Turn Out the Lights, The Party’s Over

Today, I watched my desk get taken away never to be seen again.

Today, I emptied the trashcans and took it all away to the dumpster.

Today, I threw the last of the last little office items into the bed of my truck.

Today, I vacuumed my way out of the office.

Today, I turned off the lights and locked the door.

Today, I walked down the way and turned the keys into the landlord.

Today, I watched the last nearly nine years of my life come to an abrupt end.

I’m an emotional heap of whining mess.

I cried, knowing my job will never be the same as it has been.

I will now be in a new part of the company, as the southeast sales manager.

I suppose I should be happy that I still have a job after this reorganization/merge happened, because so many people are without jobs right now.

Like I said… I’m being a baby today.  I’m whining.  I’m crying.  I’m scared of the unknown.

Big T feels like shit, so he’s not in any condition to cheer me up.  Wish he’d crack a joke or fart or something.

Bearded Lizards, Lightnin Bugs & Mourning Children

My household is short one member this morning. My daughter is super sad.

I woke up around 1-ish this morning and the livingroom lights were on. I rounded the corner to find Miss A, her boyfriend and the boy sitting around looking extremely sad.

My first instinct was to be pissy because the boyfriend was still here. Then I figured by the solemn expression on each face that something indeed was troubling them.

The next thing I noticed was the lizard’s habitat was not in the girl’s bedroom, but in the livingroom with the depressed looking children. I was told the lizard was passing into the next life.

Immediately, I was transported into late night depression too.

FLASHBACK: “Mom, we’re goin out to catch lightnin bugs,” my daughter said.
They came in and went to the bedroom, where the lizard habitat is housed, lightning bug contraption in tow. Out of the bedroom I hear them giggle as the lizard must have been performing tricks to get the treat.

Lizards eat bugs, that’s nature.

So, they figured since it would jump across its home to get a cricket, it would jump in the air to get a flying critter. They finish feeding it 3 of the luminescent delicacies. And put in a movie. That’s when I went off to bed.

BACK TO THE NOW: So, whilst Diva slept, the lizard was becoming very ill.

By the time I woke up, it was too late. They had looked it up on the internets. Fireflies are TOXIC and not to be ingested by any other living creature.

We will be burying Joey today. Out back. Next to the rat that didn’t make it through baby rat birth.

I suppose in order to ease her sadness, I’ll wait a day or two and go get her another reptilian playmate.

I’ll be glad when she gets over having pets that require special care.  Why not go get a goldfish?

Drama Llamas, Smoke Breaks & the Scary Skanks

Drama Llama:  Any individual who is constantly embroiled in some kind of self-made crap of the dramatic sort and feels the need to spout it out to anybody and everybody who might listen for a split second whether it be by word of mouth or by plastering it on the internetz.

I was outside smoking (yah, I know it’s a bad habit sue me), when this chick sees me and starts walking down the sidewalk toward where I’m standing. 

She had that look in her eye, you know, that she was bored and just wanted to share, and bum a smoke. 

I avoid people who have this particular look like they have cooties or the plague.

I have decided that I’m a magnet for people like this.

I don’t mind sharing a smoke, but light it up and walk away, please.

Apparently she had been stranded at her doctors office after an appointment and was outside waiting for her ride to show up.

These are the things I learned about her in the 2.64 minutes I was standing outside, trying to mind my own business, as I enjoyed my nicotine buzz.

– She had forgotten her cigarrettes and lighter as she walked out of her place to come to the doctor and she wasn’t sure she was going to make it with out a ciggie.  Could she please bum one.

Sure.  I’m cool like that.  I share.

– She didn’t have a car because her ex-boyfriend had ‘sabotaged it’.  I’m not really sure what the hell that meant.  As I was trying to finish my smoke and return back to reading blogs work, I didn’t want her to elaborate either.

– Her new boyfriend of a little less than a month had went and bought her a car.

– Only problem with it is the new boy friend and the car is that he won’t let her drive the damn thing until she gets her license back.

– She had lost her license due to multiple tickets and failure to pay them. 

-Then she proceeded to ask me if I knew how she would go about getting her license back and how much it would cost so she wouldn’t be stranded anymore.

I finally gave up and pitched my ciggie just to escape.  No offense to anybody who lives in a life a drama… but daaaaayum.   Don’t be making yourself look like a Jerry Springer wannabe to a complete and total stranger.

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Go over and check out my little photo blog, kids.  Happy little pictures that will make your day.

1985 ~ RoadMaps, Perverts & Broken Hearts

 1985

I suppose everybody has a year (or two, or three) where they made some really drastic turns off of the main road on the map of life.  In layman’s terms… serious fuck ups.

 This is the year that I was faced with a blue million grown up choices while I was still fifteen.  Situations that I put myself into without any thought of any kind of consequence. Because afterall, nobody had ever told me no or told me I was wrong.

This is the year that would change my life forever in more ways than I can count.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting here boo-hooing about all the things I did or how everything turned out.  Oh, helllll no.  I am who I am because of every little thing I chose to do or not do.

So, let the drama roll, shall we?

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This is the year I met my baby daddy.  Quite by chance actually.  I was tooling about on my bike ride for the week, when this ol’ boy peddled ass up to me and grabbed a handful of Diva boob.

Him:  “Nice tits.”

Me (in my most natural bitchy state): “Fuck you.”

Must have scared the shit out of him that someone could be so crude and vulgar and he took off peddlin ass the speed of light.  I slowed up a little, watching him go on his merry way.    As it turns out, his conscience got to him and he waited at the next overpass to apologize.  Guess he wasn’t so much as asshole as he was fucking full of himself.

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This is the year Good Friday wasn’t all so good.  Good Friday was the day my Mom picked me up from school, carted my ass to the doctor’s office and got the positive test results.

 Ya see, bike boy and me fooled around and created offspring.  My Daddy got the news and told bike boy if he ever showed his face around me again he’d die a swift death.

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This was the year I saw my Daddy cry twice.

Once when he found out his baby was pregnant.

Once when he first held my little baby girl.

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This is the year I became a bona fide statistic.  A teen mom.

This is the year I beat the statistics and went back to school instead of dropping out.

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This was the year I lost my hot as all hell figure and turned into fluff.

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This is the year my Daddy decided California living was way too fast.

He packed us all up and moved to Tennessee.

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This is the year that I realized my life would never be the same.

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My life by the musical note for the year 1985.

 

George Michael- Careless Whisper- music to have a broken heart by.

 

Simple Minds – Don’t You Forget About Me – from the Breakfast Club – Good memories. 

 

 Til Tuesday – Voices Carry–  Keeps a girl from cryin

Silk Scarves, Girls, & Jailbirds

Our dear girl at Preposterous Ponderings has asked quite the little plethora of questions all across the board.

 She says:

“Here are some questions for ya:

1.Are you into bondage?
2.Favorite color?
3.Have you ever got it on with a female?
4.Why did you start blogging?
5.Have you ever been arrested?

How’s that for a variety?!”

That’s variety alright!  Let’s dive right in.

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Am I into bondage? 

Does a frog bump it’s ass when it jumps??  

Tie me up to the bed posts, slap a blindfold on  and go all 9 1/2 Weeks on my ass. 

Now I’m not into being hogtied or anything like that.

But some well placed long scarves or soft leather wrist and ankle things are pretty sweet.

What’s my favorite color?

My favorite color socks are black.

My favorite color popcicle is yellow for bananas.

My favorite color car is  silver.

My favorite hair color is blonde (today anyway).

My favorite color jolly rancher is the bright pink for watermelon.

My favorite color during football season is ORANGE!!  GO VOLS!

Have I ever got it on with a female?

The short answer is yah, I’ve dabbled in the minors, but obviously never went pro.

I love men.  Always have since the first time I laid eyes on Billy back in 4th grade.

I love women.  Didn’t figure that one out so early on though.

It’s just one of those things that defines who you are.

Straight, gay/lesbian, or bi-sexual.   Everybody is one or the other.

I’m bi-sexual.  I know how to enjoy either a man or a woman.

Big T knows.   I was totally honest with him.

He doesn’t pry and he doesn’t push.  He just lets it be what it is.

Why did I start blogging?

My blogging adventure started in an effor to address a bullshit hateful blurb that a skank I knew wrote on her MySpace early last year. 

It was a myspace thing.  I knew she’d see it.

As I’m a total attention whore, my nipples got hard when people read it and commented on it. 

A few things changed.  I don’t blog on myspace anymore and I generally don’t use my posts as a “fuck you” to call anybody out publicly.

But she pissed me off. 

The bitch.  I hope she’s miserable in her single wide with her case of beer and boat that don’t float.

 

Sorry.  Flashbacks and anger…  WoooooooSaaaaaahhhhhhhhh…

Have I Ever Been Arrested?

Would you believe me if I told you no?

Didn’t think so.

I’ve been pitched in the clink a few times. 

Always over stupid shit. 

First time.  I bounced a $12 check at Wal-Mart (honest mistake) for dog food and Charmin.

Nobody from Wal-Mart contacted me, they took a warrant out, and they came and picked me up.  Off I went.  Cuffed & printed. 

Bastards. 

Second time was my fault though. 

I had gotten a speeding ticket and seatbelt ticket, and thought they had been fixed cuz I knew this trooper’s daddy, who was also a trooper.

I ran and told his daddy that he had written me. 

Turns out he fixed the one for speeding, but missed the one for the seatbelt.

My license had gotten suspended.

I got pulled over on my way to the mountains for a day of fun and excitement (rolls eyes).

They ran it, it was suspended, I went to jail.

Fuck.

Since I lost my get outta jail free card that had been in my purse, I was screwed.

That one cost me a pretty penny to get out of.

In the end the judge was cool. 

He told me to “live long and prosper, young lady.”

Shaaa, right.  I gotta go.

Piss Off, Buzz Kill

I’ve finally figured out that most of my knee shaking epiphanies hit me while my ass is firmly planted on a bar stoll. This past weekend was, without doubt, no different.
I finally realized why, in fact, my past few months have been, how shall I say, like stink on shit.

Although I’m extremely happy with Big T, I feel like I have lost myself somewhere along the way… I’ve packed on 20 pounds since I got married and my clothes are too tight… which has led to me being severly annoyed at everything… which led to my lack of tolerance to drama in any circle in my life. I got enough drama dealing with my ever expanding ass to deal with anybody elses bull-caca.

I’ve decided that all the petty bullshit and disharmony must be flushed from my life like a Biore strip removes the blackhead on a super model’s ass.

I was in the midst of three different people, on three seperate occassions, having three separate issues during the long weekend, who, for whatever their reason, seem to tote sadness, misery and all out drama in their purses.

Swear to God, after number 2 acted up, I was seriously considering becoming a recluse and avoiding all humanity until these three got it together. Jeez.

My advice to them, get happy. Nobody wants to be around somebody who can’t smile and just share in the happiness. The world does not spin on its little axis simply for you to be in the center of it, no. Your problems are no bigger than anybody else’s. Get a grip, get a job. It’s life, get one.

There is absolutely no sense what-so-ever in all this crap.

How’s that? I just needed to get that off my chest. I’ll put on my hater blockers, go have some Chai Tea and meditate.

Adreneline Bubble Has Burst…

Just down in the dumps. Don’t feel good. Blah. Miserable and on a self serving pity party.

Refreshed, Rejuvenated, Renewed

I’m working on finding my sarcasm again after losing it somewhere between the altar and Germany. In hindsight, I don’t actually think I ever lost it. I think somehow it got kicked in the corner, or under my dresser with the dust-bunnies when I started having girl problems. Nothing like some girl issues to jack one’s system completely up. None-the-less, I started to feel my sassy self coming back to life.

Somebody Just Shoot Me… Thanks!

So, after the boy’s football game Friday night, I’m tired and I feel just nasty. I was full of Italian Ice, as I had engulfed like 5 during the game trying to cool of. I’d had sweat running from my neck, down my back, directly down my butt crack. That, my friends is not a nice feeling.

Even with feeling grody and tired, I still hoped to go home and get a little lovin after a nice cold shower. Know what I mean? I think ya do.

But, no. Why is it that I can never seem to get rid of both of teen-aged-mutants at the same time? Amanda, my girl, was spending the weekend at Jessie’s (the child that claims me as her other mother).
But, the boy couldn’t stand it, he had to stay home. Worse yet, he had to stay awake. So, we get home, I go take a shower and I go to bed…. to sleep.

Hell if I didn’t wake up early, before the boy. So, I poke Anthony and told him wake up and GET R DUN!!! Door was closed and I was under the blanket. I got too hot, so I go and throw/kick/pitch/toss the blanket in the floor.

Well, Anthony’s cell phone was in the livingroom. His phone rang. Matthew decided to answer it. Matthew decided that he would just bust into MY bedroom to tell his dad that Mario was on the phone.

Sweet Jesus. Now up until that point in life, I don’t believe anything has ever both made me absolutely furious and at the same time nearly given me a heart attack.
BUSTED!

This non-knocking problem we are having is getting a little bit on my nerves.
Admittedly, I am most likely the most sexual natured I know. I dig it. I want it.
I just can’t help it.

But even my horns are nipped in the bud knowing that kid is in the house lurking. There have been numerous times I’ve just decided to forego play time just because I’d hate to think about anybody else in the house knowing.

GRRR!!!! Can we say frustrated???

I mean, I swear, I think he has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing if and when we may be even considering having sex. It’s like he goes that extra mile to keep trying to drive a wedge of any kind between me and Anthony.

Makes me nervous to have anything in my room, let alone my happy drawer.
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Then this happened:

So, I get started to get over getting busted by the boy. And I go outside to start working on the cleaning out of the shed. This shed is barely a shanty. It is missing the bottom boards on the walls, so it’s wide open to anything and everything that wants in.

Ok, now there is a reason that shed was in the shape it was in. I don’t dig going in it and flat refused to go in it for three years.
Not to mention the fact that I’d seen various critters and rodents zipping in and out of there. *shiver*.

But, the time had come. We have a week to be getting all of my crap up and out of the house. Which means the shed had to be cleaned too.
I get the broom, the hair spray and my lighter and head out back where the shed stands.

I stand outside, looking to see what sort of arachnid may be lurking up above my head or down below my feet. Ewwww. Dark, scary and spider infested.

So, I finally take the broom, poke it inside the shed and start swingin like a wild woman at whatever might be in my path. When I didn’t feel that was enough, I took the hairspray and lighter and started blow torching anything that appeared to be an insect of any sort. The smell of sizzling spiderwebs is a lovely one.

My spider problem apparently taken care of, I forge ahead. Looking at the piles of shit that were piled into this shed nearly three years ago when I moved into the house. I decided that if it had been in the shed for damn near three years and not missed, that it wasn’t ever going to be missed. Rahter than digging through the boxes, I hauled them right out to the bed of the truck. Locked and loaded for the Knox County dump.

I had gotten most of the crap our, when I thought I heard something. It was a rustling around sound. I stopped and assessed what it might be. I didn’t see anything. So, I turned around to get another box and IT ran over my foot.

Well, I’ll swear I thought it was a 2 foot rat. After nearly having the second heart attack of the day and hearing IT run into a window thinking it was a way out of the shed, I saw it. A baby rabbit.

Still when I’m confined in an icky space where I’m already paranoid, I don’t even want the cutest of furry woodland creatures hippity-hopping over my foot.

Fat From the Feeding Frenzy

Drama, drama, drama. Some of us tire of hearing it over and over. However, there are many, many folks out there who do nothing but sit and wait for drama, any drama, to happen.

They feed on what they are fed until a new feeding frenzy starts up.
Honestly, since Monday, how much have you heard about Anna Nicole and her circus of drama?

Not much, huh? Because the new frenzy has started. They’ll run the Virginia Tech angle into the ground until the next huge blog of drama drops into the laps of the media.

It’s not a new deal… to exploit the sorrow, sadness, tragedy of others.

• Diana & Dodi
• JFK Jr. & party
• The D. C. Sniper
• Jennifer “Runaway Bride” Wilbanks

Who cares?? Not me, but apparently lot of folks get sucked into huge drama to escape from their own.