single with vodkagood girl gone bad

from the i am getting too old for this files:

i have been out with my pre-tween girls on more than one occasion when i clucked disapprovingly at what “teenage girls are wearing these days. it’s just disgraceful that their mothers allow that.” pictures from my high school years would reveal that i dressed like one of those tramps myself.

no matter how routine she knows it is, and despite her seemingly huge annoyance with it, any woman over 30 will always be secretly thrilled to be carded.

at 2 am there is nothing sadder than a drunk, over-botoxed, orange spray tanned, too skinny, bleached blond cougar in spandex with new tits on an old body alone at the bar for last call waiting for someone (anyone) to take her home for a mercy fuck. i am going to retire early from the singles’ scene before i can be described as doing even just one of those things (well, except for drunk).

from the that will ruin your day files:

upon sitting in the pedi chair for a relaxing treat after a long hard week, the tiny asian bitch looked at my gut and most likely trying to make conversation said, “you have baby?” i said, “no, apparently i gained some weight since i was here last, but thanks for noticing.” consequently,  she was quiet for the rest of the time which was nice because i always hate when they talk to me anyway.

while purchasing tickets for a movie, my mother asked for the senior discount. the vacuous 18 year old behind the counter then turned to me & asked if i would like the senior price too. at first i wanted to cry, but then i thought, “what the hell?” a discount is a discount.

from the hangover files:

i decided i must make a clean break from dirty martinis.

my liver can’t recover  like it used to. in college i could party as late as i wanted for as many nights as i wanted, pop 2 tylenols before bed & resume all of my daily activities. now if i want to binge drink for even one night, i need to plan for a week of recovery.

a friend remarked, “when people say they have to quit drinking, it makes me nervous.” i told her that’s why i never quit.

from the beauty files:

i decided i won’t  torture myself anymore to lose that last 5 (10) pounds because i realized there is no way you’re gonna get these perky 32DD’s (which are real AND spectacular) on a 5’0 frame without a little extra padding elsewhere.

my mom was never high maintenance (none of us have any idea how she raised me) but she did impart some valuable knowledge that has allowed me to preserve my glowing youth so successfully: 1. it is never too early to start using eye cream. 2. stay the fuck out of the sun especially when you are fair & have skin the thickness of filo dough.

it is not advisable to wear new fuck me heels in which you are unaccustomed to walking after a fresh pedi, because when you fall off them & twist your ankle, you will indubitably scratch up the fresh polish.

after a full day of personal maintenance, it occurred to me that i was all groomed up with no one to fuck.

i quit the gym, but it’s okay because i have some new behaviors in place: 1. i am going to jog to the fridge. 2. i will hide my remote & manually change the channels on the tv. and 3. i will put diet soda in my vodka.

from the lost poetry files:

roses are red.
violets are blue.
it’s been so long since i got laid,
that my legs i no longer shave.

from the irritable bowel syndrome files:

at dinner my pal thought her phone was vibrating, but she realized it was just her intestines.

after a long day or full evening of holding in my gas, i love when i am finally in my car alone and can let loose, but i am concerned my intense flatulence is obliterating the new car smell.

i often wonder what would happen if farts had a color and differed in color according to intensity of stank. kind of like the national state of emergency chart of color level for terrorist activity but for methane intensity. i think we would have no choice but to deem farting socially acceptable. except you might cross the street if you saw someone blow a dark green cloud knowing it was going to be especially foul.

the smaller the girl, the bigger the farts.

you ever think its safe to freely fart in an empty room at work and then someone walks in after you did? they have to know it’s you. no one else is in there.

you know your gas is intense, when you have to roll down the window.

you know you are in a solid relationship when you can lean to one side & lift a cheek and let it all out.

from the random musings files:

why is that i can instantly get most anything delivered to my house except for what i really need? vodka.

so, since i started writing, i can’t simply have conversations anymore or participate in any aspect of my life without wondering if its blogworthy and surreptitiously taking notes on my phone. to be fair, i tell people, “i am so using that in my blog.”

i tried to quit coffee but the withdrawal was so intense i didn’t want to live. plus i was tired and confused all the time. if i owned a drug company, i would develop a caffeine patch or a gum for those trying to quit or who just need a steady delivery system of caffeine to make it through the day. (hey merck, this is a freebie.)

being in bumper to bumper traffic has a domino effect: the guy in front of you moves up 2 millimeters, then you do, and down the line it goes. sometimes when sitting at a traffic light i will notice a space between me & another car that i can either ignore or move up few inches. i usually choose to move up because there is a delicious sense of power in knowing i just set off a major chain of cause & effect for all those poor slobs behind me. i am the traffic queen!

some commercials are so intentionally cheesy i can not imagine that the advertiser even thinks they are good. i figure that the production budget was so low, they advertiser just didn’t give a shit as long as the product was on tv.

i think we need to buy products on infommercials that will “save us so much time” because we wasted all that time watching said infommercials. they are just sooooo fucking long.

why was it when we were in high school (last century) the kids in the band & drama club were usually considered to be giant dorks, but as adults, musicians & actors are some of the most revered people in our society? same is true for the computer nerds whom we now worship when they fix our technology.

there is one good week for women in a month and that is the week immediately after the last day of her period when all of her jeans fit. the rest of the month she is either getting it or has it.

there are now studies extolling the virtues of eating chocolate, taking naps, drinking wine, having orgasms every day, laughing, and limiting hard core exercise. it can’t be long until we find out being a bitch is good for you too.

i think the reason bad weather is so infuriating is that there is no one specific on which to lay blame. you can bitch all you want, but you can’t do shit to change it. weather is the one thing we as humans will never be able to control & that simultaneously freaks us out & pisses us off.

i spent mother’s day with my mom & sister at my friend’s house with her boyfriend’s family for an hour before she came home. when she finally  walked in, i told her i was about to text her: “10 more minutes and this becomes a blog post.”

i am all about having a sense of humor and i really don’t understand how someone can lack one. when i run into a humorless person, it immediately becomes my personal challenge to make them laugh and walk away with a smile. i have a warped need for approval.

from the parenting files:

your child’s entire sex education & knowledge of profanity occurs not from your well thought out talks, but from riding that damn bus back & forth to school every day. that is what happens when you put fifth graders & first graders on the bus together. sound travels up from “the back.”

a woman is always most fertile right after losing that last bit of baby weight.

i don’t know why that no matter what my kids ask me to do, my first response is always to want to say no.

i hate hosting playdates, going to birthday parties, and basically anything  that requires dealing with other peoples’ children but does not involve booze at the same time.

happy hour used to mean going drinking after work with friends. now it’s that one hour after the kids finally go to bed when i think about drinking but fall asleep before i find the vodka bottle.

god, my kids are perfect, brilliant, well -behaved angels…i have never loved them so much as when they’re sleeping.

my friend had to get off the phone with me the other day because, as she put it “she had to bathe the bitches.” see, we all agree that we adore our children, but we are kinda over the mommy thing.

sometimes i overhear my 9 year old  & her friends complaining about me or saying i am mean after i get annoyed with them for asking me for something every 10 minutes and i think “why, you little ungrateful bitches.” then i think, good, i don’t want these fucking princesses to come back here anyway. what happened to the good old days when you were afraid of your friend’s parents and avoided them as much as possible?

from the files of i wish i said this:

i heard a comedian remark that marriage was like the stockholme syndrome. having been there & done that, i must say this is brilliantly true.

from the fashion police files:

i have noticed that generally, most heavy, slovenly dressed, unattractive women, carry the most expensive designer purses. it must be because you don’t have to be thin to wear a purse or even look in the mirror to try it on.

why is it that thin women have more modesty than the big girls? it seems the fatter the woman, the tighter the pants & shorter the top.

men revere summer as a time when women run around half naked to beat the heat. i dread it as the time of year when my retinas are burned by being forced against my will to see far more exposed bodily hair & flab than i could ever have imagined existed. some people need not to dress seasonally appropriately.

from the break-up files:

i realized it’s not the boyfriend i miss so much, it’s the 24/7 texting i have a hard time living without.

i won’t exactly be out on the street after my divorce, but my lifestyle will change significantly. it’s kind of a “riches to rags to story.”

in the process of leasing a new car a few months ago, i discovered going to car dealerships is far better than going to singles’ bars.

when i think about dating again, i refer to that old addage about many fish in the sea, but then a friend said, “same ones keep getting thrown back in the pond.” so i decided to buy the club pack of AAA’s.

from the working girl files:

if he is cute, it’s flirting. if he’s not, it’s sexual harassment.

now that i’m working again (for pay), i am one lazy bitch on my day off  – no more guilt about napping immediately after the school bus leaves.

from the sex files:

a woman scorned will undoubtedly make at least 1 of these 3 revelations immediately after the break-up: 1. he had a tiny penis. 2. she faked ALL the orgasms. 3. he was terrible in bed.

how we know when it’s really over as summed up by a fellow gggb: “my vagina is dry for him.”

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

women try to rationalize sleeping with a married man by saying, “if it’s not me, it will be someone else.” while that may indeed be true,  i say, let it be someone else, girl.

men have turned online dating sights into a free prostitution ring. keep that in mind, ladies.

once in awhile i get lonely & think i need a man in my life, but then i get some fresh batteries and in 60 seconds, i am over it.

masturbation, by it’s very definition, is a solo act. so let’s agree that i won’t bother to pretend to jerk you off and you don’t have to hold the vibrator.

in case you were wondering: it is possible to burn out the motor on a vibrator.

faking orgasms is like eating potato chips: you can’t stop at just one.