November, 2010


21
Nov 10

FFIP

it’s hard to date just one person, and as yvette says: “it ain’t cheatin’, if you’re just eatin’…”  i assume this applies to “beatin’ ” as well?

what is this business of getting to know each other before having sex? that is absolutely ridiculous – if the sex is bad, there is absolutely nothing else i need to know.

my old college buddy, miller, has now dubbed me, “surly with vodka.” as long as there is vodka, i don’t care what you call me.

things are moving kind of quickly with The BFFN (The Boyfriend For Now) and i have to tell you that i am really excited to get to that part of the relationship where i have to shower less…

we have decided to be exclusive – we don’t want to date any other couples.

he loves to pet my pussy – i’m really starting to become jealous of that cat…

the other day was National Smokeout Day. i think i may have misconstrued the meaning – turns out it was cigarettes, not pole.

the tightness of the pants i wear on a date depends on how quickly i plan to be out of them.

i’m not on west coast, central mountain, or eastern time. i’m on BCT: Booty Call Time.

Adam: “so, what are you going to wear on your date tonight?”

me: “something easy to slip out of.”

Adam: “are you planning on having sex?”

me: “do you have to ask?”

the new relationship is going so well – my only concern is the challenge it presents to my cynicism…

i have found BFFN’s fatal flaw: he snores deeply enough to suck small planets out of orbit.

BFFN asked me to promise not to fake the orgasms and i agreed as long as he promised to give me the reasons not to.

bumper sticker: have toothbrush, will travel.

i think the alarm clock could be improved by replacing The Snooze Button with a Morning Sex Button.

BFFN: “so, what kind of wine do you like?”

me: “cheap. like me.

when people tell me to “behave” or not to “work too hard,” i just laugh – those are two things i never do.

BFFN: “my friend sent me pictures of his wife naked.”

me: “omg. what an asshole. let me see.

before we go out, my friends tell me to keep my pants on and i admonish them not to.

it was friday night, and all across the land, bootay was being had. the queen was pleased.

BFFN: “you are the horniest girl ever.”

me: “thank you.”

since i have 2 girls, i am fascinated by my new nephews’ little wangs – its the only time tiny penises are adorable.

there is a cliched poster female co-eds like to hang in their dorm rooms – the one with the gorgeous man holding the tiny baby in the palm of his hand. now, this is where they have it all wrong – make it a balding, overweight, middle aged guy who never hears the baby crying at night and maybe we won’t have to suffer through the palins or shows like 16 and pregnant anymore.

mikey w: “i used to date a girl who liked me to cum on her face so she could rub it in – it’s good for the skin you know.”

me: “i’ll just stick with Oil of Olay.”

my pussy is so well groomed – i brush him every day and clip his claws every week.

me: “i’ll bring the booze. do you want cheap vodka or cheap wine?”

dana: “things seemed to be going so well. i don’t understand what happened.”

me: “he must have met someone else.”

dana: “or, he didn’t like how my vagina tasted.”

me: “well, that is always a possibility.”

i love car seat warmers – they provide all of the pleasant warmth of peeing in your pants with none of the wetness.

my pussy is so clean – he is always licking himself.

i was texting with my sister and mikey w. at the same time: the first convo involved giving motherly advice about the new babies, the second was a discussion of our sexual conquests in great detail. i just loved the irony of Parallel Textersations.

BFFN: “did you want to have sex?”

me: “well duh, of course i do, but what made you ask?”

BFFN: “well, you came back from the bathroom holding your belt & your pants are unbuttoned.”

hope was worried her date wouldn’t like the fact that her nail polish was chipped. i told her not to worry about it unless she was going out with a gay guy.

mikey w.: “who the fuck knows.”

me: “no one. so just fuck who you know.”

i’m really into the new bf, so i don’t want to date anyone else, but i do normally like to keep my options open, and by options, i mean legs.

i am going to market a new line of Do Not Disturb/Housekeeping hangers for the door that are more honest. one side will say FFIP: Fuck Fest In Progress. the other side will say, Caution: Wet Sheets.

BFFN: “you have to get off me – i really have to go now & get ready for that wedding today.”

me: “call in sick.”

the only time i condone the use of marijuana is for purely medicinal reasons – like before sex.

you should always visit a guy’s place before becoming too involved with him- it’s very important to see him in his natural habitat.

the beginning of a relationship is always so wonderful – the getting to know one another, the mind-blowing sex, the falling in love much too quickly, the trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with each other and when it’s all going to go to shit…

when we go on dates, women generally operate with the knowledge that the dude most likely only just wants to fuck us – any chick over 30 who doesn’t realize that is a moron or amish.

fuck that mars, venus bullshit.  i think it’s more like oil & water: with enough agitation, you can get them to mix well together briefly, but no matter what, they always end up separating completely.

i pride myself on being the sanest one over a wide demographic of crazy friends, proving once again, that sanity is all relative.

ever hear of the wolf in sheep’s clothing? well i think i may be a dude in chick’s clothing…

you’re allergic to my cat so you can’t ever come over to my place? that is puuurrrrfect.

i like to go to the guy’s place – let him clean up the aftermath of the crime scene i’m surely going to create in the bedroom…

having all of this technology while dating creates new ways to asses a match: for instance, i find it very important that there is Compatible Textiquette. i think there should be a category on the profile called Text Preferences, because a mismatch in that area can be a total deal breaker. you would mark like desired frequency, preferred response time, and how just soon filthy texts can be sent…

on the subject of texting though, too much of it before you actually meet gives you false sense of knowing the person and feeling comfortable with him which normally leads to major disappointment in the real life meeting. although, i have had great Text Chemistry with many guys prior to meeting them, the excessive texting did not reveal the growth on the neck that should be looked at immediately, the hairy arm that was suggestive of a recessive werewolf gene, the bad breath that could not be cured with even a stick of minty gum, the nervous tics that had me running into the rest room hoping for a window to jump out of, the ripped dirty sweatpants, the rent-a-wreck he came in, the bad manners, the fact he hasn’t showered since his last date,  or the fact that someone else had to be writing for him because the real life person was lacking any wit or personality. you gotta be careful with your virtuality – it’s an e-jungle out there.

i decide if i will sleep with a guy the minute i meet him by assessing if i can drink him fuckable.

i just hate to leave my pussy alone all night – i think i’m gonna have to start bringing him with me.

BFFN after checking out my laundry room: “i have to bring some laundry over, you have big machines.”

me: “i do have big machines. just make sure you bring some quarters for my slot.”

can u imagine how creepy you would be if you actually winked as much in real life as you do in texts? ;-)

i was razzing BFFN about not wanting to go see him in his White Trash Apartment and he told me i had to go to the jungle to get ravished. apparently, me: jane, he: horny.

me referring to the kitten: “look, my pussy is excited to see you.”

BFFN: “so, what’s new?”

we have only been dating a week but it feels so much longer. a quick, cursory review might reveal why: we saw each other 5 out of 7 days, i have done inappropriate things to him in his apartment with clearly, no regard for his children sleeping in the next room, i demanded that he quit smoking on the first date, i agreed to go with him to his family’s thanksgiving dinner and meet his entire family (not shockingly, i was given the caveat to behave), we have watched 4 movies and exchanged toothbrushes & contact lens cases, and he did the pleasantly surprising & unexpected I Brought You Coffee Drop-By (he already knows how i like my coffee – Giant Skim Latte. STAT!), and i committed a hit and run in his building’s parking lot while leaving at 1 am the other night (oh whatever, it was just a tap that’s what bumpers are for). in week 2 he will come to my place so he can hit my neighbors’ cars and then we’ll probably knock over a bank and flee to mexico.

look i gave him head start and warned him to run as far away as fast as he could – you know men never listen.

i say: slack hard or not at all!

the next time i get invited to a wedding, i have the perfect gift: the name of my divorce lawyer.

BFFN: “we can’t fool around when you come over, my kids will be asleep in the next room.”

me: “what kind of horrible, slut do you think i am?”

BFFN: “the worst kind. “

me: “that is so sweet – you already know me so well”


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17
Nov 10

dela- where?

i left the bar alone last night, but it’s okay, because i rubbed heartily against a lot of dudes on my way out.

ugly people grinding on the dance floor is like a car wreck – i just can’t not watch.

a guy i once dated told me that he thinks it’s important that i still go out with the girls and have fun. i agreed, except by girls, i meant other men, and by fun, i meant sex with them.

my earring fell out into my lap during dinner -thank god my camel toe caught it.

i want to be more disciplined, but i lack the will power to do anything about it.

i was at a bar with 3 other divorced chicks where there was a bachelorette party in progress – we bought that bitch a drink and made a pact not to spoil the ending.

no matter how much i do in a free weekend,  if i don’t have sex, it just seems wasted.

i was out at a packed club the other night and i knew i was comfortable with my age when i decided i would rather go home than wait on line to pee… ever again.

there is laziness & complete slothdom. lazy is sitting on the couch in front of the tv all day. sloth is not wanting to get up off the couch to get laid.

my new friend, tania, summed up the appeal of 20 year olds: they are shiny on the outside.

i once dated a guy who was as hot as he was dumb -he asked me what state delaware was in. i was forced to break up with him immediately.

so, i’m now dating man who told me he won’t date women that don’t drink. sigh, i think he could be The One.

turning the clocks back gave me an extra hour to get to the liquor store.

dana: “what’s that smell?”

me: “i don’t smell anything.”

dana: “did you fart?”

me: “no. i always tell you. besides i wouldn’t do that in a restaurant!”

dana: “yes, you would! who are you kidding?”

me: “true.”

i think the fact that it’s nearly impossible to get a cork back in a bottle of wine means you’re supposed to just drink the whole damn thing.

driving home the other night, i found myself behind an ambulance. this, in of itself, is not so unusual, what was strange was that the “cabin light” was on & i could clearly see the occupant. i was literally making eye contact with some dude on a stretcher while the attendant sat behind him reading  a magazine. try as i might, traffic would not permit my escape from behind it. it was quite uncomfortable to say the least, but i was grateful to be on the outside looking in for once.

guys always want to know, “what is your favorite position?” duh, watching tv on the couch with a drink.

women say they appreciate a man who doesn’t try to have sex with them on the first date. quite frankly, i would find it to be an insult if he didn’t at least offer.

it turns out, it wasn’t just the ex – i really don’t give a shit how anybody’s day was.

remember how your parents always said that they didn’t have a favorite? well, that was complete bullshit.

i love a man in uniform, so i was looking forward to a date with a guy that used to be in the military, but it turned out he was in the navy. of all the uniforms, that one is not remotely sexy unless you are a gay man and into the village people. in fact, if should things progress, i requested that he never put it on for me.

how do you tell someone politely that you are way out of their league?

i like that the advice my friends give me when i go on first dates is not, “have fun,” or “be careful,”  – it’s “keep your pants on this time.”

do you think the irony of consumer reports how to clean anything, how clean is your house?, the queen of clean’s cleaning guide, good housekeeping’s stain rescue, & the  field guide to stains, sitting on the dusty bookshelf in the laundry room is lost on my cleaning women?

what kind of woman doesn’t wear underwear on a first date? the fun kind.

texting can be a great way to get to know someone initially, but i have realized the hard way, you can’t smell bad breath via cell phone even if it is a full qwerty

there are different types of cleavage women employ according to the occasion: Business/Work cleavage which just barely hints at sexiness and may land you that promotion or help you finally close that big deal, School Cleavage which is very minimal unless you want to sleep with the teacher, Date Cleavage which is practically necessary and self explanatory, and Seeing My Divorce Lawyer Full-On Erin Brockovich Cleavage which is wildly inappropriate and never actually does get the bill reduced – but, hey, a sista gotta try.

three shows i currently dvr which are fast becoming faves: the new adventures of old christine, 30 rock, and two and a half men – all shows about people who sleep around, drink too much and don’t give a shit.

i’m tired of my kids asking me to play with them – i don’t ask them to mix me drinks.

finding decent men to date isn’t hard – finding hard men that are decent is…

i try to be diplomatic when getting rid of men after a date or 2- just the other day i used the ol’ “It’s Not You, It’s Me” routine instead of telling him the real reason i never wanted to see him again – i suspected i have taken shits bigger than his penis.

why are all the right penises attached to the wrong men?

i’ve invented a sex substitute called “i can’t believe it’s not better.”

so, dana met this guy, but they didn’t really click – so she wanted to set me up with him – is it that tough to meet people out there that we need to recycle?

and speaking of meeting other people’s rejected dates – i have never really been a hand-me-down type of girl, do i want to start now? in this arena?

so, my new bf asked me to call him after i “put my kids down.” i told him i was putting them to bed, not taking them to the vet.

ladies, i don’t understand the concept of “waiting” to sleep with someone when you’re middle-aged. what the hell are you saving it for? you haven’t been a virgin for decades and what if the actual sex is terrible? then you wasted all of that time dating when you could have been sleeping with someone better.

in talking to someone new,  he wanted to know if i had any questions for him. i really only had one and it i told him there was only one way to find out…

i will do most anything if drinks will be served.

some days it is better to look clean than to be clean.

i think tonight is the night i finally solve the big mystery: boxers, briefs, or boxer briefs?

a friend characterized my last post as “somewhat sunny.” to be honest: i was slightly offended.

some women rate the worthiness of their  dates on the restaurant he choses, the conversation, the man’s manners, the car he drives, the perceived size of his wallet, and the like. i rate it based on whether of not i thought it was worth the makeup, contacts, and shaving my legs.

and while we are on that subject, many women will not shave their legs on a first date as a “sex preventative.” i have employed this tactic and i just ended up having sex with hairy legs…

it was just time to tell the kids: i’m not The Fun One.

new bumper stickers:

anything is possible…with alcohol.

all is fair in love and booty calls.

why are intelligence & looks generally inversely proportionate?

i woke up on the wrong side of the dick this morning…

is it wrong to ask a one night stand to take the trash out when he leaves?

sleepovers are greatly overrated: unless you’re making me breakfast or, at the very least, having me for it, i don’t need to see you in the morning.

conversation at work:

co-worker: “so where do you have sex with your dates? don’t tell me you do it in the car.”

me horrified. “never! i may be a slut but i am a classy slut.”

i have learned that younger men are just idiots in training.

so i went food shopping with my boss today. i’m sure it crosses some type of line but i doubt there is anything in the HR manual about it…

wow, i  have really grown as a person since i began dating – after my last few dates, i have realized i can’t just drink everyone fuckable as i previously thought. sigh, the end of an era…

my co-worker gave me some fabulous clothes that no longer fit her, for which i was most grateful; and i can’t tell you what an absolute boost to the ego it is to fit into someone else’s fat pants.

one of the benefits of dating beneath you, is that the dude immediately realizes he has hit the jackpot, hangs on for dear life, and worships you blindly.

i don’t want the upper hand in a relationship – i just want a stiff dick.

i always answer the door holding my pussy – well, he is an indoor cat. come to think of it, so is mine…

in this life you get what you give. i give a lot of blow jobs.

“lick me, stick me, and go home.” i doubt this is my original material but i’m having it needle-pointed on a sampler to hang over my bed.

most men are surprised at how welcoming, soft, & friendly my pussy is. you know, he really is a great cat.

and if my pussy likes you – you’re in..literally – animals are great judges of character.

it was going to be our third date and the dude had to work late so i told him to just come to my place for a drink. but i wondered, what does one wear to a date in her family room? that is normally where i am taking my clothes off.

people think i am so much more interested in them than i really am – i can’t help it, i get to talking, and my natural bullshit gene kicks in.

gaydar is nice, but i have laydar. i  can always spot the sure thing as soon as i walk into a room. of course, usually it’s me.

i’m really over the showering together thing unless he’s going to clean it afterward.

i drink a lot of those enriched waters to be healthy – my favorite is the vodka flavored…

i decided to keep my pants on tonight…i am so ashamed.

you can drop by anytime, but there is a two fuck minimum before you leave.

the sex with my new bf is so good, we don’t need a towel to mop up the wet spot- we need a wet vac.

we have decided to base our relationship on lies – to other people.

i will fuck you silly and let you completely violate me on the first date – but i absolutely draw the line at being friends on facebook.

if i’m not ready when my date comes to pick me up, i tell him to just hang out on the couch and play with my pussy  – the kitten never gets tired of it and these pussy jokes certainly never get old.

hey dana, seriously, thank you. ;-)

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12
Nov 10

the suevolution ™

despite the fact that my period came early & i was utterly unprepared for the ensuing cramps that had me bent over my desk at work, i was in the most spectacular mood on tuesday. since i am normally so cranky, i had no idea why, but then i realized it was november 9th.

15 years ago, on november 9th, i donned a beautiful, borrowed white dress, allowed a “professional” make-up artiste to apply too much make-up to my innocent, young face, wore my hair piled high atop my head in gloriously huge jersey girl curls, ignored all the red flags i had so carefully buried, promised my father i wanted to go through with it despite his numerous assurances it wasn’t too late to back out, swallowed my doubts, and gladly began my walk down The Aisle which, in turn, led me down a path of unfulfilled promises & despair – yes folks, i got married. thanks to disney’s incessant barrage of evil propaganda aimed at young girls, it was all i ever dreamed of as a child & young woman- i never had any real intentions of having a career and actually making my way in life on my own. i was a sweet, but spoiled suburban princess and i just wanted to get hitched, have babies, be a wife, a mommy, & live wealthfully ever after. and i thought i was going to do exactly all that, but early on, perhaps during the cocktail hour that he went to without me, or the reception during which he danced primarily with his mother (i hope they are very happy together now), or maybe it was during the brawling on the honeymoon, it became apparent i had made a huge mistake (oh, and the honeymoon was over, literally, after hitting that poor deer on the way home from the airport. omen, much?). i obviously hadn’t thought it all the way through. clearly, i had married the wrong man for me – sure he looked great on paper – nice jewish boy from a good family, smart, decent enough looking, had the potential to make a lot of clams, and truly seemed liked he would make a good bug handler, occasional diaper changer, burgler beater-upper, light bulb changer (still waiting on that one), & bill payer. sure, his idea of dressing up was the fancy tee shirt. sure, he wore high top velcro reeboks and liked terrible music he demanded i listen to, but i could change him right? and i had already invested 5 of my best firm bodied years on shaping & molding this lump of clay into what i thought was the perfect future. and i had absolutely no idea that what i thought was the truest of love was really just pathetic and desperate co-dependence.

fast forward through 12 lonely years of a marriage to an addict in which there was constant oppression, neglect, emotional abuse, physical intimidation, and general assholishness. it was a devastating death of my dreams & hopes for the future in which i learned i was considered merely a possession to be owned & controlled, bought & sold, and placed in a corner when not needed. then add another 2 years of a nasty, messy divorce (which is exactly how i always knew it would go down when the time came) and the birth of what my mother claims is an alcohol problem (mr. schmirnoff  & i disagree). the weight of my misery rendered me unrecognizable: i had become isolated and cut myself off from family & friends. i tried to throw myself into motherhood and running my home but it just wasn’t enough. i hated holidays and reunions and felt ragefully jealous of those around me whom i perceived to be happy. i refused to travel & go on vacations because it was all just such an unpleasant endeavor with an eternally miserable person. and i was soooooo wasteful during my marriage-  because i could be – money was all he gave me, because he wasn’t capable of love. so i would shop to fill the raw emptiness in my gut and then i would get rid of things on a whim without a thought as to future need (god, i wish i had half the stuff i gave away over the years or sold for 99 cents on ebay). i would knowingly spend way too much on one item thinking, “so there! take that, you asshole,” as i handed over the credit card. i led a desolate existence even thought there was so much abundance. but the thing is, i won’t miss any of it. of course, that’s not hard for me because i do have plenty of things from the marriage & i thank god i can tell you i won’t go hungry, but i just don’t care about any of the material possessions anymore. not the lexus, the 3500 square foot house, the vacations, the expensive meals (my mother used to insist i go out with him for Date Night & i would ask her why she wanted to punish me), the $200 pairs of jeans, diamonds, gold, or the money. because without a loving partner & happy family, none of it meant a damn thing to me – it all just became items with a resale value on ebay. i finally realized i did not have a price, i could not be bought! it was a feeling of empowerment i never had. and then The Asshat’s worst fear was realized -  he no longer had any control over me. and let’s face it, no one can control you unless you allow it.

you know, many single people think being with anyone is better than being alone, but there is nothing more lonely than being tethered to someone who could care less about you. who pays no attention to you, nor acknowledges you when you speak, or doesn’t even look up from what he is doing when you enter a room. someone who can’t even muster the effort to say hello or goodbye, pretend to laugh at a joke, give you one compliment, or show you a morsel of gratitude, or won’t even touch you. to be with someone who goes to concerts instead of spending holidays or your birthday with you and can’t be bothered to plan one evening out together to do somehting you like. someone who makes his disdain for your family clear to you and them, while also systematically alienating every friendship you ever had as a couple. i used to mark off each year that my anniversary passed as one more year of my life wasted in misery with a man who never truly loved me, but now i mark it as a day of freedom. beautiful, glorious, peaceful freedom. i can now celebrate is as the un-doing of a mistake, the un-niversary of  a poor choice.

a bad marriage is carried around like a terrible secret, a huge burden that is ultimately shouldered alone. the shame of the realization i was married to an addict and i was the enabler combined with the disappointment of the way my marriage turned out was unbearable. and while i was mired in that humiliation, my oppressor came very close to breaking me. nearly convincing me, i was the problem, i was crazy and i needed help. and i tried so hard to make it work, to suck it up until the girls went to college, but one day i realized i couldn’t do it anymore – i would just end up empty & used up, a mere shell of myself like the military wife in american beauty who sat at the table staring straight ahead at nothing, dead inside from a life of oppression at the hands of a dictator husband. worst of all, what if my girls followed in my footsteps and ended up in the same kind of marriage?  that was my greatest fear & the ultimate motivating factor to leave. but even near the end of the marriage, i still made insane attempts to stay & make myself happy. while clinging to the edge of the precipice desperately with only my fingernails, i did things i never thought i would to keep hanging on any way i could. i did fall into a chasm of delirium temporarily but, that “insanity” is what finally got me out and i haven’t regretted a single thing, not even for a moment. and when i finally did reach my breaking point where i just knew it was never going to change and i just didn’t care anymore and i was done talking about it and working on it, i finally was just over it and i knew i was finished, i somehow gathered the strength to say out loud that it was over. (i actually remember during the third & last round of marriage counseling, which is a big fucking joke, because once you are there it’s essentially too late, the utterly useless therapist asked me in a private session if i even wanted to save the marriage and without a moment’s hesitation, i answered with a  resounding no). ultimately though, he was the one to file first – i think he wanted to beat me to the punch. i was served with divorce papers at my home, in front of my children, within 48 hours of telling him i wanted a separation. and while marveling at the speed at which it happened, i couldn’t help but wonder if he had an attorney on retainer because he knew too, that i was finally done and the day was coming soon when i would tell him so. i walked upstairs to my bedroom, read the papers and the scathing accusations they contained in utter disbelief, cried for about 20 minutes and then felt glorious relief. it was finally over. i had struggled with the decision to leave for over 10 years and he had set me free! he did it for me! i felt gratitude wash over me as i prepared to walk away willingly from the comfort of a life with the only man i had been with for 15 years . i was ready to leave it all  just for the mere chance at happiness.

last year at this time, i was holed up in my guest room with my 2 girls at my side like a family of immigrants in some dysfunctional dorm room watching full house reruns. as we slept 3 across in my trundle bed (mommy in the crack, of course) behind a closed door, 10 feet down the hall lived a mentally ill, malevolent, pot smoking ogre who was prone to tantrums and fits inside a deadbolted lair from which the smell of “incense” continuously wafted. every night before drifting off into a vodka induced slumber, i would pray for the ogre’s untimely demise – perhaps a smoting by dragon or being eaten alive by a pack of transient wildebeasts, and for my incarceration to end. after living imprisoned in my own life for 12 years, i had to live through another 2 in a jail cell in my own home with a warden that tirelessly tried everything in his power to keep me on death row for eternity. he would stop at nothing to try to destroy me trying to take my money, my possessions, my children, my freedom, & my pride. and i summoned a courage and strength to fight him that i am sure he never imagined i could or would possess. he always undervalued and underestimated me and that became my greatest weapon in the War of The Asshats.

this past june 21st was my divorceiversary – the day i was truly emancipated thanks to a combined succession of 5 lawyers and a terribly lengthy, exasperating, & expensive legal process that finally forced the divorce’s end – the ogre would have let it go forever but was finally slain by my lawyer  (it’s no secret, that i have a huge crush on him). and i have never known a peace like this in my entire life. i had never lived so deliciously alone and been in complete control of everything in my life. after high school, i left my parents’ home for dorms and apartments with inconsiderate college roommates, i returned home to live with my parents after college where i manifested my 16 year old self again, after a year, i moved into an apartment with the aforementioned fucking jackass who said he wouldn’t marry me unless i did, and then i moved to my marital home. in my entire existence, i  was never free to run my own life, make my own decisions, have any say in the finances, or breathe without someone’s approval. so, you can see, how the simple acts of paying bills, leaving lights on when i chose and setting the thermostat to any degree i want are all pure heaven. my leftovers are there when i wake up the next day. i can leave my cell phone on the counter and it will be there when i return for it and it will be dry. i can leave my purse out and my cash will still be there when i open my wallet. i no longer have to try to get to my mail first or tote around a huge purse with my garage door opener, cell phone charger, jewelry, ipod, personal papers, and anything else i hoped to keep. i no longer flinch at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, share the dvr, or share anything for that matter. i don’t have to listen to music that makes my ears bleed (well, other than the jo-bros) or pretend to give a shit about someone’s day. oh, and the bed – it’s all mine. no one waking me up with their sleepless seismic activity or snoring loud enough to annoy corpses (oh, how often had i had fantasized about what i could do with a well placed pillow?). i never again to have to play personal assistant in a life of indentured servitude to an ungrateful moron. i don’t have to stroke an ego or look at anyone’s flab other than my own in disgust. i don’t have to find hairs on the floor, toothpaste globs mixed with shaving cream gunk in the sink, or petrified snot on the shower walls. i don’t have to hear someone hocking loogies in the kitchen garbage can or coughing up pot induced mucous from his lungs that i kept hoping would fail. in short, i don’t have to live with an absolute pig anymore. if there is dirt, it is my dirt, if there are dishes in the sink, they are my dishes, if there is an ass impression on the couch, is it on my couch from my ass (and we all know what a  great ass i do have). i now have a deep appreciation for life & the things that fill it in a way i never did. i live my life fully and enjoy every day as much as i am able. i laugh and feel a warped gratitude to The Asshat every single day for setting me free.

i certainly have no intentions of marrying again because i think marriage just ruins a perfectly good relationship, and i just can’t see how number 2 would turn out any differently. i hate other women’s husbands for them.  i joke a lot about being bitter, and sure, i probably am to some extent, but i have never been so happy in my life as i am now – not even as a child. i have finally found my voice, found out who i am, and most importantly found out i love sex… mostly with strangers… but seriously folks, in my mind, a life lived in quiet desperation, always settling, continuously wondering what could have been, dreaming of “someday,” isn’t one worth living. i have watched so many people become resigned to such a life -and i was almost a casualty of it myself -  and being too scared to fight for their own happiness. being a victim is a choice. next to wasted potential, this is one of the he saddest things to me- because you only get one shot at life, my friends, and it’s yours alone to spend as you wish. you are not a doormat for your spouse, friends, kids, boss, parents, or anybody. and i pity those who realize they are miserable yet never summon the strength do something about it. you are never stuck no matter how bad things may be and i believe you get out no matter the price. your happiness is priceless. ultimately, it’s a choice to stay in a bad situation because it’s easier not to change. change is hard and terrifying. and, i, of all people get that, because it took me 12 years to make that change and someone else ultimately had to pull the plug for me. but, there were so many times during the making of that change where it would have been much easier to lay my weapons down, give up the fight, stop suffering, and crawl back to the security and ease i could have had, but it would have come at an enormous cost – my self respect & my happiness. i will always encourage those around me to be more, to want more out of life, & above all be true to themselves and fight for their lives.

the suevoltiuon ™ (a brilliant term coined by not me) continues…

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5
Nov 10

PBS

screw blondes – bad girls have more fun.

good girl, bad girl – it’s really all a matter of perspective.

so i have replaced wine with chocolate, but i think i have to go to pills next – no calories.

writing inspiration always strikes when i am in bed – after all, it is where i do my best work…

as far as dating goes, i think i may be a seller in a buyer’s market…

so far there is no major difference between having the cat around the house and having a husband: he sheds, eats anything i give him, doesn’t clean up after himself,  licks me only occasionally, marks his territory by peeing where he’s not supposed to, doesn’t come when i call, hides to avoid activities he doesn’t want to do, and ignores me until he wants something. nice thing is, i can neuter this guy and give him away if i get tired of him.

i enjoy a romp with my battery powered friend before i go to sleep. but after being surprised i took a 4 hour nap the other day, a friend suggested that i not set my vibrator to stun

you know, honestly, i didn’t want to get a cat at all, but it has given me a lot of new material – i have tapped into a whole new subject area since i can make endless double entendre pussy references now.

i have a friend who is a martha stewart of sorts and i just feel so inadequate around her – she really inspires me to want to do & be so much more…i have decided to stop hanging around her.

i was all set to go out to today and run a bunch of errands but then i realized i had so many unfinished things to take care of around the house – a bag of potato chips, a box of chocolate, and a bottle of wine.

i thought The Headache Excuse was completely bogus until i had one the other night -  i wouldn’t even do myself.

just how long have you let yourself go when you have to put “shower” on your To Do list?

my dating life is a train wreck and i am the unlicensed engineer.

The Biggest Loser is not only a reality show, but who contacts me online.

i am ready to dive back into the dating pool, but since there is no lifeguard, i am going to wear my floaties this time.

for some men condoms aren’t an option, you need a full wet suit.

thank goodness we educate new mothers about the possibility of post-partum depression after birth – but shouldn’t we do the same for new wives about post honeymoon depression after the wedding?

note to unworthy men: sometimes we fuck you because we have nothing else to do & we are just bored.

my resolve to get things done tomorrow is always so much stronger today.

i was at my friend dana’s house eating gas inducing hibachi leftovers and i asked her if she minded if i farted. she said, “no, but i just don’t want it to smell.”

i was immensely flattered to find out several of my friends must delete my texts.

dating has totally made me get why strippers hate men.

i was contacted by a hot greek man online. i began to respond, but remembered i had to do the proper background check first and google greek penis size first.

i think the problem with the dating pool might be that it’s only stocked with flounders & guppies and i’m a shark.

i would stop drinking, but nothing fun ever happens when i’m sober.

there are no alcohol bottles in my house – they are all outside in the recycle bin.

go ahead – jump in feet first into the sea of online dating – but wear a life vest.

i wish i could dvr my life – fast forward to the end of the work day, delete things i don’t like, watch the good parts of my day over & over again, generally avoid anything distasteful, and most importantly, set the frequency for sex.

i actually did give up drinking for awhile and i realized something very important: sobriety is greatly overrated.

my pal, jenna, & i poop at the same time every day (yes, sadly we discuss this) – some women synch their periods, we synch our bowels.

whatever i catch in the dating pool, must be thrown back – i am beginning to think it’s the bait…

being a lil’ bit crazy, but basically functional is fine, but being a batshit nutjob and wandering about free in the world should require some sort of identification be worn at all times so the rest of us have fair warning.

lice is going around the school. i worried about catching it until i found out they prefer to take residence in clean hair.

i’d like to see a female wrestler called The Ex-Wife kicking ass – or better yet, a super hero: among her powers would be the ability to make any deadbeat ex-husband pay up immediately and then banish him to a tower of isolation for eternity.

my girls have a problem with PBS: Pre-Bitch Syndrome.

i want to keep letting my hair grow until it’s past my boobs. question is, with a bra on or off? this obviously determines the amount it still has to go.

i don’t do name tags. chances are if i didn’t give a shit who anyone was before i knew their name, i’m not gonna start at a fucking corprorate cocktail hour. do adults who are capable of actual speech, remembering their own names, & controlled muscle movement really need to wear these things to break the proverbial ice? and, furthermore, it’s a good bet that i don’t want to be identified later…

conversation at work with cool boss:

boss: “do you think you will get married again?”

me: “no way!”

boss: “well, you are kind of negative about men.”

me: “wow, thanks for pointing that out – that’s a major breakthough.”

recently the girls & i were invited to dinner at their friend’s house. while helping clean up, i opened the fridge to put the leftovers away and the inside just looked so odd to me. i couldn’t put my finger on why until i realized it was full.

while totally warranted, bitter is such an ugly word used to describe me – i prefer tangy.

i have tried to be less lazy, but i’m just not that motivated do anything about it.

i have tried to be less high maintenance, but i just have so many needs to be met.

my cousin was hit on by a hot married woman who explained that her husband is a quadripalegic and they have “an arrangement.” cuz wasn’t sure he wanted to cross over to the dark side (something about morals), but, i, of course, advised him to go for it. he said, “ok, but if she pulls into the driveway in a wheel chair equipped van, that’s where i draw the line.”

it has recently occurred to me, i may be one of “those people.”

popping zits & bubble wrap: universally satisfying.

text conversation with a suspected jackass i had only been texting with for a few days, that even i found offensive:

jackass: “i am in manalapan, do you want to get spanked?”

me: “you have to be kidding me.”

jackass: “nope”

me: “i wonder if your dick is as big as your balls.”

jackass: never heard from again.

me: :-)

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