Hmmmm...THAT explains a lot.

I have determined tonight that I cannot watch porn and cook dinner at the same time.  I think that's going to be my new saying.  Like when people say, "I can't walk and chew gum at the same time".
"My goodness she gets distracted."
"Yeah...I don't think she could watch porn and cook at the same time!"  
So, how was I able to come to this conclusion, do you ask? Well...it's very simple really.  I was watching porn and trying to broil some veggie burgers. DUH.

Actually, it went a little something like this:
Last night, Mike and I were sitting at my kitchen table. The subject of porn came up while we were talking about the video on Tosh.0, appropriately named Stripper Soaker. He found it gross and I will admit, the only thing I thought of when I saw the video was that I wanted to see it without the body parts blacked out. (And wondered how she did that of course)  He told me that the first pornographic movie he ever saw was pretty graphic (there were fists involved).  So in turn I, not so reluctantly, confessed that I had watched my first porn when I was at the ripe old age of 11 or 12.  One that I found hidden in a box in a closet (thanks dad).  I was not disturbed at all.  I was quite intrigued.  I watched the whole thing and got my first ever feeling of: oh my god. why am I watching this? I can't look away. holy crap I hope someone doesn't walk in on me while this is on!  
I still remember the damn video.  It was from the 70's.  There was a lady that kept her freakin' neck scarf on while she did the nasty.  And she did the nasty with several men, including the standard black man with an afro and...her "niece".  There was not a lot of waxing that went on and all the boobs were real.  There was even some naked hot tubbing.  I googled today in an effort to make sure I had the name right and come to find out, this just wasn't some chick that kept her scarf on.  She was famous!  So...yeah.  I actually did find the video that I watched several times over the course of my pre-teen/teen years. And I watched it again, 20 years later. And I got entirely distracted, then burnt my veggie burgers.
Mike says that it explains a lot about some things.  I don't know what he's talking about.  I thought all women had an insane infatuation for men with mustaches, hairy chests, naked hot tubbing, and...fudgesicles.

If You Don't Like Them, My Boyfriend Will Donkey Punch You.



Presenting: The Irish Car Bomb Cupcake

 I am not a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker.  I tell you, though, after my baking excursions last night, I surely needed a tub after I was finished.
I don't bake from scratch and now I remember why.  I've been excited about baking these damn cupcakes since I found the recipe online a few weeks ago.  Like, jump up and down excited.  I ordered pizza to be delivered last night, so I didn't have to worry about dinner, opened up a Guinness, had the music going, and got to work.  "Woo hoo!!! Cupcakes!!!"
 4 fucking hours later, I was ready to scream, rip my hair out, then pass out in my clothes on my bed.   I did stop during points because I ended up not having enough butter, had to go find some, and had to vent and whine to Mike a little. Oh...and I had kids coming into the kitchen needing something every 5 fucking minutes.  Let's not forget that.  There was no yield on the recipe, so I...being the genius that I am...doubled it.  Holy batter, Batman!  I ended up making 52 of those suckers, which ended up being a good thing, because I burnt the bottoms of the first batch.  Here's what I learned during my escapade:

1.  Don't double the recipe.  Just make 24 god damn cupcakes.
2.  Sifting dry ingredients together sucks.  Especially when you don't own sifter.
3.  Don't worry about drinking too much while baking...it COULD make the situation a lot happier.  I, obviously, did not drink enough.
4.  It's best NOT to use margarine in your buttercream.  They don't call it BUTTERcream for nothin'.
5.  SugarFree vanilla flavoring for coffee works wonderfully when you run out of vanilla extract.
6.  If you don't own cooling racks, the bottom rack from the oven sitting on top of a roaster pan works like magic.
7.  Do not try to make buttercream with a cheap $6 hand mixer.  It will burn up the mechanics and it will no longer mix...ANYTHING.
8.  Trying to whisk your buttercream by hand to the right consistency sucks more than sifting.
9.  Getting a ganache to the right consistency is harder than the internet tells you.
10.  Buy the bigger bags for piping the icing.  Always buy the bigger bags.
11.  I am one hell of a messy baker.

Regardless of all of this, the cupcakes are delicious.  And they look pretty.  Everyone says they are awesome.  Which, they better...because Mike said, and I quote:
"I had no doubt about your baking ability and I hope that EVERYONE truly appreciates the sacrifice that you made so that they could have some of your alcoholic based baked goods. Or I will donkey punch them. I love you very much dear."  Booyah!
You better like those cupcakes.

So, here's to chocolate-Guiness-whiskey cupcakes, with Bailey's buttercream, and a whiskey ganache.  Now let's go enjoy ourselves and call ourselves Irish!

Breathing Might Be Overrated, but Being Loved Is Not.

Mike and I are working on it.  The Sunday after our breakup, I had to go drop off some things to him and found myself not wanting to leave and thinking possibly that we were making a huge mistake.  That night I texted him that I wanted him to come over Monday night.  I think it was all part of a (somewhat) evil plan of his:
1. Make sure she's really sad and crying...A LOT. - check.
2. Tell her to come over. - check.
3. Tell her you don't want her to leave. - check.
4. Offer her your sleeve to blow her nose on and touch her face gently when you kiss her. - check.
5. Text her incessantly afterwards and tell her how much you love her. - check!
She's yours, dude. You got this. Go get her back!

Really, it wasn't like that (much)...the important thing is that we love each other and two people shouldn't be so miserable apart when they could work on it and stay together.  So, we're trying.
It's amazing the amount of unsolicited advice one gets when they are having troubles in the relationship department (not to be confused with the "Children's Department", which shuts down for brief periods every month...because my body is like a mall or something to my boyfriend, but we'll discuss that another time).  I got advice from friends, coworkers, my children, and a boy or two....including, but not limited to...
"But why, Mom??  You had happiness..."
"You know how you tell me that sometimes when friends spend too much time together, they start to get cranky and fight a lot? Maybe it's like that."
"If you think it's a mistake, go back to him."
"I don't know if I could deal with that. I plan on getting married, but when I do, I'm going to have my own residence."
"Honey, all men are needy."
"You can't change a person.  Love everything that is good about them, accept the things you don't necessarily like, and realize they are who they are.  If you are changing to try to suit a person or you are wanting to change THEM, something is wrong."

It came down to the fact that I was devastated and regardless of everything, I knew that I needed his love. It is quite possible that I would never again find someone that loves me like he does. For some reason, the Facts of Life theme song is running through my head.  "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have..."
Mike got advice of his own, of which I am unaware...except for the anonymous person who commented on his blog that there would be another fried chicken stand to eat at.  Hmmmm.  Seems as though Mike's blog isn't the only one this person reads? (Hi there anonymous person! Thanks for reading my blog, too!)
Anyway.
Mike sent me a dozen long-stemmed roses today at work and we have a date tonight. Why? Because he loves me.  And I am his heart. And he doesn't want to eat at any other fried chicken stand.  This chicken is TASTY. Ask him...
I can also provide references, if necessary.

Fin.

I can't breathe and my heart feels like it is going to burst. I'm a blubbering mess who can't catch her breath; breathing is probably overrated, anyway.  It's one o'clock in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas, sitting on my bed surrounded by balled up, snotty bits of toilet paper.  It really isn't a pretty picture.  I'll have moments where I think I'm ok, I'll stop crying, I'll be able to take a deep breath, calm myself...but it only takes a split second of me remembering something, some insignificant little thing, and I'm right where I began.  Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle--it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key.  It's not an act of bitterness.  It's an act if self-preservation, but this is only day one.  I should allow myself to feel this.  Eventually, I'll move on to thinking of things that were causing frustration,  that I thought I couldn't live with, to try to make myself better.  Even that may not work, because the sweet loving memories that will stab at my heart and make my eyes swell far outnumber the negative ones.  We talked this morning about the fact that what makes this even more sad is the fact that there is still love there.  It's not a bad breakup, with fighting, arguments, or ill will.  Something just wasn't right.  I couldn't look him in the eye last night and honestly tell him that this relationship was what I wanted.  I tried to hang on, but I ended up forcing it and made things worse.  Maybe he's right and one day, 6 months from now, I'll tell him that I was wrong and that I want to come back. 


For today, I'm glad I have a bottle of wine in my fridge.  I don't want to be the sad girl with the puffy eyes wandering around the grocery store, lost, scanning the aisles for something to numb the pain.  There is something so cliche about eating ice cream after a break up, but oddly enough, the thought had crossed my mind.  I have also just discovered my need for more toilet paper.  I guess I should have checked my supply before I started crying all over the place.  

Drunks With a Camera Meet the Don Juan of Lesbians...and other adventures.

I haven't been writing! I don't know if it is a lack of things to say or a general lack of interesting things going on.
First, I must update everyone on the Valentine's Day situation with Little Man and Shannon.  She's a bitch.  Enough said.  Really, though...my sweet boy finally got up the nerve to ask her.  She said that she couldn't go because she had a club meeting the same day as the dance and wasn't able to.  He decided to go anyway without her.  When I asked him how it went, this was the response I got:  "Well, I was having a really great time mom....until I saw her there...".  I swear my heart broke into a million bits.  I came up with every excuse I could to make him feel less rejected.  That's not what he wanted, though.  What he really wanted to know was whether or not he should go up to her the next day and say, "So how was your CLUB yesterday??".  I advised against him being a little jerk.

So, this past weekend was a long one and I needed it.  I actually had 5 days off.  I took 2 extra days to spend some time with my sister, Tattooed and Organic (aka Freddie), and my cousin (aka Flossie) who were coming into town.  Thursday was spent with sister and mom.  I got my hair done (I got bangs! I look 13!), we did lunch, and shopped to our hearts content.  I finally found a hairdresser that I like.  It's been years since I've had one.  She is a zombie loving, tattooed, wild child and is just right.  Our conversation consisted of her trying to convince me not to wash my hair as often as I do and that I should go into Roller Derby.  I said I like to skate, but I'm just not aggressive enough.  "Oh, we'll teach you to be aggressive, sweetie."

Hmmmm...I'm thinking about it.

Friday was spent at my tattoo shop of choice, Red Handed Tattoo Gallery, finishing off my chest tattoo. My mother, myself, sister, and cousin were all there.  Telling you that we pretty much took over the shop while we were there would be an understatement.  My work took the majority of the day.  Sometimes I wonder what, Chance, my tattooer thinks of the fact that every time I get work done, I have a barrage of girl visitors that come in and proceed to divulge the details of their sex lives. (It's the only time I seem to get my girl talk in!)  I like to think that most of the time he is tuning us out.  Hopefully.
Anyway...the wine was flowing, there was beer drinking, cupcakes, babies, laughing, tattoos drawn up on dollar bills in a sushi bar, and a very expensive camera.  Drunken debauchery ensued, until some sort of stomach bug caught up with Flossie, and I had to take them home.  For reasons not needing to be mentioned, we deduced that it was not the alcohol.  Saturday we met for dinner at Firefly, because quite honestly, they have sangria and mojitos that are to die for...and they're sold by the pitcher, which is even more delightful.  It gets crowded, but is sooo worth it.  I came in, looking through the crowds of people, trying to find my dinner dates, when I was approached by a female server.  She proceeded to tell me how much she liked chest tattoos, open up my shirt to take a closer gander, ask me where I was from, then tell me how much she liked the South.  You know that feeling when you walk away from a conversation, asking yourself, "Was I just being hit on?".  Yeah.  That about covers it.  My girls were at the bar, joined by an odd looking fellow who I had never met.  When Flossie whispered that they didn't know him and she had almost put her fist in his face, I took it upon myself to make him go away.  He was hurt, until he found two other ladies to have a drunken convo with.  We were able to finally get our table...and guess who our server was?  Mandi.  The chick who looks at chest tattoos because it is "just another way to check out someone's chest". She actually did describe herself as the Don Juan of Lesbians.  She was cute, and a flirt, and looked like Shane from "The L Word" (who I had a major crush on when I used to watch the show), and made us all feel like we were the only girls in the place...until she got distracted and went to another table to flirt/serve/make another woman's night. 

The TV version of Mandi

She loooooved Flossie's accent.  In fact, after we left, we went to the tattoo shop to get Flossie's tattoo, then went back for a few more rounds (of drinks and of hanging with Mandi).  We stayed until closing, turned down Mandi's request to go out for drinks, but left with her number.  She was disappointed when she didn't get to go out Sunday and see Freddie and Flossie before they went home.  I'm sure she found someone else to flirt with, though.  I'll be returning for some Sex in Jamaica with Mandi for sure.  (We developed a new name for the mojitos we were drinking...but I gotta throw an innuendo in here somewhere!)  Hopefully I made a new friend.  I mean, I may not have an accent, but I have a chest tattoo that I'll let her look at...that should count for something.
I didn't get to see them before they left for home either.  Freddie and Flossie are gone now and I miss the laughter.  I don't think I ever laugh as much as I do with them.  Hopefully we don't have to wait another 11 years to all be in the same room again.

That smile? I'm intaxicated.

Intaxication: The initial euphoria a person feels upon receiving their tax refund, usually diminishing when they realize it was their money in the first place.

There is a major upside to being a single mom in the United States.  Tax time.  Just saying it makes my heart skip a little beat!  Getting that money at the beginning of the year creates a feeling of elation that is not comparable to anything else on Earth.  Not love, not food, not drugs, not alcohol, not orgasms...NOTHING.  Single moms know exactly what I'm talking about.  Some of us struggle more than others, but we're all in the same boat.  All year long, we constantly have to tell ourselves or our children that we can't have this or that, there's not enough money, maybe another time, maybe with my next paycheck...it hurts.  But then it's January.  And like a miracle from beer drinking Jesus, the heavens open and shower money upon us.  Glorious, floaty, papery green things falling upon our gracious heads...and the world changes.  We are ballers.  That's right.  BALLERS, I say! 

Evidently, money also makes me black, but that's cool. Just call me Ms. Tee.

Yes, it's our money to begin with and it is rightfully ours...and yes, we'll use it for practical things like clothes/shoes for our kids, putting money into our vehicles, paying off bills or getting caught up on things that have been put off as much as possible all year long...but who gives a shit?  We also get to treat ourselves a little.  We deserve it.

So, whether you are a single mom or not...whether you get $100 back or several thousand...enjoy your intaxication!  I will enjoy mine while it lasts.  There is something about having to put most of your money into your truck and into paying off various judicial systems that brings you down from your high, so to speak.  Oh well!  Myself and my loved ones still benefit, even if it's just a little...and me not walking around stressed out is a gift in itself.  When the chicken is not happy, the coop suffers dearly, you know?

When the Sickness Comes to Town...

Little man has a cold.  I thought it was bordering on the flu for a minute...he was running a high fever for almost two days.  I am amazed at the great kid he is becoming.  He is very independent and our existence usually goes something like: "Hi, Mom! I'm going to So-and-so's house! Bye!", he comes home when he's supposed to, which is followed by "What's for dinner?", followed by his door shutting as he goes off to his little world filled with South Park (Yes, he watches South Park, as long as he doesn't watch it in front of his sister or repeat anything from the show in her presence) and Lego's.  This is interspersed with bouts of preteen angst when he doesn't get his way or his sister has been in his room.  I still don't know how he knows when someone has been in his room with the mess that is going on in there.  I can tell when someone has moved something in my room, though, so I guess he gets that from me.
Anyway, Little Man has been super lovey lately and since he's been sick, it has been a constant stream of hugs and "I Love You"s in my house.  It's great.  Last night, after we watched a movie and Mini-Me had ventured into her room to watch whatever crap was on the Disney channel, Little Man confided that he had something to tell me.  Turns out that there is a dance at his school next week for Valentine's Day and he couldn't go unless he had a date.  Which I don't think is exactly true...he let it slip that all his friends had dates and he didn't.  He and I spent the next hour hanging out, talking about Shannon (the girl in his 3rd period class that is always staring at him), and how he was embarrassed to ask her to the dance.  I helped him write a note to her (in case he lost his nerve), said it wouldn't be the end of the world if she says no and confirmed that if she doesn't have a date yet, it was because she just might be waiting on him to ask her...the whole thing was freakin' adorable.  Especially the part where he stated that "getting girls in middle school is A LOT harder than it was in elementary school".
He's going to be a lady killer...just like his dad...and that scares me a little.  When his father was 13, he already had a mustache and was juggling 3 girls that were older than him.  Yikes.  I have a year and a half to instill some lessons on wooing and treating girls like ladies (ONE lady at a time) into this kid.  It's possible. 
He was excited to go to school and talk to Shannon.  "Do you think my fever will be gone so I can go back to school??"  I told him I didn't know.  I gave him some medicine and got him settled on the couch with his OJ.
"Stupid gay fever.  I bet it's prancing around his tank top and flip flops, throwing around his flowers and infecting me right now!"
Now, I hate when people use the word "gay" as an adjective to describe something that is bad, unpleasant, or something that they don't like.  Can't stand it!  And using the word gay and infecting in the same sentence would have sent me over the edge in some cases...had it not been so damned funny.
He woke up this morning and was a little better, but still not well enough to sit in school all day.  Hopefully Shannon doesn't get herself a date before tomorrow.

Someone Please Tell Me Where the Fuck I Put My Friends.

When we start to change as people and lose touch with friends, what do you think we mourn for? The loss of important people in our lives or are we mourning for the loss of ourselves and the person we used to be?

I miss my friends.

Oddly enough, I was thinking about this on the way to work this morning.  I had a horrible headache and I was trying to get to work as quickly as possible, so I could get some water and Ibuprofen in me...when it dawned on me.  When is the last time I hung out with my friends??  I'm barely even on Facebook anymore.  It's like I have dropped off the face of the planet.  I realized many, many months ago that there are people that I am just naturally growing apart from.  Recently, though, I've lost touch with people that I didn't want to stop hanging out with.  I'm still trying to decide if I really am actually changing or if I'm just preoccupied in BoyfriendLand.

Then...low and behold...SailorGirl called me out on it this morning.  "We haven't been talking anymore Ms. IHaveABoyfriendNow..." Really? Did I become that girl?  Don't we ALL become that person, though, at some point?  When we are dating someone new, and especially if we really like them, we end up spending all our free time with them in the hopes of getting to know them better...and because we miss them when we are apart?  Or am I crazy? But she's right. I haven't been keeping in touch at all.  I didn't mean to ignore anyone.

I think I am really needing some socialization.  I do that.  It must be my Cancer tendencies...I retreat into my shell for awhile, until I'm ready to come back out again.  I'm in need of a girls' night. I am also in need of a tattoo session. Sailor Girl is going in for some work and I may go get a little something and spend some time with her...until my other tattoo buddy gets here.

Hurry up, Tattooed and Organic and get your ass out here!!  I miss you!

Slugbug Orange! or Holy Shit, I Can't Eat Another Bite or...You Got Powned!

Definition courtesy of Urban Dictionary
Pown: To display ones superior skill against an adversary by defeating them in a loud and obvious manner.
"I powned you, bitch! Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I AM A COUNTER-STRIKE GOD!!"

I learned this word from Adam, Mike's youngest son.  He's 13 and despite Mike's best effort, I totally fell in love with the word and used it incessantly, encouraging Adam to the fullest.  Oops.  I just discovered that it is a widely used term in the gaming world...go figure.

So, I just spent 3 days in Salt Lake City, UT (or SL,UT if you wish) and it was a much needed and much enjoyed break from my regular day to day existence.  The food fest trip began on Thursday night.  We took Greyhound, which wasn't that bad of an experience.  I didn't mind it other than I just don't sleep well on a freaking bus.  It took us about 8 hours.  I got to sit next to a lovely gentleman with a deep voice and a presence that gave me the willies.  No, it was not Mike.  He was seated comfortably behind me in his TWO seats.  Eh...it wasn't that big of a deal.  It happens when a shitload of people are on a bus together.  I can't blame him for wanting to sit next to my loveliness.
We arrived on Friday morning and had a full day of sightseeing and such.  First of all, my fucking camera died on Day 1, which totally blew and pissed me off, because I like to take pictures of EVERYTHING.  We went to Trolley Square and looked around the shops.  I found an amazing hand-hammered wok at Williams Sonoma for $19.95.  I'm getting that sucker this weekend.  I found other things in a novelty store that caught my eye that I'll be procuring on my next visit.  We then visited Gilgal Gardens, where my assumption that Mormons are odd was confirmed.  We drove The Avenues and looked at the historic homes in the area.  After picking up Adam from school, we headed to lunch, then to Big Cottonwood Canyon for a snowball fight.  The scenery was beautiful.  As many times as I have said that I couldn't live in a city with a lot of snow, I really enjoyed myself.  I liked the snow and the weather.  My opinion would probably change after months of being in the cold, I'm sure.  We also went out to dinner with Mike's parents.  Yes...I like them and we got along splendidly...even though Mike did mention to his mother my love of tubesteak.  No joke.  They make me laugh.  Mike, Adam, and I also went to Leatherby's after dinner for some ice cream.  Holy Shit, I couldn't eat another bite.  Until we went to breakfast the next morning, of course.
Saturday I woke up wanting a shower and just basically feeling like shit after all the food I had shoved down my throat the day before.  After a week of basically eating NOTHING to eating everything put in front of you, it can do a real number on your digestive system.  Truly.  We ventured back out for more sightseeing, with me showerless and with a rock or 10 in my stomach.  I was feeling dirty and like crap (or needing to take one), Mike could see that something was wrong, I didn't want to dwell on it (aka - talk about it at all).  We ended up having a...something.  I don't even know what to call it.  It really wasn't a fight, I guess, but feelings were hurt on both sides, we weren't getting along and I cried in a bathroom stall.  Things got better, so it's all good.  I took many a shit that day, we saw Temple Square and The Gateway, Adam purchased a hat that looked like a bear, I got my shower, then we had dinner with Mike's BFF.  No ice cream that night.  Thank you Baby Jesus.
Sunday the sky cleared and I was able to see the mountains.  We had a fantastic breakfast and drove out to see the lake.  Sunday was a relaxed day.  We had to say goodbye to Adam and get to the bus station for our ride home.  The ride back was much better than the ride there.  I had more room and slept a little. 
I'm looking forward to next time.

Mike said this trip was a learning experience and I have to agree.  First trips together always are.  I have more to write on this, but it will be from home instead of work.  My laptop is out of commission and I think I need the quiet of late-night writing...so whenever stupid Amazon will get me my charger...but I digress.

 

Mimosas: Not just for brunch anymore!

Buuuuurp.  There was a full bottle of champagne and OJ in my fridge just waiting to mate, in the hopes of making me a delicious beverage.  They succeeded.  I did not think ahead to the fact that I definitely need at least one other person to help me finish off this bottle.  As of 12am, I am not supposed to drink alcohol for a month.  I've done it before, without even realizing it, so I'm sure I will make it just fine.
New Years Eve (that's right Mike, I made it plural) has come and gone.  It was delightful.  Me, Mike, Alex (Mike's oldest), Little Man, and Mini-Me hung out at home.  We cooked food, played Guitar Hero, and watched the fireworks from the Strip at midnight.  The next day we went hiking near Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam.  My mom came along and a good time was had, even though what was supposed to be a 4.5 mile round trip hike turned into about 8 miles.
So, I have talked about how excited I am to begin a new year and it is so true.  I was inspired to make some changes with myself regarding how I spend my time and with who in 2010.  That conscious decision ended up leading me to Mike.  He is the kind of man that I had been searching for, but telling myself I would never find.  We've already started talking about our future together and I don't think anything has ever felt so right.  If I continue to make the right choices for myself and my family, who knows what other spectacular things will happen?   I plan on finding out this year.
In the spirit of 2011, here are 11 goals that I would like to accomplish this year.  Some are simple, some are life changing, and some are just things that I should have done or should be doing but have not for one reason or another.

1. Lose 80 lbs by the end of 2011
     I made the decision to complete a 28 day challenge, where I will basically cleanse my body of toxins and take steps to live a healthier life, mentally and physically.  It begins by cutting out dairy, red meat, eggs, alcohol, sugar, gluten, caffeine and all processed foods. Slowly, certain foods can be brought back in to my daily intake, should I choose to do so.  I will also go back to a daily exercise routine, which also includes yoga and meditation.  I wanted to do this because I felt the need to be healthier.  Weight loss is going to be an obvious side effect of this drastic change, so I made a goal of it.  I'm taking my goal 10 lbs at a time and rewarding myself with 8 lovely presents after I reach each one. (Mainly because I love gifts)
The only difference between this time and several years ago, when I did the same thing, will be that this time I will actually stay with the program.  All the crap that I have been putting into my body is literally bogging me down and making me feel like a pile of shit.  I'm over it.
2. Have family pictures taken
     I have never had them taken.  At first, it was because I didn't want to document a "family" that really wasn't.  The past few years that it's been just the kids and I, it has been plain procrastination.  I have found an amazing photographer and I'll have pictures taken of the kids and I this spring.  It has proven time to get this done, given that by the end of this year we'll be adding others into our group of three.  And then there were six.
3. Realize when I am procrastinating and actively take steps to correct it
4. Re-enroll and begin attending massage therapy school
     It's time to make the life I envisioned for myself a reality and get out of a fucking office.
5. Put money out of EVERY paycheck into savings.
6. Surround myself with positive people who enhance my life in some way.
7. Find my creativity again and begin a hobby that reflects it.
8. Commit to having at least one night of one-on-one time with my children every month.
9. Live out of my box.  Create adventure and conquer fear.
     "Say it a million times. Say it a million more times. Then the word that you will have said 2 million times is...YES!"  I am pretty good about trying new things.  There are certain things that I am not willing to do, such as go to Alaska and live in a bus in the wilderness, fighting for my survival (Never say "Never" though, right?)...I would just like to be a little more adventurous this year.  Going to school and taking steps to a better me are great starts, but I want to be able to say "WOW! I can't believe I just did that!" (and not in a regretful type of way).  My boss plans on skydiving for her 70th birthday.  Her adventure just happens to fall on the weekend of my birthday.  I am going to join her and jump out of a plane.
10.  Be more scheduled.
     I used to be very good at this and I still am to some extent, but I have been free-spirited lazy the past few years.  I think this is because I haven't been able to find a happy middle ground.  I am either completely OCD, drill sergeant structured or...I fly completely by the seat of my pants and take the "I'll get to it when I feel like it" approach.  This is something I need to work on.
11. Go to Color Me Mine and pick up the mugs that Mike and I painted, so I can have a memento of our first date together! What the eff!  It's been more than 2 months! (See goal #3)






     

The Adventures of Mini-Me and Sugar Free!

Mini-Me finally made a friend.  I've been waiting on this day since she started school.  There are plenty of kids who live in our neighborhood and I had faith that she would befriend one of the girls, hopefully before the end of the freakin' school year and hopefully not one of those shady little bitches that I wouldn't mind "accidentally" running over with my truck.  But enough about me and my fantasies of killing little brats...(I kid! I kid!)
I had been noticing the last few weeks that Mini-Me had been spending more time with one particular girl.  She was sweet and polite.  Her and Mini-Me had become inseparable.  I came home Wednesday night, a

That's just pure sweetness, isn't it?

little anxious because I wanted to make sure I had everything for dinner on Thanksgiving.  The house was a wreck.  Sugar Free all but forced Mini-Me to help me clean the living room, so when they bombarded me with their plan of a spend-the-night, I was feeling generous.  "Of course she can spend the night!".  We then went through the formalities of me meeting her mom, getting her number, etc.  She was a nice lady.  She's a single mom, too.  We chatted about the brats in the neighborhood.  Never ONCE did she mention that this was Sugar-Free's first sleepover...EVER.  That would be a nice side-bar, don't you think?  "Hey...just letting you know, Sugar-Free has never spent the night away from home..."
Anyway, the girls were getting along splendidly.  We settled in to watch Prince of Persia with everyone and stuff our faces with the platter of various sugary items that Mike had brought over.  Mike's son and my kids dug in like the Gremlins they are, but Sugar Free sat in the corner, practically hiding behind the couch.  Mini-Me and I urged her to take a cookie.  Suddenly, Sugar Free became that child that will only communicate through their friend.  Amongst hands covering ears and whispers behind my couch, Mike and I were informed by Mini-Me that Sugar Free's mom doesn't like her to have sugar at night.  She is not allowed to have more than 50g a day.  At this point, I'm thinking, "Well I don't see your mom anywhere...have a fucking cookie."  I insist that it's ok to have one cookie, that she's at my house and I don't mind.  She asks how many grams of sugar are in the one cookie, like I know that shit by heart.  Have you seen my ass?  I don't pay attention to how much sugar is in ANYTHING.  So, I ask Mike..."Honey, how many grams of sugar are in each cookie?".
"Five.  So you can have 10 cookies!!"
Have I mentioned how awesome he is?  He and I cracked up.  Then, Little Miss Sugar-Free stands up and Mini-Me announces that she is going home.  She doesn't want to spend the night anymore.  Sugar-Free is scared.  Whatever.  It's not like we were trying to give her crack or anything.

She was back the next day...first thing in the morning.  Did I mention she has my phone number?  She calls it constantly.  Her mom was working on Thanksgiving, so I graciously invited her to eat with us.  She hung out most of the day, except of course during the time that Mini-Me and her were not friends anymore...for about 10 minutes.  Seems Mike's son and Mini-Me were playing a little game of lock Sugar-Free in the bathroom.  Mini-Me and I had to have a little talk about what a pussy her friend is and that she can't play with her like she does her brother.  She sat silently through me asking what she wanted on her plate.  I got head shakes of yes and no.  She wouldn't drink anything...not even water.  I had mentioned that I was going to make her mom a plate, so I wasn't very surprised when she comes marching out of Mini-Me's room stating that her mom wants "everything".  This girl must be bi-polar!  First, she won't speak to anyone, then she's Miss Bossy Brat from Hell.  I fixed her mom a plate like a good minion should, then gladly sent Mini-Me over to spend the night.  She ended up staying over there two nights in a row, but they went back and forth between houses all day long, ALL WEEKEND.  Between bouts of "I'm not her friend!" and "I want to go see Sugar-Free!" and "Is Mini-Me there?  Can I talk to her?", I didn't think I was going to get away from this girl.  At one point I had forbidden Mini-Me to play with Sugar-Free because they were doing what all kids do when they spend too much time together...fight.  A lot.  We went most of Sunday without any interaction between the two.  Things were calm.  Then, I come home to this last night:

"Sugar-Free's mom HATES ME!!!!!!!"

I tried to get a straight answer out of Mini-Me, but it wasn't happening.  Evidently, Sugar Free's mom told Mini-Me she needed to go home.  Mini-Me swears up and down that her and Sugar-Free weren't fighting.

Yeah right.

I told Mini-Me that she can't play with Sugar-Free until the weekend.  We'll see how long that lasts.  Sugar-Free called my phone a couple times last night...I didn't pick up.  I'm sure she probably called my mom's phone too...somehow she ended up with that number. Sheesh.  I also didn't mention that over the weekend she tried to talk Mini-Me into swindling me out of half a pie that my mom made.  Sugar-Free my ass!

Side note:  Do you know how hard it is to find pictures of little girls fighting?  There are none.  I did, however, find tons of grown naked women mud wrestling.

Chickens Drink When They Cook.

Going back to work after a long holiday weekend has to be one of the most horrible things on the face of the planet. Not really, but it is beyond difficult for me to get excited about going back to the normal grind.


My weekend was extremely enjoyable and I think that makes it even harder to shift back into “work mode”. I have “modes”. Evidently, my shifting from one to the other is much more noticeable than I thought. Michael instantly recognizes my shifts, which is almost unnerving. I’m not sure if it makes me more uncomfortable that I wear my emotions so obviously on my face and in my mannerisms or that he has gotten to know me so well in such a short period of time. I take that back. It does not make me uncomfortable that Michael can read me so well. It, like most things he does, warms me from the inside out. We spent most of the weekend together, which like ending a holiday, makes it even more difficult to go back to our normal routine of not seeing each other for days at a time.

Our weekend began on Wednesday night. Michael and one of his sons stayed at my house until Friday morning. Our days together were filled with movies, enough sugar to kill several small children (except Mini-Me’s new friend…she’ll be mentioned in another blog), laughs, a cute little-girl crush, cooking, kisses, conversation, jokes, Nerf guns, my mother, and awesome pie. My mother loves Mike and his son. So much so that she left dinner early. What? Yes. That is what I said. She called me Friday morning to inform me of three things:

1. She had a wonderful time.

2. She left early because she wanted Mike and our families to have more time together. She was unaware that they were spending the night. (She didn’t bring it up at dinner, otherwise I would have told her)

3. She absolutely loves Mike and his son. I think it was the manners that got her. We Southern women are suckers for a “please, thank you, let me get that for you” kind of man. Both he and his son are like that. Oh, and don’t let me forget…"I’m not trying to get ahead of myself or anything, but WHEN you and Mike get married, I realized that both his sons names start with ‘A’, so when his sons become my grandsons, he’s not messing up anything! Isn’t that soooo cool?!” (Its tradition to name each generation of children with the same letter in my family. Both my kids are A’s as well)
OH MY GOD. Did she really just go there?? Did I hear her right?
Thanks mom. Next you’ll tell me that I’m not getting any younger.

I have such a whirlpool of thoughts swirling in my head that I may have to do a blog every day this week, devoting each day to a separate subject. Truly.
I hope everyone had just as much of an amazing weekend as I did. I didn't ruin dinner!  And I didn't get drunk (on Thursday)!  There was a child quote, but now I don’t remember what it was. It was fucking hilarious when I heard it and I told myself to remember it for my blog.  Oh well. I really need to be one of those annoying people that carry a notebook and write down their thoughts and interesting things they hear.

Time to slaughter some turkey, bitches!




Fuck yes! Doesn't he look excited?!  The kid, I mean...

 Yes, it's that time of year again.  Honestly, I can't believe it is already Thanksgiving and getting closer to Christmas everyday.  It may be freaking me out a little.  I am looking forward to many things on this holiday.  First, the long break - obviously.  This work week is only 2 1/2 days for me and I will enjoy the much needed days off to spend with friends and family.  Second, spending Thanksgiving with my mom and boyfriend.  I honestly can't remember how many years it has been since I have spent a Thanksgiving with my mother and having her in Las Vegas now is a great addition to this year's festivities.  Having Mike with us is as well.  He already got to meet my little absent minded mom briefly, not too long ago.  She likes him, he likes her, he likes my accent that magically appears when I talk to her...it will be fabulous.  Third, I will be making dinner this year.  I have not made Thanksgiving dinner for a group since I was with my ex and I am so looking forward to it.  I dreaded holidays with him and having my home bustling with people, feeding them and making them happy, is an amazing gift.  Warmth and love come to mind.  Too bad I don't have a real fireplace.  I had this vision of inviting everyone I knew that didn't have family and didn't have anywhere to go on Thanksgiving over to my house.  It is really a great idea and one year, when I have an actual house and not a small condo...I might just do that.  Or maybe I'll be ambitious next year.  I miss my domestic side.  Mike, poor thing, will get to see my OCD and need for control in full effect...but I guess it's good that we go ahead and get that out of the way.  I really rocked domesticity during the periods where I stayed home with the kids...when I wasn't fully depressed and in my pajamas all day. Heh.  Anyway...

In the spirit of Thanksgiving and conformity (since everyone else is doing it, too), I will list a few things that I am grateful for.  I tend to be an over-positive person and appreciate the little things, so I will try to stick to major things that I am thankful for this year and leave the little chipmunk that I see at work out of the mix.

My home and my job.  In this economy, I am so thankful that I was able to find this job with this group of amazing women.  It also led to me finally finding a home that I am so happy to be in...it is the first time that my kids have had their own rooms in forever and the first time that they have been in a place for more than 1 year since I don't remember when.  I am so glad that I am able to provide them with the stability they deserve.

Mine and my childrens' health. I don't think this needs any explanation.

Mike.  He showed up as Mr. Amazing, out of the blue, just when I was starting to think that there might not be a person in my near future that was meant just for me.  I never really understood that whole "he's my other half" soul mate stuff or when people talk about having an empty space inside or missing pieces or something.  I told myself it was total crap, but hoped that it wasn't every time I felt alone. Then he hugged me, took me to paint pottery, and fit himself right into my puzzle.  I don't think I will ever be the same.

My truck.  It is a beast of a vehicle.  It is ugly (in my eyes, it has character).  It is the most awesome truck ever.  It has given me no problems this year what-so-ever, no matter how much I beat it up and use the shit out of it.  I love that truck.  I am keeping my promise to give her the love and attention she deserves when I get my tax return next year.  Mama's gonna fix that body and make her all pretty again, I swear!

My friends.  That includes the ones that may have come into my life and left again, for whatever reason.  I am an accumulation of everyone that has crossed my path and if they are no longer around me, then hopefully I took away with me the lessons that I was supposed to learn.  But to all my constant friends, I love you.  Some of you I have known for years, but I feel like none of my friendships have blossomed more than they have in the last two years.  You guys make me laugh and my life wouldn't be the same without you.  I still am not sure how I ended up being labeled the wild one (ok. that's a flat-out lie.)  I think it's their fault.  Hehehe.

My mother.  Words cannot express how utterly fantastic it is to have her around.  We spend time together on a weekly basis and I am so glad that she is finding her niche in this city.  She is allowing me the gift of having family around and she is also allowing me to create a life for myself, as an individual, by graciously spending time with the kids when I need it.  We continue to build our mother/daughter relationship and I am thankful that she made the decision to move closer to me.

I think I may just leave it at that.  Those are very generic things to be thankful for, but for very good reasons.  I could have been creative and said vibrators, because beer-drinking Jesus knows that I have gotten good use out of those this year.  Or PBR, booty calls, Red Handed Tattoo Gallery, Facebook, men in general...
But I'm keepin' it clean.  Sort of.  Enjoy your Thanksgiving holiday!  Eat lots of dead animals, mass amounts of pie, get drunk with your family (whether it is for fun or just so you can stand being around them), enjoy your day off, and go topless at least once.  It's an order.  And send good vibes my way that I won't ruin Thanksgiving dinner. (hahaha. i said "vibes")

This one time, I was naked...

I got on Blogger the other day to obsessively check my stats (my page that tells me how many views I'm getting on my blog) and realized 2 things:

A.  I have had over 1,000 total views of my blog since I started it in what, August?  I am amazed!  Thank you.  I realize that some of these are people who may have been searching for a really great place to eat fried chicken in Las Vegas and my blog popped up on their Google search, but who cares?  I have a few loyal followers whom I appreciate very much and it completely supports my narcissistic side that everyone is so interested in the daily goings-on of my whimsical existence.

B.  I haven't written a blog in 10 days.  10 days?!  I am usually good for at least 2 a week!  I haven't quite gotten over my writer's block, I think.  Or it could be that my blog is usually an outlet for me to vent about things and I just haven't felt the need to.  Don't worry...I'm not going to go into some talk about how I can't stop thinking about Michael and how my life has become this cutesy, euphoric state of hearts and sparklies and rainbows....

Oh man, I miss him and his glorious sweet self....but I digress...

I have been told that I need to stick to funny today, so I shall.  My young friend, who I will call Sassy, said she wanted less of the falling in love crap and more of the meeting neighbors naked stuff.  Which led me to remember that I had mentioned that whole situation briefly in passing and never actually told the whole story.  I don't really even know if this story is funny anymore, honestly.  Gosh...I think it was the last time C2 and I actually spent time together...I think.  My mind is totally clouded with Michael. (I know. I can't stop talking about him.)  I had a night to myself and had gone over to C2's house for some drinks and topless swimming.  He has a large backyard with a pool and what I thought were non-nosey, non-existent neighbors.  I arrive, put on my swimsuit bottoms, parade right into the backyard (while C2 was making me a margarita) and dive into the pool.  Ahhhhhh.....I love swimming...I adore topless swimming.  I pop my head up and open my eyes, at which time I'm greeted by his neighbor popping his head over the back wall and watching me!  I was slightly taken aback!  I'm treading water in the middle of the pool, crossing my arms over my chest, as he introduces himself.  His name is Manny.  He asks me if I just bought the house and how much I paid for it.  I said it was my friend's house, that yes, it was a foreclosure...
"You're not topless, are you??"
Ummmmm....what do I say, here?  I should have said yes.  I know that now.  He probably would have left me alone.  I told him no. LOL.  He apologized for popping his head over and went back to his side of the wall.  I swam over to the side of the pool and was processing the whole thing, when, hello! Manny pops his head back over....
to introduce me to his friend.
I can imagine the conversation that went on in those 2 measly minutes.
"Dude. It was a chick in the pool and she's totally topless."
"No way!"
"Yes! Come look!"
"Are you fucking with me, man?"
"No! I swear! I met her!"
Luckily, I was still against the side of the pool, but at this point I pretty much said fuck it.  I had my arms out of the pool, hanging on the side, and carried on a nice conversation with the guys.  By the end, I had an open invitation to his house...he lives alone in that big house (he managed to work that into the conversation like 4 times).  And if I ever need absolutely anything...I can come to him.  Topless, of course.
They left, C2 came out with my drink, and I told him what happened.  I probably should have gotten out of the pool and gone over to Manny's house.  They enjoyed my toplessness, were much cuter than C2, and weren't complete assholes.  Oh well.

In a complicated twist today, I got a text from C1's wife.  All it said was "Hello".  On all days, it has to be the day that my phone isn't working because I haven't paid my bill.  This means that, strangely, I can get texts, but can't respond.  It seems like a cruel joke being played on me by the universe.  I knew I should have gone at lunch and made my payment.  What the hell does SHE want?  I don't know if I should even answer her.

So, tomorrow night I have Sailor Girl's birthday party to go to.  That should provide at least 1 or 2 good stories.  We also have Thanksgiving coming up next week...that's exciting.  Mike is meeting my mom for the first time, we're being all domestic and cooking dinner together, and I'm sure there will be a good kid quote in the mix somewhere.  Kid's faces say so much...especially the mouth part of the face. 
Updates to come soon, I assure you.

Cheap wine does wonders for writer's block.

Unfortunately, I don't have any, so I have been blocked.  I can't get the words out.  If I do somehow get words out, they don't sound right or it isn't exactly what I wanted to say.  Tonight I was able to tell someone exactly what they needed to hear.  "Regardless of where you are supposed to end up, where you are right now is exactly where you are supposed to be...for one reason or another".  Or something to that extent.  Astonishingly enough, these were the words that I have been trying to find for days.
This is exactly where I am supposed to be.
More importantly, This is exactly WHO I am supposed to be WITH.
I came to this realization days and days ago (I realize things way before I act on them).  There was another party that was slightly interested in getting to know me (other than Mr. Amazing).  I didn't mention him because (not to be rude), he was insignificant.  We began talking around the time that I met Mr. Amazing.  I never made the time to get to know him.  I didn't want to.  I was even honest and told him this.  He wanted to meet and I said I couldn't talk to him anymore - that I was dating someone else and ready to stop looking.  I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth (Actually, I typed them out. I had never even made the time to talk to this guy on the phone!)  This chicken, for the last two years, has had in the back of her mind that there is something better coming.  That whomever I was with wasn't it...that they were only stepping stones to someone else. Sorry guys.  Have you ever seen the movie "Practical Magic"? If you haven't, then I may dis-own you.  In the movie, Sally writes out a spell protecting herself from finding love.  She creates a list of traits for her perfect person, knowing that it is impossible that this person could ever exist.  I did this.  Not literally, but I was beginning to think that the kind of man I truly wanted (which seemed to be an impossible list of traits) didn't exist - that I would have to settle for just somebody or be alone forever.  In the end of the movie, of course the man she dreamt up when she was a child does really exist, he breaks the curse on her family, and she knows happiness like she never thought possible.
Michael (Mr. Amazing) is creating a happiness for me that I never thought possible.  I feel lit up from the inside when I am near him or when I hear his voice.  Something physically changes in me.  I cannot stop smiling.  I laugh like only my sister can make me laugh.  Yes, it is still new and we are still learning about one another...but something in me knows this is right.  I still ask myself how I found him, why he was brought to me, why? why? why?...in a series of questions that can't be explained, except for this reason only...that it was supposed to happen.  I am where I am supposed to be with who I am supposed to be with.
So, now I am in a relationship.  Mr. Amazing is my boyfriend.  I like the name Michael better.  It rolls off my tongue.  I will probably use both names.  This may mean that this blog may take a bit of a turn, but that doesn't mean much.  This may mean that I have delayed my spinsterhood a few years, but who knows.  I am living in the now.  Now is with Michael, who is still "wooing" me.  Who had wine and lit candles in his bedroom after our date on Saturday.  Who made me breakfast and thanked me for letting him take care of me.
I won't be the girl who just makes out a huge list of why her man is perfect in every way (#1: We should change his name to Mr. Does Amazing Things With His Hands).  I am tired, getting blocked up again, and feel like I am not making my point.  I had other things I wanted to talk about, but that shall become Part Two or a separate blog all together.  I promise I have other things going on and I can think of things to talk about other than a man.  I swear.  I am starting to believe that late night, half asleep babbling that could be slightly mistaken for writing is a bit like writing drunk.

Halloween and Other Treats: A Weekend of Goofy Grins

I don't know where to begin when talking about my weekend.  I feel like I celebrated Halloween for an entire week and I'm quite over the holiday now.  I'm surrounded by Halloween decorations at work and I don't have that usual feeling that I get of wanting to stretch out the merriment as long as possible.  Not to say that I didn't have a good Halloween...I had a great one.  I'm just ready to move on to what's next.  We're in that part of the year when the last few months fly by; Thanksgiving will be here in a few weeks, then shortly after Christmas and New Year's Eve.  I feel like I should reflect, but we'll do that in another blog during the months to come.

My weekend began on Thursday with a visit to Mr. Amazing's home.  We had a movie date that both of us were extremely excited about and it was practically perfect, just as he is turning out to be.  I arrived right after work and he had my favorite bottle of wine waiting (he scored MAJOR points with that).  We talked comfortably as usual, ordered food from an excellent Mediterranean restaurant (shish kabob and hummus. yum.), and watched Paranormal Activity (because I had never seen it).  It came time for me to go and I didn't want to leave (I find myself feeling that way every time I'm around him now, which was several times this weekend), but I had to relieve my mother of her babysitting duties.  Friday, we made plans to go to the drive-in to see a double feature of PA2 and Devil.  We camped out with sleeping bags and blankets in the bed of my truck, watching movies, then making out like teenagers.  I forgot what fun it was to see a movie and not be able to really explain or remember what any of it was about.  We stayed until the end of the second showing of PA2, which had me back at his place at about 1:30am.  I left at 9am, again, only because my mother had so graciously watched the kids and I felt bad for leaving her there all night.  I was actually worried she would be mad, but I got home and my house was clean, she probed like mothers do, then told me she was glad that I am happy.  (The irresponsible part of me had wished I'd stayed a little longer at Mr. Amazing's)  He has mentioned in his blog that he can't explain the smile that I give him.  I had the same issue with explaining just the way he makes me feel, until I was on my way home Saturday morning.  It was a beautiful fall morning, the sun was shining, I had barely any sleep, and I couldn't stop smiling.  I don't think he could be any sweeter or more of a gentleman...he is a good man...and he makes me feel ADORED.  That is the word.  Even if he actually doesn't adore me (yet), he makes me feel like I am and it is wonderful.  He came over last night and stayed at my place.  We still have not had sex (ok...there hasn't been "intercourse") and I am ok with that.  Most of my relationships start hot and heavy right from the beginning, but they fizzle out faster than they started it seems.  Slow is good.  A fire that starts as a smolder and grows slowly in intensity is the kind of fire that lasts for a while.  The kind that warms your entire body down to the core...

The rest of my weekend was spent with the kids, hanging out and enjoying the holiday.  We watched a marathon of Ghost Adventures on Saturday night and yesterday we had a lazy day, prepping for the trick-or-treating that was to come later in the evening.  I was a witch, Autumn was a vampire, and Anthony was a "dead scientist that had gotten blown up during an experiment".  That kid is always so detailed with his descriptions.  Anthony had mentioned wanting to go trick-or-treating with his friends this year.  I think I have permanently lost him for Halloween from now on.  His friend came to pick him up early in the evening and he went with that family and a bunch of other boys.  Autumn and I had a great time, though.  We got dressed, waited somewhat patiently for the sun to set, then headed out.  We walked down the street to a neighborhood that was almost completely dead, but we ended up getting a great tip on another neighborhood that really gets into its Halloween festivities.  We drove over, walked around, Autumn was having an amazing time, and was frankly hilarious.  She has my sense of humor, what can I say.  There was a street party going on with a haunted house and a mad doctor that was giving out beer to the parents and candy to the kids.  We finished early, with enough time to get her showered and ready for bed before Mr. Amazing came over.  Anthony ended up spending the night with his friends.  Luckily, I think I have a few more years of hanging with Autumn before she too would rather be with buddies than with mom.  I'll take it while I can.  This morning while I was in the shower, she woke up, sifted through her candy, and laid out a pile of my favorites on my bed.  It came with a little note that read, "Hope you in joy. From: Autumn".  Sweetness.

Thought Stew: Simmering Bits of Randomness

I woke up wanting to write this morning.  I feel like I've lost steam lately and my blogs have been mediocre at best.  Here are some chunky bits that have been simmering in the cauldron of my mind:

Warning: The following subject matter may be uncomfortable for certain male subjects.  "Girly Talk" in progress.
There is a reason that Brazilian waxes are called Brazilians - in my case it is because I would literally be getting rid of a rain forest in said area.  You can tell how much a woman (mainly of the single variety) is having sex by how well she is groomed.  Not only just having sex, but thinking about sex.  I change my opinion...this goes for all women, as I am not just talking about the bikini area.  If a woman, married or not, has not shaved her legs or has thought to herself, "well...I could probably go one more day without shaving under my arms...nobody is going to see anyway", she is not even remotely thinking about getting laid.  There is also something about the chill in the air and the beginning of pants season that brings this on as well, I think.  I was having a little time with myself last night (yes. I mean masturbating. everyone does it and if they don't, then they should.) and I was like, "what the fuuuuuck!".  How did I not notice that this was going on?  Have I been that distracted?  When was the last time I actually took the time to make sure I was all pretty and stuff down there?  When was the last time I thought about sex??  I can probably reference my blog or my Facebook page to answer that question, but seriously....the term "out of control" comes to mind.  Let's just say I took care of the situation, in more ways than one.  Speaking of Brazilian waxes, I've always wanted to get one.  There is a place near my work and my home called The Pretty Kitty...I just love that name.  If I can get a tattoo, I can certainly handle hot wax in my genital area.  I think.

Next subject.

This picture freaks me out a little.  I love it.  I hate that holidays are so commercialized now.  Why can't we go back to this kind of Halloween?  Where scary was the point, not dressing up as a fucking Power Ranger or Hannah Montana!  These kids would scare the shit out of me if they came to my door for candy.
I was also reminded by Mr. Amazing that Christmas is around the corner, while we were speaking of commercialized celebrations.  Thank you, Mr. Amazing.  Thoughtful gifts are what I am all about, not how much things cost.  I am not very materialistic by nature either, so it pains me when my kids make out Christmas lists that include ridiculously expensive things.  I have no problem bringing their little heads out of the clouds and telling them there is no fucking way they are getting every single game system, video game, Ipod, computer, really cool toy that does a million things that they will play with for a week then throw into the bottom of their closet with the rest of the crap they've ever gotten on that outrageous list.  Be glad I am not knitting you homemade sweaters (which I would totally do if I could knit) and giving you stockings full of granola and certificates stating that there is now a star with your name on it.  Lets just go look at some really cool lights on a stranger's house and call it a great day, ok?  And no, I'm not putting the "Christ" back in Christmas.  (Holy shit.  Maybe I should change my name to Scrooge.)  We'll save this rant for December.

Speaking of Mr. Amazing, we have a little movie date tomorrow, which I am ecstatic about.  A scary movie and some snuggling on the couch? Perfection.  We talked last night on the phone and I still find it great that for two introverts, we sure do find a lot to talk about with each other.  He makes me smile.  I read his blog and I am inspired.  Yet he calls me Muse.  Oh...and he already said that he is my bitch.  Score!  He better be glad I am not a girl that will completely take advantage of that (I only will a little).

Lastly, the hammer has come down at work.  We are no longer allowed to Facebook, play games, etc while at work.  This also includes blogging, I'm sure.  Sssshhhh...don't tell anyone.  I have to fight the boredom somehow!  It hasn't been a huge issue yet, but I'm sure it will become one.  I have been piggybacking off my neighbor's wireless and all of a sudden it is secured again.  Now that I am without internet at home (unless I break down and buy my own, but who wants to do that?) and I am not able to go on Facebook at work, major withdrawals will ensue.  I also received, in a addition to the mass email that was sent to everyone, my own little personal email regarding tattoos in the workplace.  All of a sudden, they aren't ok.  My clothing and style needs to be more "work appropriate" and cover my ink.  I sooo wanted to tell them to fuck off, but as they ("they" being "the man") so eloquently put it, there are plenty of people out there that will gladly do whatever the fuck the bosses want and conform as much as necessary just to have a job.  School beckons.  It is screaming for me to come back.  I need to get over my fear of rejection and just email the counselor to ask if they will have me.  The worst thing that would happen is that I would have to go to a different (less adequate) school...which I really don't want to do.  I want to go to one of the best ones in the country, dammit.  Regret #1,341: Dropping out of school last year.  I will make it right, go back, work for myself, heal people, teach people how to heal others, and get as many tattoos as I damn well please.  The End.

That Witch Had it Coming.

I am currently sitting in my messy bedroom, finally feeling like I can form a complete sentence.  I had a conversation with myself today, for probably the thousandth time since high school, cursing the fact that I drank too much and how I hate being hungover.  Why is it that when you're partying, the thought "Gosh, I better stop.  I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow." never comes up?  It doesn't for me, anyway.  Tequila is not my friend.  Honestly, all hard liquor is my enemy and certainly seems to take its toll the older I get.  I went to that adult Halloween party last night and had a great time.  My witch costume turned out to be as spectacular as I'd hoped, I only knew one person there but still had fun, drank too much, fell out of my friend's truck backwards (my ass hurts today), and puked in her bushes on the way inside her house to pass out.  Poor thing...I became the drunk person that you have to take care of.  She deserves a medal.

My thoughts are wandering a lot today.  A few blogs ago I sent out a message into the universe (mainly in a joking manner) that I would "be good" if I was sent a great guy.  Somehow, some way, that half prayer half joke was answered.  I almost can't believe it, but am so thankful at the same time.  Sailor Girl made a joke about calling him Mr. Amazing, but I actually think he's earned it.  I don't know how he'll feel about that, but it just seems fitting.  We met at Starbucks on Thursday, then he surprised me by taking me to Color Me Mine to paint pottery.  It was the best first date I've ever had.  After, as we were talking I didn't really want to leave.  I wanted him to kiss me and I could tell that maybe he wanted to as well, but was being somewhat shy about it.  I was too!  But as I got into my truck to go home, I knew that I would kick myself for not getting a kiss.  I put the truck in park, got out, went up to him and just did it.  He said the next day that he was trying not to smile as I kissed him.  Never have I felt so instantaneously comfortable and happy around someone.  As a natural introvert, there is always a period of awkwardness that I have to get over, but I didn't feel any of that.  It didn't have anything to do with the fact that we had talked and emailed prior to our date...I don't know what it is.  I judge just about everything on how it makes me feel and just thinking about him brings a smile to my face.  And he feels the same way!  Mr. Amazing thinks that I am amazing...and beautiful and sexy and that he is lucky.  I think I might be the lucky one.  We were supposed to see each other today, but my hangover led to that being cancelled.  Throwing up is not usually something that I like to do on a date.  So, I'm supposed to go over to his place on Thursday and watch a scary movie.  Thursday can't come soon enough.  I want another kiss.

Chickens are scared of thunder.

Thunderstorms are in the Top 10 of my favorite things.  Honestly, I'm just throwing a number out there.  I have many favorite things...it is really hard to number them all.  Even a small insignificant thing that I like just a little bit becomes my favorite.  My emotions are extreme in some instances.  But the thunderstorms tonight!! Oh my god, they were wonderful! (see my use of exclamation points?)  At one point, as I was walking through my bedroom, a HUGE crack of thunder actually caused me to shriek, jump back away from my window and into the wall.  I hurt myself.  It was awesome.  I've never actually done that before.  Either I am getting old and my reflexes are not so hard core or I was distracted.
Ok...I was distracted.  In a good way!  I was talking to the guy that I met off of the dating website...the one that has yet to be named. (Maybe that will be his name..."One Who Has Yet to Be Named" No. Too long.)  I cannot think of a name for him!  That is bothering me!  He so deserves more than a letter.  Anyone who makes me laugh like he did deserves more than a letter as a fake name.  We're going out Thursday and he already has something up his sleeve.  "It's a surprise". That makes me smile.  I really like surprises.
I'm having a bit of a dilemma, though.  He is also a blogger.  It is inevitable that we will write about each other...we already are.  When I read about myself in his blog, it's almost like I am reading thoughts that are private that I shouldn't see.  I don't want him to feel uncomfortable about writing (or venting, if needed) about me and the fact that I will see it.  Knowing myself, I will probably censor what I write about him because I know he reads what I write.  I guess I should just stop over-obsessing about it.  I'm going to try. It does bring a smile to my face when he writes about me.  I'm excited to spend time with him.
(Him, him, him.  He needs a fucking name!)

I am really going to have a busy weekend.  Date on Thursday, happy hour work thing on Friday after work,  costume party on Saturday night, and a baby shower on Sunday night.  Whew!  Who wants to bet on whether I make it to the baby shower Sunday?  I want to go, so I must.  My PJs and couch will surely be calling to me.
I am super stoked to go to the costume party on Saturday night!  I can't wait to get dressed up and see my costume put together.  I found the greatest witch's hat.  I just need to get a few things for finishing touches.  Broom or no broom?  I'm not sure yet.  I think a broom just makes it that much better.
We'll see.  I still have to figure out what I am wearing to Sailor Girl's prom-themed birthday party.  I have a month for that still.  I'll end up waiting until the last minute.  I usually do.
Ok, now that I've basically just started spitting out the "to do" list in my head, it might be time for bed.  I am actually sleepy.  I had a great day and hopefully tomorrow will be the same.

There I go again, thinking I can have a social life.

Have I ever mentioned how great being a single mom is? NO?  Hmmm.  That's odd.

I was invited to an open bar event tonight.  Three hours of free drinks with a fun adult person.  Actually, SportsBabe is a friend of C2.  We've met and vowed to hang out, but have yet to have the chance.  So tonight I get a little IM, saying that I needed to be ready for an open bar at 7.  It just happened to be at a casino right around the corner from my house.  It would literally take me all of 2 minutes to get there.  I looked around.  I have Mini Me.  Just as I was about to respond, "I can't go", Mini Me busted through the front door stating that she was spending the night at her friend's house.  REALLY?!  This can't be happening.    Is this really happening?  I told SportsBabe that I would be there, hurriedly helped MiniMe pack up her things and her sleeping bag, sent her on her way, and hopped in the shower.  "Holy CRAP! I'm going out!!", I thought to myself.  I was way too excited.  It turned out to be my downfall.
I was getting ready to walk out the door and I saw Mini Me's things by the front door.  She obviously got a little over-excited a bit too early and her plans got ruined too.  Her friend said she could spend the night without actually asking first.  Mini Me confirmed that she was not spending the night when I found her playing outside.  "Go to your party, Mom.  I'm old enough.  I'm 8!  I'll be fine!", she told me.  I will admit that for a split second, that little evil version of me whispered in my ear that she was right.  I shook it off.  I turned around and walked back inside, actually fighting back tears.  I had a really difficult week.  I actually went without power for most of it.  I honestly cannot believe I am admitting that, but it's not like I am the only person on Earth that has ever dealt with it.  The power company was being a jerk and wouldn't give me a few extra days to pay my bill.  It's back on now.  It actually got turned back on as I was getting ready to go out.  It wasn't the end of the world not having electricity, but it really didn't make for a stress-free week.

I needed this free night out.  I needed fun with adults.  New adults.  Adults I have never spent time with.

So, now I am sitting on my couch, venting with my blog, in a fabulous strapless ensemble.  My ass looks amazing.  Maybe I'll go to the grocery store in this outfit, grab some wine, then come home, change into an oversize tee and watch Ghost Adventures.  That sounds so fun I can hardly stand it. (obviously, this is sarcasm)

I know one day I'll be able to have a life.  Mini Me will soon be spending time away on the weekends with her friends, just like Little Man does.  I'll have all the free time in the world and I'll be venting about how much I miss my babies and want to spend time with them....or not.  I literally missed my twenties.  I was in a relationship at 19, a mom at 20, and a mom for the second time at 23.  I left my ex a month shy of my 29th birthday.  I am ready to experience my single life and feel like I still have not been able to fully.  By the way, how the fuck am I supposed to keep a man when I can barely get out of the house to go on dates???!!  I'm sad.  I'm frustrated.  I need a hug...or at least a cuddle partner of the opposite sex to watch my show with.  :sighs:  This sucks.
I'll get over it.  I'll have a little to drink, I'll stalk people on Facebook that I hardly know, and watch cool shows about ghosts.
Damn. My boobs looks fucking great; it's a shame.  They really deserve to be looked at.  Sorry girls...another night.

Sidenote: I got a voicemail from my sister, Tattooed and Organic (hehe. I love that name).  She says that you know you're old when you go into Hot Topic looking for a Slayer and Iron Maiden T-shirt (of which I want both) and all they have are Justin Bieber and Twilight.  Isn't that the truth?  I used to be the cool person that shopped there...now I am the old broad that shops there.  Which is why I don't shop there.  Anyways, it made me smile and thinking about it is making me feel better already.