.
The last thing I have to say is that Walmartian children are completely out of their god damn minds. I want this. I want that. Me me me. These pants look like a good place to wipe my ass. They don't want to make money off of these picture frames so I'll just break em. I have to pottie. I have to poo. Mommie I hate you. Daddy you suck. Where is my toy? What the hell happened to teaching your kids manners? Enough with the time-outs and spank that child.
Friday, August 5, 2016
When I grow up, I want to be....free
I've been thinking about this for an hour or so. I've no earthly clue as to when this growing up event will occur but it will be glorious of that I am sure.
My mother never wanted me to succeed. Or more like, she wanted me to succeed within certain limits that would keep me from a) ever living anywhere but in the guest bedroom, and b) working with any sort of people that were above the age of 4. Yes it was her dream that I become a kindergarten school teacher.
My mother is this incredible force. Everything we had, we had because she sacrificed her life to make her children happy. Before they divorced after 16 years of marriage she was a slightly different person. She would let us play outside, down the street, when it was dark. She'd let us ride our bikes up to the store for candy. We could breathe then. She also was far less materialistic. But she's always been angry. Had always been violent.
When we were children we could determine the kind of night it would be by the morning we'd had. My mother somehow thought she could control everything. Everyone. She couldn't have because she had enough common sense to let us breathe back then. Still if it was a great morning with smiles, the evening would be the polar opposite and vice versa. Mom was most certainly bipolar. Violent, angry, uncontrolled, rapid cycling, refusing of medication or help scary.
When they divorced, my mother decided that this would not happen to her again. She started making all of these rules. I was no longer part of the equation as I sought emancipation. After all I was 14 and had all the answers. I would have never been allowed my own life, at least not until I was married and out of the house. Everyone has always pushed me to just follow these rules, but I know the place that they come from. I wasn't okay with it then, and I am not okay with it now. I need to breathe, breathe on my own terms without constantly having to traverse the gauntlet that is constant manic violent behaviour.
She is caught in this place where she wants me to be happy and do something great with my life, but she doesn't want that happiness to exist outside of the confines of her and the family. So afraid was she to let me go out and find my happiness fearing that it would mean I'd never come back. So I left. Moved away, hid away. That didn't work so I left the country. I found myself and my own strength. It took a while, but I managed it.
One day though, I knew she'd try to reconnect. I knew I'd have to rip the bandaid off and tell her exactly why I cannot have her in my life. Why I would not allow her to be a part of my children's lives. She'll hate me for it. She'll think I'm just making another mistake that will reflect badly upon her and her well constructed facade. So I continue to keep her at province distance and live. Live quietly, but happily.
When I grow up, I'll look her in the eye and finally say good-bye.
When I finally grow up.
My mother never wanted me to succeed. Or more like, she wanted me to succeed within certain limits that would keep me from a) ever living anywhere but in the guest bedroom, and b) working with any sort of people that were above the age of 4. Yes it was her dream that I become a kindergarten school teacher.
My mother is this incredible force. Everything we had, we had because she sacrificed her life to make her children happy. Before they divorced after 16 years of marriage she was a slightly different person. She would let us play outside, down the street, when it was dark. She'd let us ride our bikes up to the store for candy. We could breathe then. She also was far less materialistic. But she's always been angry. Had always been violent.
When we were children we could determine the kind of night it would be by the morning we'd had. My mother somehow thought she could control everything. Everyone. She couldn't have because she had enough common sense to let us breathe back then. Still if it was a great morning with smiles, the evening would be the polar opposite and vice versa. Mom was most certainly bipolar. Violent, angry, uncontrolled, rapid cycling, refusing of medication or help scary.
When they divorced, my mother decided that this would not happen to her again. She started making all of these rules. I was no longer part of the equation as I sought emancipation. After all I was 14 and had all the answers. I would have never been allowed my own life, at least not until I was married and out of the house. Everyone has always pushed me to just follow these rules, but I know the place that they come from. I wasn't okay with it then, and I am not okay with it now. I need to breathe, breathe on my own terms without constantly having to traverse the gauntlet that is constant manic violent behaviour.
She is caught in this place where she wants me to be happy and do something great with my life, but she doesn't want that happiness to exist outside of the confines of her and the family. So afraid was she to let me go out and find my happiness fearing that it would mean I'd never come back. So I left. Moved away, hid away. That didn't work so I left the country. I found myself and my own strength. It took a while, but I managed it.
One day though, I knew she'd try to reconnect. I knew I'd have to rip the bandaid off and tell her exactly why I cannot have her in my life. Why I would not allow her to be a part of my children's lives. She'll hate me for it. She'll think I'm just making another mistake that will reflect badly upon her and her well constructed facade. So I continue to keep her at province distance and live. Live quietly, but happily.
When I grow up, I'll look her in the eye and finally say good-bye.
When I finally grow up.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
I've a project for NASA
I have two questions not to be followed by questions of your own ... just answers, and by Monday:
1. What kind of method would you recommend I use to secure a Go Pro to the ceiling fan?
and
2. Do you find helmets sexy?
1. What kind of method would you recommend I use to secure a Go Pro to the ceiling fan?
and
2. Do you find helmets sexy?
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Home alone: AHHHHHHHH!
(spot the reference and earn my laughter)
Good morning all of you lovely people, I am actually leaving for work and LePup must join me as he's too pipsqueaky to be without his nursemaid.
Today's schedule was as follows:
8-11: LePup slept
11-1130: LePup ate
1130-1: LePup slept whilst I attempted to attain Master Ninja level status and keep him asleep whilst the bus driver drove it like he stole it.
1-130: LePup pooed, peed, ate and then peed some more. Down my leg.
130-330: LePup played with LeChat
330-4: They both ate like they'd never eaten before, or would again.
4-530: They both rolled around and sang like the BeeGees, If the BeeGees were drunk and had been set on fire.
530-615: They ate again and pooped like champs
615-740: I slept standing up for 5 minutes and then they slept like the dead
We are now cooing at the beatta fish. Well, I am. LePup and LeChat are doing trigonometry.
I am running around trying to accomplish a shit ton of work wondering why I agreed yet again to tend little ones that have yet to be weaned. I have come to the conclusion that it's because I'm a moron.
Good morning all of you lovely people, I am actually leaving for work and LePup must join me as he's too pipsqueaky to be without his nursemaid.
Today's schedule was as follows:
8-11: LePup slept
11-1130: LePup ate
1130-1: LePup slept whilst I attempted to attain Master Ninja level status and keep him asleep whilst the bus driver drove it like he stole it.
1-130: LePup pooed, peed, ate and then peed some more. Down my leg.
130-330: LePup played with LeChat
330-4: They both ate like they'd never eaten before, or would again.
4-530: They both rolled around and sang like the BeeGees, If the BeeGees were drunk and had been set on fire.
530-615: They ate again and pooped like champs
615-740: I slept standing up for 5 minutes and then they slept like the dead
We are now cooing at the beatta fish. Well, I am. LePup and LeChat are doing trigonometry.
I am running around trying to accomplish a shit ton of work wondering why I agreed yet again to tend little ones that have yet to be weaned. I have come to the conclusion that it's because I'm a moron.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
The Lone Rider ...
He's got a plan. His plans as per his personality are well thought out and once he sets his mind to it nothing can actually stop him. His plan, as it stands now does not require my ninja skill, my spool of invisible threat, my spare stick of gum, or my can do attitude. It requires something far more critical and yes far more human. It requires that I set each and every one of my fears, bouts of selfishness, and sadness aside. It may even require that I say those dreaded farewells. Never a good bye but yes, quite likely fare thee well.
That's totally going to suck!
That's totally going to suck!
Monday, August 1, 2016
I heart silence and sarcasm
I keep finding bits of him around the house, a smell of cologne in the closet, a t-shirt forgotten in a drawer, a picture on the shelf. Every time I see one it's like getting a punch in the stomach. Where does one start to try to get over this? How much longer does it take? Is there some sort of formula I can use?
SheSnarks offers me her pearls of wisdom:
I advise a lot of,"Girl, I was so stupid" music. Eventually you'll realize they were stupid, and you really tried. Thus you are not stupid, just trusting; and a lot kinder than you let on. So brush some glitter powder on your massive knockers. Now wouldn't it be a shame to cry all of that gloriousness off of your incredible set of tits?
Don't rent 27 dresses. 27 dresses is why we are so fucked up. Don't rent Fatal Attraction because it's beneath you to muss your hair in a strangling match. Think Steel Magnolias. Because one day that could be you again. You could know that kind of love. I did. And I too managed to stay out of prison, yet surrounded by strong powerful women.
Women like you.
SheSnarks offers me her pearls of wisdom:
I advise a lot of,"Girl, I was so stupid" music. Eventually you'll realize they were stupid, and you really tried. Thus you are not stupid, just trusting; and a lot kinder than you let on. So brush some glitter powder on your massive knockers. Now wouldn't it be a shame to cry all of that gloriousness off of your incredible set of tits?
Don't rent 27 dresses. 27 dresses is why we are so fucked up. Don't rent Fatal Attraction because it's beneath you to muss your hair in a strangling match. Think Steel Magnolias. Because one day that could be you again. You could know that kind of love. I did. And I too managed to stay out of prison, yet surrounded by strong powerful women.
Women like you.
Saturday, July 30, 2016
A Moment of Retail Hell
Hello welcome to ____,
How can we help you this evening?
Do you work here?..... (Naww. I really just enjoy wearing the polyester vest with xyz dog food company logo on it.) Yes ma'am I certainly do, how can I assist you this evening?
What is this? (Slaps those 5 kibble into my hand)
( Am I drunk? I don't remember drinking? Is she drunk? Oh she's staring, adjust the look, appear kind and remove the snark bubbling on the tip of your tongue Jade) did you mean what brand of kibble (of the 100s of brands out there) ma'am?
Oh ya, I can't remember what I feed my dog, she's a small white fluffy thing.
Oh did you just get a new puppy? (Smile encouragingly)
Oh no! She's 7..... (OH COME ON!!! shhhh just smile jade don't say it. Do not say it) OK, is this the food she's always eaten?
Oh yeah I've never changed her food. Should I?.... (This is gonna take foreeevverrrr )
Alright, I've a good idea which brand this is, let me show you the bag and see if that jogs your memory . ... Well that picture doesn't look like my dog but the kibble looks the same , does that help?..... (About as much as me growing a third nipple)
That's OK ma'am the image of the dog is unimportant. I do believe xyz is the brand you use, this is it right here.
OK cool, you're good!
( You've no idea how close you came to dying tonight ma'am)
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