rugrats are hi-lar-i-ous — 1 comment
27
Jan 12

5 year old nosepickers

 

me: stop nitpicking at each other.

7 y/o: is that like nose picking?

10y/o: that’s what it is with men: money and electronics.

7 y/o: look at all those amish people.

me: umm, honey, they are hasidic jews.

me to 10 y/o’s friend: do you want lasange for dinner?

10 y/o: yah she makes one meal a week. don’t be impressed.

10 y/o: i’m going to start wearing bras tomorrow for school.

me: school isn’t for three weeks.

10 y/o: well, i’m working up to it.

me: he’s at the age where he doesn’t like girls.

10 y/o: he’s at that age where he doesn’t like anybody.

me: well, you girls, do have to learn to eat healthfully. fat does run in your genes on the other side.

7 y/o: but i’m not even wearing jeans!

me: you are such a ham!

7 y/o: no, i’m not. i don’t even like ham!

me: here, put some water in this.

7 y/o: it’s a coffee cup.

me: so what?

7 y/o: i can’t drink out of a coffee cup. i’m just a young girl.

7 y/o: don’t put makeup on. you don’t need makeup for the supermarket.

me: what if i meet a hot man while i’m picking out apples?

7 y/o: that’s not gonna happen. you’re not even getting apples.

————————————————–

me: i think i’m going to make that crock pot chicken taco dish i just got the recipe for this week.

11 y/0: there’s only one problem with the crock pot.

me: what’s that?

11 y/o: everything you make in it is disgusting.

(watching a tv show and we hear the word “marg.”)

me: what’s a marg?

11 y/o: a margarita. duh!

me: how come you know that and i don’t?

11 y/o: because i am hip and in.

me: so dinner was 3 brownies, a capri sun, and an ice cream?

11 y/o: pretty much. yeah.

me: wow, that guy is really good looking.

8 y/o: my mommy is growing up.

after i squeezed her tushy extra hard:

11 y/o: in normal homes, that’s considered abuse.

sitting at gymnastics class watching her sister:

11 y/o: what bunch of 5 year old nose pickers.

11 y/o: is this sour cream still good?

me: i don’t know.

11 y/o: well, maybe you should know before you give it to your children.

8 y/o: why wouldn’t the other kids eat mint chocolate chip ice cream?

me: not every kid thinks it’s good.

8 y/o: the other kids don’t know what’s good.

me: i thought we said no makeup in my bed.

8 y/o: its not makeup, it’s eye glitter.

11 y/o: can we have the neighbors over for fondue?

me: i barely cook for you. you really think i’m gonna cook for the neighbors?

11 y/o: yah, true.

me: is that guy a teacher?

11 y/o: no, he’s an asshole.

 

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ponderings of a mad woman / rants — 4 comments
19
Jan 12

paper or plastic?

 

i bet you had no idea that grocery shopping, a seemingly mundane activity, we must repeat over and over and over and over again is much more abstruse than you ever could have imagined. it involves a complex thought process that embodies our very womanhood – the  nurturing of our families, defining ourselves, maneuvering though the female social hierarchy, consumerism, romance, and unspoken suburban customs. so, let’s explore this fascinating dark underbelly of food procurement, shall we?

before we even pull out of the driveway and slightly run over the grass on the right side, we are very hotly divided on the issue of where we shop. we all have our idea of The One which is based on our individual major concerns: such as: is there adequate aisle space for pulling over carts and chatting? what about a chatting threesome? can they accommodate that? can i find those 100 calorie snack packs (who am i  kidding, i eat the whole box on the car ride home) easily or have they moved them again when they were just fine they were they were? is the produce fresh or harboring fruit fly colonies? is the meat too expensive? and if so, does the butcher flirt with me adequately enough to make up for that? do they have a kosher and international section worth mentioning to my rabbi and cleaning woman? and what about the deli counter? didn’t i see that deli guy working at home depot last week? where is that damn take a number thingy? and does their health plan cover repetitive motion injuries because i really worry about that 18 year old who has no idea that he’s going to blow out his shoulders by the time he’s 30 from using the slicer 8 hours a day and the union dues he’s paying a ransom for won’t really cover it? and just how much plastic wrap is being used to re-wrap the slabs of cheese and meat between serving each customer? (i could do a page on the deli counter alone.) is the store clean and decoratively pleasing? do they bag for me or do i have to do it myself as the cans are being hurled at me at 50 mph down the conveyor belt? and most importantly, do they have a comprehensive and organized selection of random non grocery shit i can buy at whim so i can be sure i’m spending $200.00 every 15 minutes?  but, after much research and hundreds of thousands of dollars in impulse buys, i have come to this simple conclusion: like a man, there is no one supermarket that will fulfill all of my needs. and like the aforementioned demon beasts, some markets have the thickest cuts of meat and some have the largest bananas. others are the cheapest, but don’t have a large selection. some are expensive and gourmet, but kind of self involved and pretentious, never stopping once to ask about me and my shopping needs. some are very attentive with excellent service and keep you coming back, others, leave you feeling cold and abandoned. some are pretty, but mostly empty inside and some are homely, but really comfortable. and in light of this epiphany, i no longer feel that i must choose and commit myself to just one market. i can use them all depending upon my needs and mood at the time…

then there are the personal decisions to be made about the type of shopper one is. major self-defining moments like: am i a couponer or not? if yes, am i extreme or casual and just happy when i remember the one 25 cent one i have that is one hour away from expiration? normally, i just collect them until they expire and then revel in the accomplishment of organizing my purse by throwing them away at the end of each month. can i ever be a preventative shopper or will i continue to only go when i am down to the last unopened can of creamed corn that was from 1994 and why is that even in my house anyway? will i study every store’s weekly circular like it’s the bible and know every sale item before i get there and then run from market to market to get an extra 5 cents off (highly, highly unlikely)? there is the issue of being a brand versus non brand buyer (store brand, which is exactly the same shit for less bucks, is fine for me, but the ex husband thew a fucking tantrum if i bought something otherwise). (and, by the way, remember when you were a kid and it was actually just a black and white label that said GENERIC or SOUP?) am i a holier than thou label reader who won’t buy a damn thing with high fructose syrup or partially hydrogenated oils in it until i get to the organic section and see they want FIVE BUCKS FOR A TINY BAG OF PRETZELS? and think a little bit of that stuff wont hurt them will it? am i an ipod wearer or do i openly sing along to the lite fm, the favored soundtrack of The Suburban Supermarket (which i so dearly love but haven’t totally come out of the closet about. That Brandy really is such a fine girl…)?  am i a sampler or a faith buyer? why are grapes universally okay to taste but you can’t take a bite out of an apple? surely, they wouldn’t charge me $8.oo a pound for sour cherries out of season! or would they? and forget the bulk section. do they really think i’m putting the correct sku on the sticker when i’m mixing stuff in one bag that ranges from 1 to 10 dollars a pound? please. i’m taking an average and we all know that. and what about being a recycler with those I’m Greener Than Thou reusable bags? first of all, don’t sell me something that will save you money. give them away free if you want me to use ‘em.

once you have a cart in hand*, you must navigate a battlefield littered with social landmines that spurn endless internal dialogues that go something like this: there’s that bitch and her friends from the pre-school who i see like 8 times a week but they never say hello. they shun me at the supermarket. who still does that after high school? and i look like shit, but i’m coming from the gym. what’s her excuse? at least i exercised. just wearing gym clothes doesn’t make you thin, you know. shit, did she see me? avoid avoid, alter course. whew, narrow escape. oh no, there’s that crazy chick who talks my ear off. quick, hide in the magazine section. omg, i just want to get a few things. why did i come here today? and OH SHIT, is that The Senior’s Bus? crap, now i will never get out of here. i know they have to eat and i know i will be old one day but i have like 40 minutes to get everything done before i have to get the girls (damn my after bus stop napping) and if i get stuck behind one, it’s All Over. omg, there’s a gf i haven’t seen in ages, but i feel so fat today and i have like no makeup on. plus she is with her ugly kid, who’s name i can never remember. head down. keep moving. maybe she won’t see me. and there is that chick with the twins i don’t actually know but i see every single time i am here. god, she always looks so exhausted. i feel like i should just say hello at this point, but what if she wants to talk? i don’t want that. i’m a lone milf today hunting down my groceries without the pack!

*do i really have to tell you that i drive carts about as well as i drive actual cars? i actually crashed a car cart with my child in it into a freezer case. and just imagine how i attempt to master the whole coffee or cell in one hand thing while i attempt to steer with the the other – one handed. plus at 5’0, i am scarcely taller than the cart, so it’s just like the old lady in ferris beuller who eyes are barely above the steering wheel. this is why i wear heels.**

of course, if i have come fresh off a mani/pedi, shower, haircut, and a loss of 10 pounds in a fabulous outfit and heels** (because it’s always appropriate to shop for food in heels. what these old things? just threw them on) because this is my only major event of the day, then it’s a whole different scene. then i am there for at least 3 hours seeking out everybody i can to chat with like i’m at a reunion and flirting with all the underage produce guys until my frozen foods defrost. look at these melons, boys. you got any bananas? yah, im old old enough to be your mother, but no one else pays attention to me, so suck it up and check out my cleavage, buddy, because someone better tell me i am hot today. and where else can bored, unappreciated suburban housewives find self worth if not in the produce department? certainly not in poultry. and forget seafood. though, i did once stalk an adorable front end manager for a year until he asked for an out of state transfer. boy, i sure do miss Cute Joey.

and after i have made my way through every single aisle for my goods, waited endlessly at the deli counter because some people do their entire shopping there buying things i have never heard of like a pimento loaf (wtf is that and who eats it? well, that guy before me i guess), narrowly escaped that frightening, grabby, disembodied hand from the other side of the milk case, annoyed countless stock boys to bring me out a box of anything that wasn’t already out, noticed that the guys stocking up the freezer cases are wearing parkas and gloves for below zero conditions (do they actually go to alaska for the frozen salmon burgers?), wasted 25 minutes reading all the funny cards in the stationary/random balloon section (who is paying $4.95 for a card in this economy?), wasted another 25 in the floral department (before realizing my stupid cat will just east 30.oo worth of tulips), nearly seized at the amount of teas and neighboring cheese counter choices, witnessed mounds of cardboard disappear ominously into The Back, mistook every outside vendor with a snack bag for someone who works there that i can ask random grocery questions of, wandered like a lost child looking for those tiny elusive crackers my kid likes that aren’t where they were last time, checked out/stalked any available looking age appropriate man, spent 30 minutes in the hair care and makeup aisle before deciding everything was way too overpriced and i will just go to Harmon where they take Bed Bath and Beyond coupons (for shizzle, peeps), repeated the same exact thing in the vitamin aisle, noticed an entire gluten free section that wasn’t there last time (is this really such an epidemic now? i had no idea.), successfully avoided my nemesi, drank 2 cups of coffee (one of which was a refill which i deemed complimentary), scarfed down a tray of sushi, eaten every sample that came my way and pretended i would buy to make at home (never gonna happen, sista), patronized the attached but somehow separate booze shop because new jersey is bizarre when it comes to drinking, and slunk out of the pharmacy area with the knowledge that the pharmacist knows too much and i may have to kill him at some point, its finally time to check out.

now, let me begin by saying, i think it’s wonderful that my favorite supermarket strongly believes in equal opportunity employment and hires The Handicapable to work there. everybody has a place in this great land of ours, but i just don’t think that place is on the front lines of battle at the checkout bringing the whole war to a grinding halt. this is the place where a store can make or break my shopping experience. and, frankly, there are just too many cashiers to avoid at this point in my shopping career: there is overly friendly, high functioning, autistic man who wants to be my facebook friend, deaf guy with whom communication is impossible due to my lack of ASL proficiency, crazy/angry cat lady who’s black shirt is completely covered in cat hair, sports a cat lapel pin while discussing her 8 cats, and admonishes me for mixing my peppers even though they are all the same price per pound. there’s Germophobe Betty who wears blue medical gloves for my protection or hers more likely- i’m not completely sure, and practically blind, 83 year old guy with an extremely limited range of peripheral vision and motion who tosses my food near the bag and hopes most of it makes it in. the star cashiers are always holed up in the express lanes which i never qualify for even when i come in “for just a few things.” and even if i were brave enough to flout social convention and ignore the limits and go over, by say, 5 or 50 items, i can’t take the openly disgusted glances of the people behind me (since i’m totally one of those annoyed people when it suits me). and i always wonder if the cashier is looking at what i bought with judgement. like, does she approve of my organic fruits, but wonder where the 47 cans of chef boy ardee fit in? and what if she knows i don’t wash my produce before eating it because i don’t think it really makes a difference, but that it sends my mother into a tizzy? and at this point, it seems fitting for me to address those of you still writing checks these days: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? it’s time that was just outlawed.

all of this aside, there are rare times when i am the mode of The Super Shopper and my food adventure is always so full of promise. when i relish my arrival at my favorite market,  full of vigor and vim, and park 27 rows back, because why not get the exercise? thank god i am healthy with all of my limbs i say. with my super duper list in hand, my weekly menu painstakingly planned, and my coupons clipped, i glide effortlessly like i am jesus walking on water up and down each aisle, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, crossing off items as i gently place them in perfect harmony in my cart (here carrots, you go next to celery. soon you will be soup brothers), and feeling smug for remembering things not even on the master list (thought i would forget you randomly sized lithium battery, didn’t ya?). i painstakingly pore over every ingredient on the labels as i imagine my darling children eating perfectly healthy snacks and balanced meals that i have lovingly prepared like the earth mother i am. no bags of salad for me -i will chop my own vegetables, make my own fruit salad, and mix my own dressings. and after two extremely self-satisfying hours, i place all of my items on that magic conveyor belt in a food utopia, grouped by category and temperature needs of course, at the register of the cashier i have elected to share my prize with that day. and after it is all accounted for, (“oh, don’t forget the water on the bottom of the cart,” because i am such the very honest shopper…today),  on a receipt at least a foot long, and i have swiped my “club card” which tallies my purchases to collect endless secret information about my fascinating buying habits, but never actually births a coupon, i am, oh so, pleased to swipe my credit card through the machine and pay the over priced booty for my cart full of pure love. on the ride home, i can just see myself slaving away over my home made meals born of the very best and purest ingredients. we will gather round a properly set table and discuss our day at great length. and when i get home, i can’t wait to put everything away, which inevitably always spawns a new reorganizantion mission of my pantry and fridge. then i sit back and revel in my fabulousness. did you say cook tonight? oh no, i must rest from achieving this selfless feat of human endurance. and the house was just cleaned. tonight, i got us a rotisserie chicken – already cooked, of course.  maybe tomorrow i will make one of those planned meals, but i wont bother with the salad because, really who feels like doing all of that chopping after a whole day of work? and the fruit salad can wait too. they can just eat an apple for now. and by day three, i am serving microwaved, but still partially frozen waffles on a paper plate callously tossed across the counter without so much as a hello. day four i’m throwing out all of the spoiled fruit and vegetables because canned and frozen just weren’t good enough for my brood. and day five, i’m putting the uncooked meats in the freezer vault not to be seen again until a protective layer of ice for maximum freezer burn has formed over them. and, besides,  if i do make something and then there are leftovers, i will need the perfect, exact size of tupperware in which to store the remains. and what if i don’t have it? that is storage blasphemy. no, i can’t risk it, maybe i will open a can of tuna and possibly mix some lemonade. but, i’m positive i will repeat this whole shopping process again and again regardless of this predictable course of events, because next time will be different…

well, i will be sure to avoid you next week at the market. ;-)

 

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ponderings of a mad woman — 1 comment
12
Jan 12

a lazy woman plans a shower


 


 

9:00 pm: finally got kids to bed, now i can do the laundry, straighten up, pay the bills, and take a shower.

9:59 pm: i’m so tired. i’m going to bed now. i will just get up an hour before i have to wake the girls for school and shower tomorrow.

10:00 pm: set alarm with conviction and pride for 6:00 am for morning shower and pass out.

12:00 am: wake up to pee. look at clock. awesome, i still have 6 hours to sleep before i’m going to get up to shower.

2:00 am: wake up to pee. look at clock. ok, i still have 4 hours to sleep before i have to get up to shower.

4:00 am: wake up to pee. look at clock. oh god. i only have 2 hours to sleep before i have to get up to take a fucking shower.

6:00 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:00 am and 1 second: omg, it’s so fucking early. do people really get up this early to bathe every day? it’s still dark out. i don’t really need an entire hour to shower and get ready. i have plenty of time. i’ll just snooze another 10 minutes.

6:10 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:10 am and 1 second: i’m sooo tired. why am i still so tired when i went to bed so early? i’m still good on time.  just another 10 minutes.

6:20 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:20 am and 1 second: why didn’t i just shower last night? i hate getting up early. i will be like lightening in there. i won’t shave today. another 10 minutes and that’s it.

6:30 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:30 am and 1 second: is that rain? yes it’s pouring. i’m not going to do my hair if it’s pouring out. i will wash my hair, but i won’t dry it. it looks ok when i let it air dry. (editor’s note: no it doesn’t. at all) i can do something cute with a barrette or a headband. i can work it. i just need to be clean, not fabulous. another 10 minutes and i can still make it.

6:40 am BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:40 am and 1 second: wtf am i going to wear today? i have no work clothes. i need work clothes. and i got fat again. how did i get fat again? i killed myself at the gym all summer. i looked amazing. that’s it: no more carbs. but i’m so sick of worrying about it. i’m not perfect. i’m a 40 year old woman. and i still look pretty damn great. i need to just own it. i will figure it out in another ten minutes…

6:50 am BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

6:50 am and 1 sec: i still have 1o minutes. i can jump in the shower for 5 minutes and get ready as girls are getting ready. shit, i have to make lunches though. fuck it. i clean up nice. this is why they invented dry shampoo – for invalids and lazy people. no, not lazy – tired people. tired women who have too much to do. tired women with curly hair that have to blow it out straight for 40 mins. well, no point in getting up now. might as well just take the last 10 minutes.

7:00 am BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEP.

7:01 am and 1 second: i just have to look clean. no one actually knows i’m a disgusting filthy woman. let those sweet girls have another 10 minutes…

 

i’m unshowered on my facebook fan page too!

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the suevolution(tm) / Uncategorized — No comments
08
Jan 12

year in swreview


well, we are a week deep into the new year and the only thing i have resolved to do, as i do every year, is not to resolve to do anything. for me, a list of resolutions is just basically a bunch of things i won’t ever do, but will just feel guilty about not doing for an entire year. i prefer to make more of a Maybe I Will Do X This Year Should I Feel Inclined Once In Awhile List.

regardless of my blatant disregard for self improvement, the new year always does inspire some reflection of the year that just closed; and 2011 was a great year with many noteworthy events i would love to share with you – which i certainly would if my hippocampus hadn’t been swimming in vodka during most of it…

most of my notable moments were during my misadventures in dating: there was a plastic surgeon that pre-qualified me by asking if i was “all natural.” there was a mulva moment with a guy who’s name i could not remember prompting me to rummage through his medicine cabinet to find an rx bottle with his name on it (i did; and then, promptly googled what it was for). there was the guy that asked me, “are those are yours?” over dinner and the one guy, whom i actually dated for a few months, that said out loud to me: “i wouldn’t want to date a smoking hot girl; i settled for really really cute.”  but, fortunately, this all did prompt me make one resolution – i resolved not to date in 2012.

there were a few other memorable moments i can think of: there was the moment of the most staggering irony when the ex-husband told my 11 year daughter who had just acquired her first boyfriend that he wanted to take her on a “daddy date” so he can show her how she should be treated by a boy. yes, he said that..and meant it. there was a very touching moment when my kids hugged the the ex-husband’s girlfriend’s nanny when we saw her at our pool. yes, read that again and try to follow along. there was the bonding moment with my baby nephews when they ceased to cry whenever i merely walked into a room and only cried when i tried to touch them. the moment when i realized i should have declawed that asshole cat. oh, and there was the i’m really fucking 40 moment when i realized i couldn’t see a gd thing close up anymore and had to take off my glasses to read.

i also had some personal milestones this year: i had a boyfriend that cured me of wanting to have any more boyfriends (see above) and i finally felt true independence. i had a new friend that cured me of wanting any more new friends which cemented the wonderful friendships i already had. i moved into my own place and finally got to be Queen of The Castle in every way. i found an instant love that will last me for the rest of my life whom i affectionately call “N” (short for Netflix). i got a great job i really like working with a bunch of brilliant scientists and i am their Penny. and i’m starting school in a few weeks for a paralegal degree that will enable me to have real skills and have a real career in a few years getting paid to do something i love and am great at: flirting with lawyers and arguing.

so, i guess 2011 was a year of great personal growth and finding my way. i expect 2012 to propel me even further down that path. and i may not have actual resolutions, but i do i have some small goals: to blog at least once a week for my tens of adoring fans and act like a real writer, to stop eating baked lays in bed, to stop drinking vodka in the bathroom, and to stop being angry at myself for all the poor choices i made as a naive young woman because all i can i do is make better ones now.

i know this isn’t much of a post after such a long absence, but, hey, it’s just the season opener. happy new year my friends. thanks for reading my blather and for telling others to read it too. thanks for registering for the blog and for following the facebook page (if you are not a fb fan yet, then i have a resolution idea for you…).

all the best for all of us in the new year!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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one liners- hey it's easy / Uncategorized — 7 comments
04
Dec 11

the twelve days of swvmas


the twelve days of swvmas*

on the first day of swvmas, my true love** gave to me:

a boyfriend*** who is so dream -eeee

 

on the second day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the third day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the fourth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the fifth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

five golden rings****

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the sixth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the seventh day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the eighth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the ninth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the tenth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the eleventh day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

eleven diamonds shining

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

on the twelfth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

twelve barkeeps mixing

eleven diamonds shining

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

 

*not so much a gift list, so much as a wish list

**there is no true love

***there is no actual boyfriend

****there is no reason to change this one

 Merry Bitchmas y’all! now give me a present and:

follow me on twitter and like me on facebook


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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NC-17 / one liners- hey it's easy / ponderings of a mad woman — 5 comments
19
Nov 11

Once Upon An Asshat


i know i still owe you a “real” post, and it’s in process, but until then, here is a quick post of a bunch of my brilliantly funny single with vodka‘s fb page statuses, that most of you are missing because you are either too damn lazy, apathetic, or clueless to like the page. Some posts have been “slightly enhanced” (like every single star wars dvd re-re-re-release) because writing hindsight is much funnier and it’s not like you’re going to go back and compare. and if you do, suck it, and then ponder what you are doing with your life that you have that much free time on your hands.

ipod: check. towel: check. 32 oz water bottle: check. still feel like something is missing… oh yah, camel toe: check. now, i’m all ready for the gym.

i admit it: i bought the shake weight. it’s fitting that the “6 minute workout” music sounds like a bad porn soundtrack.

i am making a clean break from dirty martinis.

whenever i think i need a man in my life, i get some fresh batteries and in 2 minutes, i am over it.

i have a vibrator that is so good, i don’t scream “oh god,” but scream “i don’t need a man!”

what if farts had a color and the colors differed in darkness according to smell intensity? i think farting would have to be socially acceptable then.

faking orgasms is like eating potato chips – it’s hard to stop at just one.

roses are red, violets are blue, it’s been over a month since i got laid, so my legs i no longer shave.  (click here for the link to part 2: roses are red)

the go to revenge for all woman scorned: 1. the tiny penis revelation. 2. the admission of faked orgasms. yes, ALL of them.

happy hour: the hour when the kids finally fall asleep and you fall asleep in your freshly poured vodka tonic.

old mother hubbard went to her cupboard to find that it was quite dry. she looked round her bar, saw vodka no more & loudly did she cry.

“mommy, what’s the c-word?” “probably daddy’s pet name for me since the divorce.”

facebook is thoughtful enough to tailor the ad sidebar just for me every day: a dating site ad followed below by a divorce support group ad, followed by a romance a millionaire ad. what no vodka or AA ads?

days: 694. lawyers: 100K +. freedom: priceless. for everything else there is alimony.

you know what is so cool about divorce? you can tell your ex mother in law you always thought she was a c*nt.

so i heard there is this new shakeweight for men. i always thought it was just called a penis.

i always thought the story about crawling out of the bathroom window to escape a bad date was only a joke. but last night, i would have been the one telling that story had there only been a window…

sometimes the hangover isn’t worth the night before.

the hotness of the guy is directly proportional to the amount of booze you drink.

“mommy, can u play barbies?” “well, i was just doing some work”. “oh, so being on the computer and drinking wine is work?”

question: after casual sex with strangers, is it bad form to take the last unused condom home with you?

i am developing a new line of washing machines: they will have a Sperm Setting.

so the ex-asshat told me that i am a “liar, cheater, & a thief.” i told him he forgot, “bitch, whore, & mental patient.” i just hate an insult that isn’t thorough.

sigh – back on POF. it’s like a train wreck i can’t stop & i am the engineer.

gettin’ back into the dating pool but i have my floaties on this time…

there are absolutely no bottles of alcohol in my house… they are all in the recycle bin.

so i was gonna eat a mini snickers but then i thought better of it & just taped it to the inside of my thigh.

sobriety is greatly overrated.

i may have misconstrued the meaning of National Smokeout Day…

packing up a house is about as much fun as throwing up from too many dirty martinis.

i had to get dressed up for a meeting at work today, so i wore underwear.

I thought it was my new shower head but it turned out to be an earthquake.

i thought my life was a natural disaster until the hurricane rolled thru.

Once an asshat, always an asshat.

Possible book title: Once Upon An Asshat

stay tuned for my new sitcom in development: Dating With Spawn

today’s fortune cookie: You can’t polish a turd, but you can take most of his money.

It’s Vodka o’Clock.

It’ s 10pm. Do u know where your vodka is?

in my house, we watch Teen Mom for pregnancy prevention and Hoarders for mess prevention. Now if there were only a show for the prevention of dating asshats…

I like to think of the due dates on bills as more of a suggestion.

Sometimes a soft penis is a blessing in disguise.

20 year olds are for looking not touching. 20 year olds are for looking not touching. 20 year olds are for looking not touching…

so i started to give a shit today, but then i remembered not to.

the more men i date, the less men i want to date. i would have made a great lesbian.

Emergent Mulva Situation: have a date with a guy tonight and I’m not particularly sure what his name is.

Rifling through a guys medicine cabinet the next morning is a great way to glean additional information about him. Like his name for instance.

I really have to start using the garage – the neighbors are starting to track my one nite stands.

New relationships require an exhausting amount of impulse control that I am not properly medicated for.

Well that was a colossal waste of time…and clean underwear.

the change of season inspires me to go through the closets. this season i found all of the dresses i was was going to wear on all of those fabulous, romantic dates with a gorgeous oil tycoon after the divorce…so that worked out well.

There is nothing sadder than aging sorority girls.

the weight training is really working – my camel toe is so much more defined.

gf: “did you sleep with him?” swv: “well, of course i did.”

i’ve done the math: it’s not possible for a texter and a non-texter to make it work.

i don’t care if it’s raining men. let me know when it rains vodka.

i am to underwear as agador sparticus is to shoes.

i begged my ex-trainer to take me back, but he refused. my cellulite’s ego is hurt.

My hottest fantasy? It involves converting a non- texter into a texter…

ooo, baby, yah, text me there. you know how i like it.

Civilizations have risen and fallen faster than my current “relationship” is progressing.

A butterfly can not date a larva and expect to be successful.

Well, the second date may have been a bust, but at least I finally waxed my mustache.

According to a new study, drinking at home alone is hurting the economy… I’m sorry.

due to the recent downturn in dating events, i am now accepting applications for my Golden Girl House. the openings are Cat Wrangler, Housekeeper, and Bartender. Drunken Bitchy Slut is already taken.

I was going to friend request my college roommate but then I remembered she was a c*nt.

The sign at the gym about etiquette that asks you not to stare at other members during their workout was not up when i was there the other day…i AM making a difference.

so many sins to atone for on Erev Yom Vodka. where do i even begin?

some people throw bread in the ocean to atone. i threw ice cubes in my vodka.

I love when it’s so loud in the bar that I don’t have suppress my farts.

Just decided on my Halloween costume: Ghost of Bitches Past.

Flu shots? Nah. Let me know when I can be vaccinated against Assholes.

Flattery may not get you anywhere, but it will definitely get you into my pants.

What kind of man do I attract on match.com? The kind that lists “Playboy” as his last read. Awesome.

Bachelor Number 3 has a “few extra pounds” and goes by the handle of “Schleppy.” so, he’s a definite on the favorite list…

i was going to go as a Huge Bitch for Halloween, but then i remembered that i wear that every day.

I couldn’t figure out why my gf’s hair always looks so good and then I realized…it’s just clean.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, well the sex is really good…

so my cousin spent the weekend in vegas grinding on 21 yr olds. closest i got to that this weekend was grinding my coffee beans sunday morning.

My coffee date today was “described as handsome”…i’m guessing by his mother.

Spent the evening peeling off my nail polish. More fulfilling than most dates I’ve been on.

consider your bootay called.

it’s friday and you know what that means – a sunday morning that smells like spilled vodka and regret isn’t far behind.

what good is a booty if it doesn’t come when it’s called?

if i’m not into the guy who emailed me, but i like his hot friend in the photo with him, would it be wrong to email him back and ask for the other dude’s contact info?

I think the perfect place to host a singles mixer is the liquor store.

Sunday morning hangover cure: Bloody Mary over a mani/pedi.

yes, money and size matter, but the degree to which is usually inversely proportional.

i have a Do Not Call List for booty.

I can never tell if a man is just sharing his interests with me or trying to brainwash me.

It’s almost Bitchoween. I’m going as myself.

i’m giving out those little chocolates with booze in them for halloween.

Shhh…you had me at “Vodka.”

what is the maximum allowable human dose of advil before liver damage sets in? i prefer to do that with vodka.

there may be no use in crying over spilled milk, but spilled vodka is another thing entirely.

Things I should be doing now: paying bills, tallying up receipts of what ex owes me, laundry, dishes. Things I am doing now: contemplating if pineapple soda or pink lemonade will go better with vodka and why I’m watching iCarly without my children…

Bitchy Vodkaween!

Unless you called to tell me that I won the lottery, you’re offering me a job as head writer on my own sitcom, my ex is dead, or that I’m invited to participate in a medical study in which vodka and chocolate are miracle cures for everything, don’t leave me an f’n voicemail.

Just heard about a Christmas registry. If we as a society are just going to register for everything now then mine will be at the liquor store.

I’m placing the outstanding receipts still lingering from my divorce into a spreadsheet named: What Asshat Still Owes Me Other Than My Wasted Youth and The Best Years of My Life.

Coffee. Vodka. Wine. Excedrin PM. It’s the circle of life…mine.

8 y/o: why are you drinking red wine? Me: because I’m out of vodka.

Going to start weighing myself in kilograms.

I hate waiting for delayed gratification.

Dating sites should have a spot to fill in your car type and year. I need to know if I’m meeting a 1999 Saturn or 2011 Lexus prior to committing to coffee.

Makeover? No thanks. What I really need is an Extreme Do-Over.

When with family, you can drink or talk; but you can not do both at the same time.

Wanted: Hot trainer. Must be willing to be paid in gratuitous gropes, thong peeks, and over the top flirtation.

So does happy hour start an hour earlier now that we turned the clocks back?

Reaching maximum crabbiness in 5..4..3..2..1. And the guidance counselor said I would never reach my full potential.

Me: Aunt Flo will be here any minute today. That’s why I was so crabby yesterday. 11 y/o old: silent but with a pointed stare… Me: well, more than I usually am.

november 9th:

happy UN-iversary to me!

happy UN-iversary to me!

happy UN-iversary dear, swveeeeeeeeeeeeee!

happy UN-iversary to me!

I’m drinking some tea tonight. It’s a bitter flavor called “I’m Out of Vodka.”

a friend told me Google autocorrected “chin strap goatee” to “douchebag.” When the internet knows you’re a douche, it’s time to rethink your look.

i got messaged by a guy on match who says in his profile that he wrote his dog a love song. i can not compete with that.

It is oddly comforting to stand next to a man who you spent 18 years of your life with and finally see him as nothing more than a sperm donor.

Score for this week: Accomplishments: 0 Naps:3

Out of children’s tylenol. Gave grape juice and hoped for placebo effect.

There are a lot of things that scare me about online dating, but mostly it’s the uncircumcised penises.

Dating: the more you do it, the less you want to do it.

i am so in love with my tv, that my showerhead is getting jealous.

 

 follow me on twitter and like me on facebook too! yes, i already know how demanding i am and i don’t care. do it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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one liners- hey it's easy / ponderings of a mad woman / Uncategorized — 9 comments
09
Nov 11

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so, there have been a lot of new registrants to the ol’ swv blog and i am soooooo grateful for each and very one of you that is an actual human and not a spam site. it is not a secret i have been long overdue in posting, and i do have a bunch of half finished posts strewn about the place (i swear), but i’m always way to busy (read: buzzed) to finish one. so i thought i would just cut and paste a large selection of my wonderfully witty tweets here for several reasons: it’s still original material, it’s the easiest, laziest post ever, and maybe you will finally follow me on twitter and facebook. also, feel free to comment on the blog at the end of the posts like other real followers of real blogs. i mean seriously, sweet jeebus, people, i can’t do all of this by myself. if there is one thing the innerwebs and twitter has shown me, i am but a minnow in a huge online sea of funny, witty, and brilliant fish. and i am further reduced to one microscopic plankton in the whales’s gullet without a respectable following…

here is most of what you have been missing: (oh ,and yes, i’m aware the spacing f-d up. just deal with it.)

 

Dear Evolution: pubic hair is no longer necessary. K, thx. Love, All of Us.

I’m going to put off putting off things until tomorrow.
My phone randomly switches my contacts’ profile pix. It a major mind f*ck f to see the pic of the last dude I boinked next to my mom’s number.

Nothing says, “I’m single,” like simultaneously purchasing a handle of vodka and a 32 oz jar of minced garlic.
If I was meant to scrub my own toilet, there wouldn’t be illegal immigration.
I never burn a bridge. I blow them the f*ck up.
Dear Teachers: I went to school already. So F off w the home projects.
No, I don’t want to take a customer satisfaction survey. Let’s stick with the premise that you suck.
Oh hot men at the gym during the day, do any of you have jobs?
Starbucks is to caffeine as Phillip Morris is to nicotine.
Good night sweet vodka.
I’m trying to f*ck age appropriately, but the best I can do is a threesome with two 20 year olds.
Ok. Just one more…
It is just wrong to have wrinkles and zits simultaneously. I need to speak to customer service about this.
Grossly overestimated the amount of candy I needed. Sucks to be my thighs and next years trick or treaters.
7pm. Let the wineing begin.
I’m not divorced so much as pre-owned.
If everyone is going to register for stuff now, I’m going to register at the liquor store.
The weekend is officially over when the vodka bottle is empty.
My cat is humping my arm. I wish I minded.
I will always love her, but I will never accept my daughter’s alt lifestyle of being a slob.
Yes I saw you called. I don’t want to talk to you…or listen to your voicemail.
Lazy Sunday. As if that’s different from any other day.
Procrastination. It’s what’s for dinner.
My 8 y/o is defacing images of Beiber. Parenting: I’m doin’ it double right.
Got my 8 & 11 y/o hooked on The Office. Parenting: I’m doin’ it right.
Last night was very emotional: I cried over spilled vodka.
You lost me at “money isn’t important.”
we pinky swore we’d be Best Facebook Friends Forever. BFBF.
What exactly is the maximum dose of advil a human can consume before liver damage is imminent?
Finally. An evening worth waxing my lip for.
Who the fuck is driving me home?
I don’t look quite as fab in work light as I thought I did in home light…
I found a dentist that doesn’t floss. I knew it.
Just cleaned out the fridge. And by cleaned I mean ate everything in it.
my costume: the creepy lady who sits on her driveway in a lawn chair and hands out candy while drinking vodka
one day my prince will come…but he will have already have been someone else’s asshole.
When did it become ok to leave pee all over the seat? Whores.
I’m going to go Occupy Nordstrom.

No thanx. I don’t want to be your Uptown Girl.
once upon a time..i gave a shit.
Reunited and it feels so good: me and my nordstrom card.
Lovely to meet you, Mr. Bad Breath. Let me introduce you to Ms. Mentos. I will be over there- far, far over there.
Wearing workout clothes does not make you thin.

yes, your car matters. i don’t ride shotty in a hyundai.
Your booty is officially on my do not call list.
it’s 12:15am. calling all booties.
She said she wanted to lose 10 lbs and I was thinking, “that’s all?”
the weekend starts now – put kahlua in your coffee, vodka in your thermos, and a pair of clean underwear in your purse.
consider your bootay called.
I’m giving it 9 more years and then it’ s crazy cat lady all the way.
My favorite chaser? Ibuprofin.
There is just enough vodka to make this ok.
Vodka: Nature’ s laxative.
The first female leader of the Cherokee Nation is named Wilma Mankiller.
i’m bored. times to overbid on some useless shit on ebay.
It’s Yom Vodka. Atone bitches.
Somteimes a shower is just a shower.
I hate warm seats from strange assess.
I am the Penny of my workplace.
I can’t believe I wasted a pair of clean underwear on this guy.
And so I start another week. My spirits high. My vodka bottle full.

L’ Shanah Vodka.
I begged my trainer to take me back. He did not. My cellulite’s ego is hurt.
It would be easier to meet men at the gym if the juice bar had vodka smoothies.
First fight meets first rag. Concidence? I think not.

don’t text and drink: unlike a side view mirror, you can not fix it.
Can a texter and a nontexter ever make it work?
Dear 40: you can stay, but your friend Back Fat has to go

The amount of calories consumed is directly proportional to the amount of clothing worn.
What not ask on a first date: “so, are those real?
Dont go on the date if he’s not worth shaving for…
gf: “Stop looking around like that, it looks like ur on the prowl.” Me: “But I am.”
I just received the supreme compliment: rotlflmfao
The more men I date, the less I want to date men. I would have made a great lesbian.
it’s GNO tonight. alert the hos.
just had 2 years of tartar scraped off. i really need 2 start flossing.
if the simpsons have been on 4 a record breaking 20 years, y r the same episode always repeated?
15 voice mails: a personal best for un-retrieved messages. i can do better.!
is it me or does alpaca owning seem suspciousuly reminiscent of cult membership?
sick 6 yr old at home = refresher course of torturous disney shows. send help

.let me know when the caffeine patch has been invented.
i can’t tell if ex is brown-nosing or flirting with the math tutor (who’s a DUDE), but in either case i am actually embarrassed for him.
i admit it: i bought the shake weight. it’s fitting that the “6 minute workout” music sounds like a bad porn soundtrack…
9:45 am: begin 4 day master cleanse diet. 12:38 pm: end 4 day master cleanse diet. 12:55pm: lunch.

short list of stains on my carpet: ketchup, chicken soup, applesauce, barf, nail polish, ink, hand cream, yogurt, glue, gatorade, & coffee.
so wawa’s coffetopia featured flavor this month is brazilian. now you can have your coffee just like your bikini line…
i just tried to fast forward my dvr with my cell phone. technology much?
if women designed supermarkets, there would be conversation nooks in the aisles.
i have a feeling herding cats is easier than getting my 2 girls out of the house
curious what the tooth fairy does in the off season. her dust looks suspiciously like stripper glitter…
anyone have any extra elves to come clean my house while i sleep?
in a pinch (literally), can chlorox cleanups can be subsituted for charmin wipes?
merry EX-mas!
i just realized the reason for it all: the ex’s heart is simply 2 sizes too small…
redoing the ol’ resume. my last computer experience listed: proficiency in word/excel 97. awesome.
i don’t know the answer to the age old debate of who’s easier to raise: girls or boys. but i do know girls involve way more glitter.
today was a complete waste of contacts.
umm so, yah, i find storm troopers sexy. who’s w me ladies?

ladies, feel free to clip ur toenails IN BETWEEN pedis. really. please.
just found out there is a 5th baldwin.brother: schlomo
it is 12:30 am and i am eating american cheese on nacho doritos. doesn’t get sexier than this…

you know it’s laundry time when you have to go commando…
dear old navy: enough with the creepy talking mannequin commercials. please.
i just saw the cashier from wegmans shopping at shoprite. innerestin..
does cosco sell a vodka club pack?
when nerds reproduce, the result is exactly what you would expect.
told my 8 yr old i thought the transformers movie was awful & she said, “maybe it isn’t your genre.” oh snap.
umm. pretty sure this bar became a gay bar since my last visit. hey, prettiest girls here tho…

ed hardy makes vodka now. clearly he is trying 2 get on my good side…
u know u have an awesome boyfriend when he cleans the bathroom while making you dinner while singing to you while playing the gee-tar…
3 trips 2 DD 2day @ 3 diff DD with 3 diff levels of crappy service.
is there a 12 step for carb addiction? i clearly have a problem & need help
before u buy ur dog a snuggie for xmas this year, i urge u 2 consider 1 thing: dogs have FU*KING fur.
i wish people wuld b more considerate when im eavesdropping & have more interesting convos.
so my 2 rugrats sleep w me every nite. wouldn’t mind if they didn’t expand llike transformers when they do…
indications ur date went well: u singed ur hair on a candle flame, u went home with ur undies in ur purse, & u scored a sweet new t-shirt.
how does lowly worm steer the apple car? he has no arms. this may give u a hint of what i watch on elliptical…
things i am not watching while on elliptical: cooking shows, shapewear infomercials, anything related 2 exercise.
2 questions: what is the legal age for cofee consumption & y r there always so many tiny sox around?
how much do u have 2 suck at making cookies to be asked 2 leave the prep area by your 8 yr old?
i’m not sure when it happened, but at some point i became a “ma’am.” not the most thrilling realization.
ate my weight in tiny chocolate bars today. i have decided to embrace “voluptuousness” for awhile
ice cream cake + nacho doritos = halloween dinner. hits all the important food groups.

note to rugrats: unattended halloween candy will be considered communal property & dealt with accordingly…
my favorite mutant on futurama is definitely the leg with the hat.
ugly, but true confessions: i watched the lord of the rings trilogy, i enjoyed it immensely, and middle earth makes me randy.
i am now sure civilzation is ending soon: they have made dog snuggies…in animal prints. just stop.
accidentally switched my scale to kilograms. liked my weight much better. gonna keep it that way. i am soooo thin now!
i’m too sexy for this walmart.
the queen proclaimed, “the fat jeans are loose.” and there was rejoicing in all the land. ice cream for all.
the daily 8:11 am dilemma after bus leaves: go to gym or get back into bed to resume hibernation. adulthood is frought w tough decisions.
there is a gd colony of fruit flies squatting in my kitchen.
lost in corn maze: please send help & GPS.
deep thoughts: if u r a ups delivery person, the best gig has got 2 be dleivering inside the mall.
so is it fair 2 say ur kid is f’d in math when the tutor is stressed out & worried after the hour?
i luv how this chick on hgtv is painting while wearing a white t & jacket. puh-leeze.
cast my stones in the ocean today: i am ready for a fresh year of sin..
5 yr old eating candy @ 8:57 pm. seems like a good idea.
after close to a year of hard labor, i am proud & relieved to announce my completion of the twilight series. no more, ms. meyer. no more
just dowloaded phineas & ferb soundtrack 4 MYSELF. solid.
OMG. i literally split my jeans trying 2 wiggle them on. time 2 put down the oreos…
don’t ask why. just know that i am sleeping w a 5 yr olds foot up my ass..
you’ve heard of the 2 martini lunch? well i just had the 3 getting divorced milf lunch. no vodka, but just as entertaining…
does anyone give a shit about car alarms anymore?
i want to be a vampire like bella cullen. i know the first person i would eat.
as i was dragging my crabby child out of bed this morning, i was wondering if it would be wrong to give a 6 yr old coffee…
it’s fun sit upstairs at wegman’s & check out everybody’s roots. time 2 make an appointment ladies …
i am living in the middle of a shit storm & i have no tp.
just lost a nail pulling out weeds. this is why i am not domestic, people.
i just witnessed the purchase of a cinnamon broom. i am disgusted yet fascinated…
smuggled coffee onto elliptical again. lookin out for the java gym police. bright me if u see ‘em
hey suzy sprinkles, wipe the fu*king seat down after ur done. for god sakes. fn pigs.
i am considering opening a plumbing business called “The Crack.”
did u know gene shallot was still alive? his huge afro hasn’t aged a bit.

just spotted my first “the bump” wearer. she looks like elvira. not a good look, ladies.

is it wrong 2 heist booze from ur parents’ hopuse if ur over 21?
i am watching the biggest loser whilst eating a bag of potato chips. baked lays at least…
not sure if i am i proud or troubled my almost 6 yr old asks for hairspray every morning.
my almost 9yr just old asked, “was there even color (tv) in 1991?”
9 yr old girls: 15 mins in sprinklers outside. 60 mins showering inside.
what is it about a dude playing the guitar that makes u want 2 rip ur clothes off?
crap. the fat jeans are tight.
u know ur doing a stellar parenting job when ur 5 yr old does a spot on dr. zoidberg impression…
sis said my blog was blocked at work due 2 “objectionable tasteless content.” i have arrived…
8 yr old: does the pool close at 7 b/c the old people have 2 go 2 sleep?
i hate when people say “visually see.” what other way do u see? morons. i “aurally hear.”
a grown woman should not have potato chip crumbs in her bed …yet i do.

dear ed hardy & fans: it’s over.
most obnox woman in pedi chair nxt 2 me. they r so talkling abt her in korean.
back from chocolateville. my thighs arrived home shortly b4 i did…
PA people have a certain look. i believe it is called “inbred.”
cartoon netwrok is adding shows w real people now. i am not pleased.
if i see the same random peeps @ target every time i go, r they there 2 much or am i?
large group of crotchety old peeps at pool solving all of nation’s problems. listen up, obama.
my gf just told me the ringtone on her cell 4 me is “blame it on the alcohol.” DOH.

hey seating karma: u messed up. i am supoosed 2 b next 2 hot guy. not lovely chatty elderly couple.
the hotels in vegas should have a complimentary bottle of aspirin in each room.
i just got 2 vegas & i’m already down 25 bux in TSA confiscated liquids over 3 oz.
hate the mac. love their nerds. internet restored. faith in apple not.
morning sue & her dentist r gonna b really pissed at evening sue for eating those milk duds from halloween.

went 2 the gym. it was closed. eating pizza in my workout clothes instead…
being cut off from the internet is the adult version of being sent 2 ur room. cool stuff is happening w/o me.
i am not sure 2 flavors of doritos need 2 share 1 bag. i am sure i should not b eating them now.
caught up w an old pal 2day named nordstrom. we both agreed to continue 2 deny my shoe problem…
painful discovery: the size of the muffin top is inversely proportional 2 the skinniness of the jeans. sigh.
there is frozen food in my trunk defrosting as i do the elliptical. priorities. what’s a little salmonella btwn friends?
if i had harry potter’s invisibility cloak right now, i would use it to take a nap.how many calories does yenta-ing at the gym burn?
dear 19 yr old lifeguard @ the senior’s pool: it’s possible there’s no sadder summer job than yours
rockin the 2 piece at the seniors pool. i def have the best bod here.
dear sea bright: trouble is rolling into town tonight & bringing 9 friends…
u know that glue used for adhering samples 2 magazines that is like boogers? i f’n luv that stuff.
being old is not an all access pass to the front of the line. wait ur turn like the rest of us old biddy.
hey starbux, might i suggest renaming ur “kenyan gold” to “bowel blaster?” sweet jeebus.
public parks are really great cept for one thing: the public
.large DD skim milk hot latte + leftover mac & chee w hot sauce = happinessplaying mastermind w my 5 yr old. not only is she teaching me but she is kicking my ass.
food courts provide the most fascinating cross-section of humanity.
if ur actually deaf & reading the close captioning, how would u know what a slide whistle sounds like?
singing barbie. singing barbie. MAKE IT STOP!
the frustration w the continually crappy weather lies in the fact that Ma Nature doesn’t have a customer svc line in India u can bitch to.
note to cleaning product advertisers: we don’t actually wear a bandana on our head while cleaning.
i love how they hold your coffee hostage at the D&D drive thru until you give up the cash. must be a high incidence of coffee poaching.

i got the “no cash in my wallet, no gas in my car, no coffee in my blood blues.” my mornings are a bad country song.
you ever run into someone you deleted from your cell phone?
awkwarrrrrrd.ok who ratted me out? the jehovahs came to see me today…
i have now exceeded the daily limit of aspirin. i am not concerned since any liver damage will just be redundant.
whew. that was fun. sorry to all those i spilled on….
grey goose & club w a lime. who’s buying my first drink? no fighting. there will be more chances…
am i the only one who feels like a homeless person when u buy a bottle of wine & the dude puts it in a brown bag?
ipod: check. water: check. sports bra: check. camel toe: check. ready for the gym.
Extensive research has revealed it is impossible not to sport camel toe in work out pants.
who buys 150 munchkins and leaves only 18 chocolate ones for the rest of us? bastages, that’s who.
damn you instyler. damn you straight to hell. you shall go back to the tv dimension from whence you came.
i have 3rd degree burns on my forehead from my new Instyler. Clearly i am not a professional.a
another weekend comes to an end & my liver couldn’t be more grateful. rest up my faithful companion. friday is on the horizon.
have a stamp on my hand & i am sweating vodka. i’d say last nite was a success.
water. tylenol. repeat.

i just burned the back of my neck w my brandy new Instyler. this was not mentioned during the infomercial.
me so soggy. me me so soggyyyyy. this rain blows.
male math tutors that come to my house should not be young & hot. period.
instead of my alarm, i woke up to a duet extolling the virtues of poopy. truly a hallmark moment.
you can size up someone in 2 seconds by how they place their coffee order.
i thought barney was the root of all evil. turns out it’s hip hop harry.
would u like ur  morning 8 yr old drama w hash browns or home fries? ketchup w that?
“Hey, it’s Frankilinnnnn, the whiney insufferable wussy turrrrrtle.”
definition of slacker mom: sleep til 11 while kids eat cheese doodles 4 bfast. i am so gooood at this.i’m at a theater.
the bitch next 2 me smells obnoxiously of “fresh scent” tampons. anyone wanna switch seats?
8 y/o:: Daddy, you’re losing your hair. Me: ahhh, my evil plan is working. bwah hah hah.
Now accepting applications for personal barista. The money isn’t good, but the adoration will be priceless. Now make me a skim latte stat!
I am feeling tweetless:  Looks like I am far less fascinating that previously imagined.
i am so bleepin tired of putting the same things away. i had no idea motherhood meant being “the stuff wrangler.
who minds being sick when you can have a hot toddy? well, other than my overworked liver.
so back 2 the grind. Im a bit bummed. My liver is relieved.
Crap. The kids are home. Game over.Oldest Child: Mommy, you have dimples on your butt. Me: Thanks for noticing.
ate my weight in chips & salsa 2day& my guacamole blood content must b over the legal limit.
It just wouldn’t be morning without a fresh 8 yr old tantrum to go with my Folgers Crystals. Ahh. I am so fulfilled.
just realized i am watching sesame st alone. is it bad that i’m enjoying it?

Asked the kids at bus stop this morn how many days of school left, is it friday yet, and why didn’t u bring me coffee? daughter was not pleased.
I am being held against my will in an insane asylum called Parenthood State Hospital. Please come see me for visiting hours.ahhh. nuthin says monday like 8 am 8 yr old drama. “hey mom, welcome to ur week, beyatch.”
i wish i had a live-in barrista. my coffee really sux.
so oxyclean DOES get blood out…
why do supermarket cashiers always wanna chat w u about their 12 cats?
young duaghter: where do these (wings) come from? me: uh, u know those cute lil chicks u hatched at school? young daughter: oh. well they r delicious.
microwave popcorn: providing a viable dinner option since 1989.
i am still trying to figure out why having my kids with me for mother’s day is a reward…

 

 

 

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ponderings of a mad woman / the suevolution(tm) — 8 comments
21
Sep 11

what i did over summer vacation

 

well, it happened. and i am just heartbroken. devastated, really. i thought i could put it off by avoiding it. i begged. i pleaded. i cried. but it’s over. and all that’s left to do now is pick up the pieces and move on. start over. again. i have to brace my shoulders, choke back the tears and accept that my true love, summer, has left me. and it was never more evident than Labor Day, so dreary. the last hurrah at the swim club.  the kids swam in icy water and the moms sat and watched those callous teenage lifeguards, who, of all people should appreciate most, the fleeting, fragile beauty of summer, unceremoniously strip the giant umbrellas of their coverings, leaving cold steel skeletons. it was a heartless and cruel breakup. and  dejectedly, i faced a less suitable, arranged companion, the dreaded and evil BTS (Back To School) who is always closely followed by the worst inhumane beast of all…winter.

it’s been quite a traumatic transition, to be honest: what with unpacking the beach bag that was always by my side, delating the fun floaty pool things which seemed to take an eternity, turning in the beach and pool badges, tossing the empty sunscreen bottles, washing the beach towels for the last time, and saying goodbye to the fireflies.  all traded in for the gathering of a mountain of school supplies, the dusting off of the backpacks, the digging out of the moldy lunch boxes, and facing the inevitability of book reports, hours of homework, spelling words, math tests, reading logs, science projects, and studying. endlessly suffering an insultingly early alarm clock that forces me to drag not only myself, but beautiful, peacefully sleeping children out of  a cozy bed, and the worst of all: making school lunches (i hated all of it the first time around when i went). and it really was perfectly fitting that it poured on the first day and my older daughter’s bus came 15 minutes early prompting us to miss it while asshat was in tow (i can only imagine The Bad Mother rants that were burning the cell towers that day).

of course, there are a few things i won’t miss at all – like the endless mounds of public cellulite and man boobs i have been forced to witness since the first warm day, armpits that needed to be shaved, people far too comfortable with partial public nudity that shouldn’t be, mosquitoes preferring to eat me alive over any other entree on the human buffet table anytime i ventured outdoors, noisy lawn mowers waking me up at 6:30am on weekends, the endless quest to find an answer to “but what are we doing today,” sand in every crevice of my person and home, and that awful, haunting, pavlovian melody from the ice cream truck. and it is kind of nice to be out and about now in the solitude of the spawn-free stores and to luxuriate in the quietude of a gym now mostly emptied of tight and tempting 20 yr old collegiate bodies.

and like any student returning to academia, i am forced to take stock of what i have done this summer, reflect, and summarize:

1. i learned the art of impulse control and gave up random sex and booze…for the most part. oh sure, i had several relapses, and at one point, i replaced both with the obsessive acquisition of blinged out droid covers, but a girl’s got to have something.

2. i got really tan for the first time in 19 years, although that was generally up for debate unless i was naked and had a tan-line witness, which was hard to come by as per #1.

3. i read an entire book for the first time since my children learned how to crawl. it was a fluff read, but it counts.

4. i honed my handy woman skills in my new place and did not have to call The Guy…more than twice.

5. i finally got my car in the garage for the first time since moving in may. it was time  – the neighbors had begun tracking my one night stands. they say its a vicarious sort of thing, but i suspect there are bookies and vigs involved at this point. and of course, my gf has now started a pool for how soon the side view mirrors will be desecrated (that reminds me – i really have to look in the hoa manual to see if repairing the sides of the garage is my responsibility).

6. i made lots of new pals, my absolute fav being the husband of my ex-husband’s girlfriend. (oh, fo shizzle! i couldn’t make that shit up. no worries, this will eventually get it’s own post. it’s so deliciously, perfectly ironic; oh, and the fact that she is not a fembot, but a real live woman, is fascinating to boot..)

7. i saw The Nerds twice. it was fun of monumental proportions which included air brushed tattoos that did not come off as easily as promised.

8. i partied thrice like i was in college on spring break. it was a like a katey perry song: i barfed in the bar, lost an earring in the toilet, suffered a 14 hour hangover with a weiner dog by my side to nurse me back to sobriety, walked home in bare feet with a bunch of friends, walked home alone again  at 3 am another time because gf #1 was so trashed she had to be taken home by gf #2 and i was in the midst of possibly bagging a great catch (the latter still remains to be determined as per the walking home alone at 3 am part).

9. i banded together a slew of hot new hussies with whom to go out and wreck havoc for many summers to come.

10. i blew off my summer employ for the last 3 weeks of summer  to hang with my kids and then successfully whined my way into a new position at the same company. by the way, they do things there that involve very, very smart people and i feel like Penny from The Big Bang Theory. (come to think of it, i could i use a big bang right about now.)

11. i broke my bed (sadly, not in a fun way), but finally got rid of the last symbolic vestige of A Failed Marriage. that was the best garbage day ever.

12. i worked out with great dedication, went through 3 trainers, and reduced the muffin top to a mini-muffin, lessened the protective layer of back fat, and started to see the beginnings of some muscle definition, though mostly in my camel toe.

13. i went on a family vacation to Lake George and learned 3 things: 1. i am more of a lay on the beach, bring me drinks kind of a girl (ok, well i knew that already), and less of a rugged mountain mama (ok, i knew that too). 2. i should not travel with those that share 50% DNA with me for an extended period of time – like over 60 minutes. and especially not in a car. in summer traffic (this, i suspected). 3. Lake Geo is the White Trash vacation capital of the east coast (this, i should have suspected).

14. i switched my gas and electric supplier just because we can do that now. i will probably save all of .03 cents. but why not?

15. i finally got an almost 11 year old to sleep alone without the almost 8 year old in her bed, only to gain an almost 8 year old in my once solitary berth.

16. i have come to the sad, but necessary conclusion that no human male can compete with a 12 speed shower head. should i ever actually find such a man, i will marry him. but that is the only circumstance under which i will ever marry again.

this summer was perfect. it was all i wanted it to be. it began with the suevolution ™, evolved to the newsuera (tm), and has come to the the land of Walk the Talk and face the mountain of shit i’ve been putting off because it is now After The Summer. things like starting a career worthy of my oft touted, self proclaimed, but little used brains, working on all the unfinished business i was ultimately hoping to completely avoid (surely, said business realizes he can’t run from me forever), try to build the SWV empire and make all of this crazy shit i write down into an actual thing i do for a living, tackle a to do list of epic proportions, start writing My Book (and the mere notion that i am interesting enough to fill a book is such a pompous one), and sit down for this one, dear readers: focus on meeting a suitable companion. yes, a male. a human male! (i’m hoping in the near future to say see #8…but its too sketchy to tell at this point.)

so here i sit, planning my future, plotting to take over the world. or at least the innerwebs…

 

i can’t build my empire without you and your big mouth: please like me on facebook. please follow me on twitter. and please tell anybody else who will listen to do the same!

 

 

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seriously, folks / the suevolution(tm) — 3 comments
09
Aug 11

selah


so the Summer of Sue is more than half way through according to my calculations. and while it is slipping away from me at a terrifying pace, i have been quite successful in my goal to float effortlessly along the timeline while cozily blanketed by the stifling new jersey humidity. truly enjoying the freedom of coming and going as i please, watching too much tv in bed while eating salty snacks (is there anything better that 9 bucks a month for netflix unlimited streaming accompanied by a bag of baked lays?), being queen of my castle, popping on and off the grid at my whim, and just plain enjoying the sun despite that nagging voice that warns me of skin cancer, or worse – wrinkles (i know, mom). oh sure, there are bills to consider while being barely employed, children to care for, and the ups and downs of owning a cat with claws- very, very sharp claws. but all this freedom has allowed me to do a lot of soul searching, as was the exact plan, so let me share some of the refuse that inhabits the internal garbage dump of my mind thus far in the suevolutionary trail at the risk of “using too many words” for some of you (yes, that was an actual critique of my work or maybe said critic’s elementary school reading teacher).

1. it’s my life

so far turning the dreaded 4-0 has been quite freeing in a way: while i still have no idea how i got this old this quickly, i have to come to realize that i have literally been asleep at the wheel for all this time and i will be damned if i will let the rest of my life slide by while i am in a coma. i am halfway through my life (if i am lucky – and of the time left, who knows for how long i will be healthy and actually lucid. the latter being questionable now). with that realization, came a liberation: i’m forty dammit! and i am doing what i want to do when i want to do it. obviously, i have young children to nurture and certain inescapable responsibilities to consider, but anything other than that which i deemed to be extraneous bullshit in my life has been abandoned. this includes relationships i no longer want to be in – be it friend or lover, tuning out the constant barrage of “news” about everything i enjoy causing cancer at some point (just being alive is slowly killing all of us), no longer worrying what others think of me (well, like 94% of the time), hiding from the seemingly hopeless state of the world we live in, refusing to do things i don’t want to do, and just generally finally learning to live for myself and not those awful nagging voices in my head that tell me how i should live. and it feels good! i refuse to take crap from anybody ever again. i’m not out to hurt people’s feelings needlessly, but, unfortunately, it’s inevitable. and while i am beginning to figure out how to be more diplomatic (and sometimes just plain manipulative – for the greater good of course), i just can’t be pushed around anymore these days (ask the little twerp at verizon who gave me lip when my two month old phone died). i am a believer of science which points to the fact that i only get one life and it’s mine. this isn’t a dress rehearsal and i don’t owe anybody an explanation for my choices. while, i do realize i may end up old, crotchety, and very, extremely, alone in front of my tv with no one but a callus home health aide to change my depends, i will just have to cross that diaper when i come to it.

2. i’m perfectly lonely

i have learned that relationships are just plain difficult no matter with whom; and while you can learn to better navigate them, there is not much Dr. Phil can ever do to change that truth. family relationships are extremely complicated and full of mixed feelings (read: guilt) and unspoken obligations that bind you to them. friendships with women are exhausting because the mind games and drama with them that started as young girls in the elementary school lunchroom continues into adulthood. it takes different forms, but it’s there, it never fucking ends, and i am just plain tired of it. i mean, only women can have “frenemies“  for god’s sake. relationships with men, are, well, relationships with men, but i’m  just going to save my Men Are Simply An Unevolved Sub-Species and Men and Women Don’t Really Belong Together rants for another post. and that being said, at forty i have also completely lost patience for people, in general. i don’t want to be bothered with all the crap that comes along with relationships of any kind and for god’s sake i can’t take all of the worrying about feelings anymore. ugh. i don’t want to talk anymore. i don’t want to work on it either. i really don’t give a shit how anybody’s day was and i can’t be bothered to even pretend i do anymore. it is possible i am turning into a huge c**t, but i just don’t care because i have never felt so fucking free in my life.

3. why don’t i just steal away?

sometimes, i think if it weren’t for my kids, i could easily drop out of conventional society and go live out the rest of my life on some remote island with no cell towers or internet, no gyms, no malls, no cars and very few people. a utopia where i would never have to suck my gut in again or worry about the ever increasing cottage cheese on my nether regions. where the only exercise i get is not from a hamster wheel at a gym and iron weights, but building muscles from the actual manual labor and physicality it takes to just survive. where vitamins don’t come from bottles, but from food i have grown. a beautiful, tropical place where i am free of caring about how shitty my hair looks in humidity. i do ponder it a lot- living a life that is free of being tethered to my cell phone and accountable for my every fleeting second (though, when i see how insane being without a phone for four days had made me, i rethink that whole thing). living a life free of facebook and all “social media.” back in a time when privacy was a concept that actually existed. when relationships (as much as i now dislike them) were real. when TMI was a real thing and i didn’t have to know that someone i once had a locker nearby 25 years ago had tuna fish at panerra’s for lunch today (and for the love of god, stop telling us where you have checked in every two minutes. only your stalker cares.). freedom from judging and being judged. maybe i will follow some suckass band with filthy strangers picked up along the way, packed into a yellow VW bus, trading hemp bracelets for my next meal. but let’s be real, i can’t deal with staying at a motel 6 for one night let alone some feculent farm in a third world village. but a girl can dream.

4. muddy waters

during most of my life, i eternally suffered from a grass is greener situation – that whatever i was doing, i thought the opposite would be better (with the clear exception of being married again – please, i am not a moron!) and now i have enough experience in life to know that the grass isn’t greener – it’s generally muddy with weeds and green patches and some flowers thrown in on both sides of the fence. as a very black and white thinking person, that is the gray area in which i now strive to live. and that gray area is being human (which i have come to think is a curse of sorts since we are mostly prisoners to all of our human trappings; but that is another rant entirely). some think that happiness and peace are fleeting moments – so you grab what you can when you can. which i do think has some merit as my calligulous lifestyle of late will attest. but i ultimately strive for happiness as a general state of being with an awareness that some inevitable crappy times will be thrown in. that is what my whole struggle has been about – taking any chance to live happily and peacefully, as i see it for me. and, really, each individual has to figure how that looks for her and try to be brave enough to live it.

5. i will forget about you

after a long and awful divorce preceded by a long and awful marriage, the sudden death of my father, the sudden wife of the man whom i thought was to ultimately become my real soulmate, and a bevy of botched breakups, i have learned, that with the exception of very few people (like my children. duh!) i can walk away from most anybody or anything and not look back. sometimes it’s easier than others. sometimes i may glance over my shoulder and retreat briefly for more abuse (always voluntarily: see failed soulmate above), but there really is not much i am attached to anymore. be it a person or thing. i have become sort of blase about so many things now. the feeling of the futility of all this self imposed human bullshit overpowers me at times. most likely, it’s just a defense mechanism of sorts – because everything during my marriage that was supposed to be fun and happy was frought with difficulty and disappointment that i just can’t bear to be let down anymore. the firsts are gone no matter what i do the second time around. and truthfully, i am still kind of angry they were taken from me. the aftermath of making poor major life choices has worn me down. and, of course, it follows that losing the only two men in my life (dad and prospective soul mate) who ever really got me makes it difficult for me to risk an encore of exposing myself to the possibility of disappointment by another human being. how will i ever completely open myself up to someone again? one more huge let-down and i fear i will be destroyed. though i am tough and strong, i do have my limits. so, now being closed off to that possibility is just a way of self preservation. and hopefully, the passage of enough time combined with the right person coming along one day will change that.

6. friends. how many of us have them?

whom you choose to surround yourself with is very important. there are some people who bring out the absolute best in me no matter what the situation (again: see failed soulmate @ 5). people who truly get me, accept me, and don’t want to change a single thing about me. people, when i am with them, allow me to truly love myself as a person. conversely, there are those i don’t like who i am when i am around them and find myself wanting to redecorate their personalities. my interactions with them are full of negativity and leave me feeling so much less than i really am. from now on, i choose to be around the former: people that encourage me to be better and to follow my path while right beside me no matter how far down some dark alleys it may take me. people who realize i have to find my own way even if they have to cringe at what they see me doing along that way (you know who you are). which brings me to:

7. growin’ up

party girl sue has been placed on a mandatory leave of absence for an undetermined amount of time after two straws that broke the camel’s toe:

1. last month, aunt flo decided to visit a week late, something she has never done before, which prompted great hysteria and chants of “im too fucking old for this bullshit!” effectively killing casual sex for me completely.

2. a recent hangover which left me for dead on a friend’s couch for twelve hours and required a 2.5 day recovery which prompted more chants of, “i’m too fucking old for this bullshit,” accompanied by the more predictable chants of, “i’m never drinking again! i mean it this time!” so, i may have to rename myself single without vodka because this liver has been wrung out and clipped to the clothesline to dry.

it’s been enough of being wild and rebellious. gggb and i had a good run for a few years and it was fun. but i am confident that i’m not missing anything Out There. i’m finally over It. so, you can all exhale now, girls. i’m cured.  and, right on schedule for my winter hibernation ritual (no worries – i still have many juicy stories to share, because, sadly, i have not yet learned the value of my own privacy.)

8. you can’t hurry love

or anything else for that matter. my hugest life lesson is trying to master patience. i have never been a patient person. ever. my lack of patience accounts for why i get too deep into relationships too fast, become bffs with manipulating bitches too quickly, get frustrated with my kids too easily, don’t set proper boundaries with people, make impulsive, snap decisions, hire shitty contractors, spend too much money on things, and fake orgasms. i despise research. i hate shopping around and negotiating. i hate to wait for anything. i want it now! i don’t want to take the time to let things develop properly and slowly the way any relationship, major purchase, or orgasm needs to (if i don’t have patience of any kind, it follows that i certainly haven’t had the patience to let someone find The Spot when my shower head is ten feet away- hence the faking. but no more of that!). like many others disgusted with the continued bullshit of dating we thought we left behind in our 20′s, i said, “i don’t want to play games anymore.” i’m just going to cut through all of the beginning bs and go for it. but i realized, it’s not playing games, it’s just letting the dance between two people play out. you have to take your time to know who and what is right for you. rushing into things only leads to a sticky situation from which you will most likely have to extricate yourself. and someone always gets hurt that way. this applies to all relationships (i just can’t seem to get away from that dreaded R word). and i don’t want to do any of that anymore. for me, finally learning patience will enable me to make better decisions all around for act two of this deranged show that is my life.

9. bad decisions. that’s alright.

i’m certainly not proud of some of the things i’ve done, but contrary to what you might think, i don’t really regret them. i look back at some of it and am now convinced i must have been temporarily insane at the time (the ex-husband certainly claimed so), but it was a path i needed to walk. and all of those “experiences” served some kind of purpose. some were liberating and self-affirming, but most were hard lessons learned. and since i just can’t get into in mr. peabody and simon’s time machine, maybe, it’s time to stop beating myself up and move on. maybe i did the best i could at the time with the set of circumstances i was given. and if i hadn’t finally learned who i really am and what i now really want as a result of those lunatic episodes, then i would say it was a waste of time. but it wasn’t, because i have more clarity than ever. and maybe it’s just time to pick myself up, dust myself off, put on another layer of deodorant and go on with the life i want to create for myself now. maybe, it’s finally time to forgive myself for all those shitty decisions i have made and just live the second half better and completely consciously.

10. relax. don’t do it.

a very wise gf of mine says “selah” to me when she sees me getting anxious and impatient. which is often. it’s a hebrew word meaning: pause and reflect, rest. i am going to have it embroidered on a pillow and use it as my mantra. just sit back, do things when i’m ready. really think before my next big move. take my time. remember there is nothing that i can’t face, handle, and come out of swinging. stop pressuring myself so much. be nice to myself. change the voices in my head. and let nature take its course because it will all work out in the end one way or another.

selah.

 

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ponderings of a mad woman / rants — 6 comments
21
Jun 11

susie wonders

how many times is it necessary to stomp on a stinging thing that should be cleared for takeoff by the FAA while wearing a 5″ platform shoe before you can be sure its dead after already killing it with a magazine? i thought 49.

why do the stall doors always open into a 2 x 3 space wedging you in between the toilet and the door in the most disgusting bathrooms?

why can’t we improve caulk technology? i caulked my bathroom shower (and i am proud to say i did a roundly less schlocky job than the original application) before reading that i couldn’t use the shower for 48 hours. so we all know how that turned out.

i have this recurring, really stressful dream about having to gather my stuff to bring somewhere else quickly for some unclear reason and i just can’t seem to do it in the time allotted. do you think people in non-materialistic third world countries where they have nothing have this dream too?

why is kesha so obsessed with glitter?

not that i am in a rush to reach it, but do you think there will still be acne after menopause? or will there be senior clearasil? and if so, will i get an AARP discount for buying it? will have to mix zit cream in with my anti-aging cream?

where do people from manhattan get buried when they die? do they realize that they will have to be sent to new jersey, the very place they abhor the most, for eternity? serves you right, haters.

and won’t we run out of room for cemeteries eventually?

and also for our garbage – won’t we run out of space for it? when i think of all the waste i make in one day as one person and multiply that by zillions of people, i can’t imagine there is enough room for all of it. and i then i think about the hospital waste alone and all the tons of disgusting stuff they throw out. it makes my head hurt. why are we so wasteful? and then i wonder, have i already ranted about this exact thing before?

i wonder about outer space and if nothing existed at all: no planets, no stars, no black holes, no meteors, no stars, wouldn’t there still have to be something there, like a blank piece of paper? can there really be complete nothingness? wouldn’t there always have to be something? wouldn’t that “paper” have to have been on a surface at one point if it wasn’t there either? and if space is infinite, that means there is no end or beginning which means there are no perimeters. how is that possible? that gives me a migraine and explains why i got a D in intro to astronomy.

and when you wish upon a star, does it really make no difference where you are?

all that “checking in” to places on facebook where people are asking to be stalked, what am i supposed to do with all that information? “oh, she’s at The Yogurt Barn right now? let us go, tonto, post haste!

how can there always be new music? that amazes me. so much has already been written yet people keep coming up with new tunes. albeit much of it sucks, but still.

does my daughter have any idea how insane it makes me when she voluntarily watches commercial on a dvr’d show? does she know how many people suffered for that technology to become a reality?

my neighbor gives clothes to our other neighbor who then sends them to china. do they not realize the irony of this? it’s like the circle of life.

did the school office staff realize i was wearing a t-shirt that said “little miss late” as i was signing my kids in after the bell rang?

how many times is disney going to make the same movie with the soup du jour “stars” and when will my kids figure this out so i can stop being tortured needlessly?

you know what i really miss about college and high school, besides the binge drinking and ensuing random hook-ups? the house parties. i loved those. why cant we have those now?

one time i went to the liquor store and not only was the sobriety of the dude who was obviously hired as someone’s favor, in question, but he was openly picking his teeth with a giant dental pick while making recommendations (like i would take then anyway). when i told him he had to stop doing that he looked at me like i was the problem. lead to me wonder how can some people lack any self-awareness whatsoever?

i wonder, is it me, or are the americans on hgtv’s house hunters international, the most pretentious, pompous assholes upon which you have ever laid eyes? (other than my ex husband and his family of course.)

there is a salon i used to pass daily called, Valina Day Spa. do they realize they are just one letter off?  do they know the visual i get every time i drive by it? surely i can’t be the only one. do you think this is on purpose? subliminal advertising? come to think of it, my Valina could use a trip to the spa…

if The Simpsons have been on for over 20 years, why do i keep seeing the same 10 episodes?

what if animals talked just like we do? things would be totally different. you wouldn’t have pets, so much as roommates. then when you said,”he lives like an animal,” it would be true. we certainly wouldn’t be eating them, using them as unpaid labor, entertainers, or athletes. we would have to give horses a cut for racing and roosters a purse for prize fighting. and there would be a whole other kind of racism that would spawn even more political correctness – you couldn’t say “he eats like a pig” without backlash. they would be able to form their own communities and cable channels. they wouldn’t be wild, but homeless and there would be no such thing as the pet food aisle or pet stores, just items marketed to them directly and adoption agencies. lawyers that specialized in animal adoptions. it would be up to them to get their own birth control and we cut off welfare at the first litter. and what about international policy with other animal nations? what would the universal language be? oinking or meowing? we would need animal to human translators. imagine what the UN would look like… orrrr, maybe it would all be reversed where we would be the pets and at the bottom of the food chain. actually, i guess planet of the apes and family guy addressed this already. well, if they could talk, i would love to tell my cat to stop being such as asshole or at the very least get a security deposit from him. now he’s like the dry cleaners, where they suddenly don’t speak english when they fuck my shit up.

is anyone else sick of the fucking magnet “ribbons’” people have on their cars and the morons that put them sideways like jesus fish? isn’t it enough already with these things? i care about as much about what you support with bumper magnets as i do about your kid being on the honor roll at Jack Off Middle School. or are you one of those people?

do you think at some point, you will just let it all go? the endless dieting and maintaining the looks? the caring what you wear and what others think of you?  i was at a party several years ago where a 70 year old turned down delicious cookies because they were was “fattening.” when do you decide you have lived ling enough to stop worrying about all that bullshit?

i have realized than when you date someone you are also dating their car. you have to take a long hard look in the mirror and ask yourself,  can i be seen in a yellow miata for the rest of my time? am i willing to ride shotgun in a saturn? can i really break up with this sweet bimmer? and after that, you have to look at how someone keeps said car. If it’s messy, chances are they are a childish slob. If you are not allowed to bring your coffee in with you, chances are you have a giant control freak on your hands. if it’s tricked out, you may be dating a teenager and if they have bumper stickers, do you really want to ever see them again?

 

we can do better than 243 fans on facebook!

 

 

 

 

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