ponderings of a mad woman « single with vodka

ponderings of a mad woman

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.

Update

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!

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 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!

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

tweet tweet

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…

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!

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!

ponderings of a mad woman / rants / the suevolution(tm) — 6 Comments
7
Jun 11

oh, swv, where art thou?

so, where has the gggb been since march? well, i would love to tell you that i secured a lucrative mutli-book deal, or i am now writing a syndicated column, or that my blog is being made into an HBO series which will then lead to several movies, or that i’m the head writer of my own sit-com on a major network, but the truth is, i just got plain busy and sucked into my own chaos. in the last few months i sold my house, packed it up, dealt with a ton of last minute fuck yous in the selling process which were perfectly in tune with the nasty divorce proceeding it, turned 40, weathered the second anniversary of my father’s death, bought a new place, moved, and had a whirlwind romance. and since i had to do all that shit alone (well, other than the romance part of it), somewhere along the way i didn’t make time for the blog, my dear fans – all ten of you. it’s been a tiresome and long road full of pitfalls lined with booby-traps, but now that i have finally arrived at one of the main destinations on this crazy train, it has inspired much reflection. and i warn you now, it’s a poorly organized, rambling, and random reflection devoid of proper transitions and full of deliciously run-on sentences like this one…

you know, no little girl dreams of the perfect wedding day being followed in 14 years by the perfect divorce day, so understandably, no matter how much i wanted the split and came to accept it, it’s still been a lot to deal with and adjust to. on top of that, i had to face turning 40, (i am still not quite sure how that happened) which actually seemed a lot worse looking toward it from 39 when i was so unsettled and in month 21 of a very nasty divorce. but, in reality, my 40th birthday found me in a great place – the divorce was close to a year behind me, i was almost in my own home, and it was spent with someone very special. it was actually the best birthday i ever had. i remembered back to my 35th, when i made the life altering decision to change my path. i had looked at myself and how miserable i was trapped in a loveless marriage and decided i either had to make a plan for liberation or just stay until i died and try to eek out some happiness somewhere and absolutely stop complaining about it. however, i decided i had OLTL, and i had get out with the goal of being happily settled into a new life by the time i was 40. and that is exactly what i did. so, other than the terror of knowing my life is most likely half over, that i have wasted much of it with poor decisions, and now it’s just downhill physically from here, i still have a lot for which to be extremely thankful. so far, part II of The Book of Sue is a great read. and of course, it doesn’t hurt that i still look pdf (prettay damn fiyne )

so about the moving part – you see, i have never ever lived alone – i went from my parents’ home to living in tiny spaces with bitchy roommates (sometimes i was the bitchy roommate), then back to my parents’ home, and then to living with my boyfriend, turned fiancee, turned husband and kids. so this is a huge bfd. the first weekend after i moved into my new home (which i love, love, love with a territoriality matched only by a mountain lioness for her cubs, and fills with me great joy every minute i am in it, and when i’m not in it, i’m looking forward to going back to it), my mother and my sister helped me unpack my clothes, we had so much fun, laughing, mostly as the expense of my wardrobe (“no really. it looks good on…”), and i realized it was the first time the three of us laughed together since my dad died. and i love being Head of Household (i get to file that on my taxes now): every decision to be made is mine alone. if there is underwear on the floor it’s my underwear. if there is dirt on the floor, it’s my dirt. everything is how i want if from the placement of the couch to the setting on the thermostat. the leftovers are always there in the morning and my shit is wherever i left it the night before. if it gets messy, it because i let it get that way. right now, i can not imagine sharing this space. i run a very tight housekeeping ship -my kids know they are lucky i even let them stay here.

and once i got physical space, i realized i needed mental and emotional space. while embracing my cliched rebellious slut alter ego the past few years, i had also become a text whore – i wanted texting attention 24/7. but now i see it was at the expense of having real relationships. i think i was hiding behind all that e-chatter because while i desired the human interaction, i was still so broken inside that i wanted to keep people at a comfortable distance. it made sense, that since i had become so utterly withdrawn and marooned during the marriage, i had to be reintroduced into society slowly. and fittingly, my marriage along with other relationships ultimately lived and died by the text. but i see now, all that texting was just a way to distract myself from my life and avoid adult relationships. and the immense amount of energy it required, became a drain on me and a distraction from my life and children.

being in a long bad marriage can really fuck a girl up for future relationships, but finally a lightbulb moment after the last recent breakup occurred: i realized i have never given myself a chance to Just Be since this all began. to just sit and be quiet and think and revel in my singleness. look at what i survived and how i how survived it and see that i really did come out of it stronger and better. really figure out who i am, what i want, and to be clear about it, and then to follow that path and respect myself in the process. really think about why i choose whom i do to become friends with and date. why i become friends with people so quickly, trust way too soon, and fall in and out of love so easily. why i can be madly in love one day and walk away the next. why i am living so unconsciously like a hamster on a wheel or a rat in a maze repeating patterns time and time again. and to see that what it is i am hiding from, is, most likely, myself.

so much of who you are with in life, in my opinion, is due to timing and proximity – you can marry the wrong person at the right time or you can break up with the right person at the wrong time. you can be with someone who is perfect for you, but you are not perfect for them. you can fall in love with someone you can never have and not be interested in those who want you. you can be friends with people simply because of what you have in common at the time, but then that eventually ends because the circumstances change. but all of those relationships shape you and help you define yourself and who you want to be. and, then, hopefully you paid attention and you take something away from each one that you will use to make your next relationship or friendship better. maybe, you figure out what you want to do differently the next time around. maybe you learn, evolve. however, it’s really hard to know that in the midst of it. and it would be easy and comfortable to go back to those old habits and back into the beds of those old habits, but, and don’t fall off your chairs folks, but i am taking a self imposed vow of chastity. crazy, i know, but it’s a detox of sorts. getting clean, so to speak.

i refuse to be labeled as just another crazy woman who doesn’t know what she wants. i have always known what i have wanted, but most of the time i haven’t acted on it. for now, i know i need and want to just be alone and figure a lot of things out. i know i am not ready for another relationship nor will i be for a while. the thought of strangers in my bed, dealing with the bottom dwellers in the shallow dating pool of online dating, or meeting a new penis repulses me right now. i have no desire to look or be looked at. i am not bitter with men (well, at least not entirely), just tired of dating and sleeping with them. tired of using them to distract me from my own thoughts when i’m the only one awake late at night – you know the ones about dying alone with twenty cats who will ultimately nibble my toes when i’m dead because there is no one there to stop them. and the thing is, i just don’t have the desire to even try to be good at a relationship right now. i don’t want to work on it for even a minute, or share anything with anyone, or pretend i give the slightest shit about how anyone’s day was. and i know that is harsh and selfish and unrealistic for maintaining a successful relationship, but i have to honor where i am right now. it’s okay to see that i just need some breathing room. and my girls need me, all of me. and i want to go back to being the dedicated mother i was before all of this nonsense started. the mother who made dinner every night and played on the floor and laughed with them and read stories to them and cuddled them to sleep every night. they are growing up too quickly and will be slipping past me soon into teenagedom and i could cry over wasting so much of that precious time with them while i was lost in all of this madness.

i see that my life is has been greatly improved as a result of the divorce, but theirs has been completely thrown into upheaval. they have to maintain two new homes, two schedules, navigate two parents and extended families that have made their disdain for each other painfully clear at times, and adjust to seeing their parents with different people. they are the ones that truly have the task of adjusting. and there is no easing the pain and guilt i feel over that. and now, i really understand “staying together for the kids,” but i also know a happy mommy will make happy children. though it’s still hard to live with the fact, that just as they never asked to be born, they never asked to have their family torn apart and lives irrevocably changed. i can only hope it will ultimately be for the best and they will make better choices in their lives because of it than i have up to this point. life is all about learning from mistakes and as one of my friend’s students said, and whether he wrote it or not, i have no idea, but i sure wish i said it: “in school you learn the lesson first and then have the test. in life you take the test first and then learn the lesson.” he figured out at 15 what i just figured out at 40.

and along that vein, i quit my poverty level suck-ass job with useless health “benefits” too – it had turned into a toxic and abusive relationship of its own. and while completely financially irresponsible, i am taking off the summer to relax and enjoy my new life. to get back to my girls, my friends, and most importantly, myself. doing all the things i used to do before i relinquished who i was along the way. and if losing my dad taught me anything, it’s that life is short and happiness is fleeting so you have to grab it whenever you can. no ones knows what tomorrow holds. we can make all the plans we want but its not really up to us, is it? i certainly didn’t plan that last dinner with my dad to be the last one. and i have not yet even begun to lick those wounds or even try to heal from them. i haven’t wanted to even acknowledge that rawness and i know until i do i won’t be able to be in a healthy romantic relationship.

i wrote about transition once during the divorce, which really is a constant thing in life, but i find myself so obviously in it again. strangely, this time it’s welcome. and all i know is that for the first time in my entire life, i am starting to feel at rest and at ease and i am beginning to feel a calmness and peace wash over me. it’s like unwinding on a sorely needed vacation except this is actually my life (the proof: i don’t even yell at my kids anymore – i just sigh and walk away). and that is a gift i have been given, albeit, in a very circuitous and torturous way: the gift of a second chance to do it right this time. to live consciously with self-awareness and for the first time ever, i am not going to squander it. i will stop operating from what i don’t want and stop running from, and instead focus on what i do want and run toward.

and following that, i have a new bumper sticker: 40 and over it because i am done with poor decisions for act two. i will no longer do things i don’t want to or am unsure of. i wont be pushed into anything before i am ready ever again – be it a job, relationship, or friendship. then maybe, i won’t be so quick to jump ship. i won’t care what others think of me and my decisions (err, or less than i already don’t). i will remove anything toxic from my life, learn to see the gray areas, i will fight my poor impulses, listen to my wise gut, and i will love myself for all of it. and i certainly don’t want to grow old alone, but i am not afraid to do so if that means being true to myself and honoring who i am (but i do set the limit at four cats). 40 is actually liberating and i probably wouldn’t appreciate all i have now if i hadn’t gone through all the bullshit.

you know, last summer began the suvoltion ™. it was the Summer of Sowing Her Oats Sue. this one is gong to be the Summer of Self Discovery Sue (i don’t know what is about summer than inspires me to make changes, but it just does. i think it’s a throwback to coming back to school after growing boobs one summer. “hey, look at me now, assholes”). to truly evolve, i have to be willing to really look at myself and face some hard truths i have been fiercely avoiding, to finally try to heal, unlike this goddamn fissure on my ass (yes virginia, there is such a thing as too much grooming). and i think i am finally on my way home, toto.

and, so here i sit; blissfully alone, on my patio, on a beautiful, clear, quiet morning, birds chirping (those fuckers never shut up), ac humming, trees rustling, flowers in full bloom, drinking coffee, writing my blog- all of it just as i had imagined when the whole thing began a few years ago. but i realize i did forget to envision one thing: this giant smile across my face.

viva la suevoltuion!

now go like me on facebook, bitches!

one liners- hey it's easy / ponderings of a mad woman — 6 Comments
11
Jan 11

50 ways to leave your blizzard

i am not looking forward to yet another giant snow storm out of which i am going to have to shovel all alone since the BBFA (assuming he even would have come to my aid) is now the BFNM and the neighbors certainly won’t be coming to help because it seems the wives got together and banned them from even glancing in my direction now that i am the divorcee across the street. but, what’s worse is it just so happens tomorrow is normally my day off and instead of getting a mani/pedi, i will be trapped in the house with two bored children all day. in light of that realization, i have come up with a list of 50 snowy day activities to stave off cabin fever in a DRY house (who’s terrible idea was it to stop drinking for awhile to lose weight anyway?):

1. alphabetize all the canned goods in my pantry.

2. pluck my nostril hairs.

3. make kitty litter sculptures.

4. check all of the expiration dates on my coupons that i continually clip and never use.

5. go through old family albums with my girls and let them make fun of my hair and outfits from the 70′s…and 80′s…and 90′s…and 00′s.

6. stop pretending for one day that surfaces higher than my 5’0 eye level don’t get dirty and actually dust them.

7. put all the socks in balls and cut the single ones loose.

8. straighten out all the twist ties.

9. clean all of the long ago abandoned cobwebs out of the recessed lights.

10. collect the dust bunnies from under the couch and use them to insulate the drafty windows.

11. pick all the salt off the pretzel sticks.

12. watch a pot boil and bread toast.

13. sharpen all 400 pencils in the junk drawer.

14. explore what all of the random keys i have open & try not to get sucked into an alternate universe when i find a small door i never noticed before.

15. floss really, really, reaaaallllllyyyyyy well. twice.

16. knit a gray scarf out my findings from the lint trap.

17. put all of the silverware facing the same way in the utensil drawer.

18. spit polish each crystal on the chandeliers.

19. give the cat a deep conditioning treatment.

20. iron all the clothes that i washed over the last 10 years that i never wore again after washing them because i needed to iron them.

21. macaroni self-portraits.

22. sort the mutli-colored glitter into separate piles and then mix it all up again.

23. count the amount of popcorn kernels in a bag of microwavable popcorn & then decide if the ratio of popped to unpopped is acceptable.

24. measure the runs in all of my pantyhose that need to be thrown out because they have runs in them.

25. scrape the plaque off my teeth.

26. watch the hair on my legs grow.

27. test all 1000 magic markers to see which ones are dried out & then arrange them in rainbow order.

28. remove the chunks from the chunky peanut butter.

29. count how many stripes my cat has.

30. scrub all of the grout in my kitchen with my ex bf’s toothbrush.

31. search ebay for every toy i ever owned as a child and bid ridiculous amounts of money to win them.

32. organize the buttons in the button jar by type and color.

33. snip off my split ends.

34. categorize all the loose recipes i have cut out for meals i will never make in a binder i will never open.

35. do that thing from second grade with the avocado & the toothpicks in a cup of water where you try to get it to root and once it does, throw it out.

36. untangle all of the rubber bands.

37. see just how many cups of tea you can get from one tea bag before it runs clear (oh dear god, i miss vodka).

38. watch water freeze into ice cubes.

39. count the stars in Campell’s Chicken and Stars soup and then the seeds on a moldy strawberry.

40. fill each square of the frozen waffles with syrup.

41. mate the dino nuggets & bring them back from extinction.

42. bleach all of my freckles.

43. check the kids for parasites.

44. sort the paper clips into piles by size and make chains out of them.

45. remove all of the dead bugs from in between the vanes of the silhouettes.

46. change my password for every site i have a password for on the internet.

47. straighten my curly hair and then curl my straight hair.

48. make sure all of the hangers in all of the closets are facing the same way.

49. try to learn spanish by watching spanish soap operas and then try to learn to read lips by watching the tv with the volume on mute.

50. endlessly make inane lists.

you know, if you really liked me then you’d tell your friends to like me on facebook too!

ponderings of a mad woman / rants / seriously, folks / the asshat / the suevolution(tm) / true but unecessary confessions — 3 Comments
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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NC-17 / one liners- hey it's easy / ponderings of a mad woman — 1 Comment
22
Oct 10

RVS

here is how to tell if the guy you’re “dating” is too young for you: when pillow talk after sex is really motherly advice.

handy binge drinking hangover planning formula for the middle-aged: 1 hour for every year of your life multiplied by the amount of drinks you plan to have = the amount of recovery time you will need to allot afterward.

like the prince looking for the girl who fits the shoe, i will know i have met my beloved when he finds my magic bean.

an asshat by any other name is…my ex-husband.

i have mercy fucked the ugly, the poor, the young, the old, the hairy, the sweaty, the ill-tempered, ill-mannered, ill-equipped, the poorly skilled, the fat, the skinny, the weak, & the wretched. i am the gd mother theresa of sex.

looks like the boys of summer have gone; but that’s okay – because my vagina grows a thick coat & goes into hibernation over the winter.

since we got the kitten, i have no desire to go out & troll for men anymore. now i stay home & do what i do best – stroke my pussy.

we won’t be a truly civilized society until every restroom has butt wipes.

anyone know the etiquette governing sheet changing between one night stands? i just don’t have that much time for laundry.

i just want one dependable penis. is that too much to ask?

it is nearly impossible to find truth in dating and i am just tired of the inevitable disappointment – so i am going to run my sex life like an employment agency from now on: interested applicants will be pre-screened via an application process in which they must submit current photos, a resume outlining all skills & qualities applicable to the job, complete employment history, a P & L statement, personal references and at least 3 glowing letters of recommendation from previous employers. after being granted an interview, candidates that make it to the second round must pass a simulated field test, blood test, & thorough physical examination. there will be temporary positions available with the possibility of long term employment if job performance is evaluated to be satisfactory. there is no vacation or sick time but full benefits will be available after successfully completing a designated waiting period. employment is strictly at will – my will. it will not be an EEO workplace either. only serious applicants need apply.

i was talking to my cousin & lamenting the release of the last penis in my stable back into the wild. i was telling him how hard it was find a steady lay. he summed up the single woman’s situation perfectly, “you can get laid any time you time want, just not by whom you want.”

i am no fashionista, but aren’t footless tights the same as leggings? now crotchless, i understand.

does anyone remember when the manicurist actually gave a shit about NOT getting polish on your skin? this is what happens when you outsource american goods & services to overseas workers.

i frequently wake up in the night all tingly and unable to get back to sleep -i think i am suffering from RVS – Restless Vagina Syndrome.

some women do divorce planning before they file. i affair-planned.

want a free lunch? throw a card into my bowl.

i would be more apt to play barbies with my girls if they made some dolls i could relate to like Divorced Barbie and her slutty twin sister, Sowing Her Oats Barbie or their fun friend, Part-time Alcoholic Barbie.

i am old fashioned girl – i expect a man to pay for my dinner before he gets to have me for dessert.

a successful one night stand is just that- ONE night. don’t ruin it by actually trying to get to know each other.

my body is like a temple and those who do not worship it properly will be excommunicated.

single woman at confession: bless me mother for i have sinned. i had impure thoughts & slept around. head mistress: do two 20 year olds, and blow one old man.

these are my rules for “dating” those under 30: come over and fuck me when i call, every time i call, never ever stand me up, don’t ask for snacks, don’t whine about your mommy, don’t ask for career advice or to take a shower, and, for god sakes, leave immediately after we are done – i have shit to do in the morning.

so i’m settling into the new job nicely – my top drawer is filled with snacks, i have memorized the secret code to get into the employee “lounge,” i have eradicated any evidence of the existence of the person before me (most likely tossing important papers i will need when i actually know what i am doing), & by day 6, i had my pants unbuttoned after lunch.

after the following conversation occurred in my bedroom:

“i’m going home to sleep.”

“well, of course you are.”

“well, are you at least gonna walk me out?”

“do i have to?”

i decided to look into obtaining some signage so that the exits are clearly marked.

some people think it’s time i cleaned up my act – so i decided to take a 30 day pledge of sobriety & chastity. HAHAHAHAHAHA

i pray for world peace and freedom from asshats for all.

i have come to the conclusion that i am not a fan of showers of any kind unless it’s hand held.

no longer working with men is a welcome relief from all the oogling, flirting, & sexual tension - i was starting to worry i was going to get fired for sexual harassment.

some people find success with yoga or meditation, but i didn’t feel truly at peace until i got in touch with my Inner Bitch.

there is nothing like a warm pussy in your lap - once you go cat, you never go back.

how can booze & sex feel soooo good at the time, but soooo bad the next day?

you know you’re getting old when you have to slide that birth year bar alllllllllllll the way down to select the year. sigh.

this is terribly shallow, but it always surprises me when ugly people have affairs.

wrap dresses need to have cautionary labels such as: WARNING: A sudden gust of wind may blow dress completely open while you are walking past 27 car mechanics. Wear underwear at all times when using this product.

bumper sticker seen on horse drawn carriage: prince charming was a mama’s boy.

when a divorced woman is with her married friends, they seem to hold their husbands arms slightly tighter. married ladies, not to worry: we know your husbands, we have listened to you bitch about them, and most importantly, we are not interested in trading one jackass for another. that prize is all yours honey.

you can never go wrong just being yourself…unless you’re a total asshole.

while reflecting upon my failed marriage, i realized there were so many other men i could have chosen to disappoint me.

getting back into bed after the girls’ bus leaves on my day off isn’t so much about needing the sleep, so much as it is just knowing i can.

three things i have just accepted i am not going to do no matter how much i continually resolve to do them:

1. floss

2. make my bed

3. balance my checkbook

i pulled a “going out” bag i rarely use out of the closet the other night and found a wad of singles in it. at first i was elated, but then i became increasingly alarmed trying to trace its origins…

i would rather sleep with a stranger than have phone sex with him.

i was recently at a hotel i used to frequent for a completely legitimate reason and it didn’t feel right…

note sent from rapunzel’s tower: i’m bored. send shoes.

making new friends at work: over it.

i’m an optimist – i always see the vodka bottle as 1/2 full.

removing a new barbie from the package is like negotiating a hostage release.

it’s not the men i miss or even the sex – it’s the texts.

it’s a good thing i don’t have a bookie because i have borrowed wine bottles all over town with no intentions of paying ‘em back.

you know it’s finally over when you de-friend him on facebook.

i get on these food jags where i obsessively eat one thing until i get sick of it. usually, the only way to cure it is to just finally gorge myself on the thing in one sitting which makes me become disgusted with it forever after The Feed. it works in other areas of my life too - i had tons of meaningless sex with strangers for a few months and i am completely done with that now. the vodka, however, is the anomaly to this theory.

here is the thing about reunions in middle age: as expected, the women, for the most part, look gorgeous and even better than they did in high school; or at the very least, are well preserved. what is shattering, is to see the beautiful boys you lusted after have all turned into short, fat, bald gnomes. this is particularly crushing when you are freshly divorced, feeling fabulous, and using The Reunion as a Dating Opportunity.

text exchange with my gf loreen:

me: s’up beyatch?

loreen: same shit. what are you up to?

me: ditt-O. cept now i do it with a cat

loreen: i hope you weren’t being literal about doing it with the cat.

me: nah. i’m done with males of all species.

loreen: now that was funny.

me: thank you, good night.

oh my god. i just answered the door with a cat in my arms. it’s official, i am a Crazy Cat Lady.

i really don’t hate men – i’m just trying to head ‘em off at the pass.

the ex wants me to give him a ghet (a jewish divorce). oh, he can have his ghet, when i get the rest of what i’m supposed to get.

i just adore the kitten, but i am not going to be one of those people who talks endlessly about her pet; but i just have to tell you about the cutest thing he did the other day…

i remember when i first found out that all of those gorgeous male models with the six-pack abs & sculpted bodies were gay. that certainly set the tone for disappointment in men early in life.

one of my random hookups took the last condom home with him. i thought this was bad form. is he not familiar with the concept of a hostess gift?

i love that facebook personally tailors the ad sidebar for me: a weight loss ad, followed by a divorce support group ad, followed by a romance a millionaire ad. what, no vodka or AA ads?

my dating life is in recession headed toward a full depression.

Truth In Dating icebreaker: razor, laser, or wax?

terry cloth sweats are my preferred loungewear – they are highly absorbent and quickly mop up the spilled vodka – and then you can wring ‘em out into your glass. (i do so hate waste.)

i used to think asexual people were missing something, but now i think they actually have it all figured out.

whenever i bring a man back to my place, i like to slip into something a little more vodka.

oh bare minerals, you had me at sleep.

so i realized i was out of a few things for making school lunch and went food shopping in my friend’s refrigerator. the price was right but she wouldn’t honor my coupons.

new bumper sticker: wanna consumate?

when a friend of mine was trying to convince me to engage is some inappropriate texting, i told him i wasn’t sure about it because “i’m so shy…an absolute shrinking violet.” he responded, “more like a venus flytrap.”

when women say, “why are the good ones always taken?” i wonder what exactly is their definition of “good.”

is being a douchebag a choice or are you just born with it?

and in that vein, i am fairly certain anyone driving a yellow mode of transport, other than a school bus driver, is one.

i have no idea what the meaning of life is, but i do know vodka is clear for a reason.

single with vodkagood girl gone bad