I have decided on what one of the most annoying occurances in a woman’s life can possibly be.

I was at work and everything was coming up roses. I had an super great hair day. I even woke up early enough to slap on some war-paint. I had a box to pack up for a customer who is in a shit panic to get something done RIGHT NOW, after he had been advised a week ago that he needed to take action.

Whatever. Lack of planning on his dumb ass part, does not constitute a shit panic for me. None the less, I went ahead, as a good colleague would, and got his stuff put together for him and was putting the large part (a 50 pound instrument) into the box when I felt it…. SNAP! The underwire in my most favoritest bra gave out.

That kids, is annoying. My boob popped out of said bra into my shirt, making my the girls look all awkward and crooked. Needless to say, the bra came off and I wore my sweatshirt for the rest of the day.

---

I made an attempt to be stealth like a ninja this weekend. I did, really. I waited for Big T to get up and go to work, acting totally and convincingly asleep. He was out the door and I jumped up to take a shower. I hi-jacked the truck and snuck all the way to Pigeon Forge to the Music Outlet.

I cried on the sales fella’s shoulder about how I had to have the camo Morgan Monroe guitar case, of which they only had one and was already half paid for by some psycho woman.

Being the spoiled brat I am, I tried to talk him into giving me that one and ordering her another one, but to no avail. Kids, I haggled this dude for 20 minutes before his son said, “Dad, I think there might be one upstairs in the storage room.”

The waters parted and the heavens opened when I saw the boy coming back down the stairs a mere 30 minutes later carrying the last one they would ever have.

I am such a good wife that I pay attention to all the stuff Big T says. And I specifically remember him making a mental note that he was going to go back and get that case one day. Check. I made a mental note too. I was sure it would get me a free pass for a wicked roll in the hay. Woo!

Anyhoo, I get home and try to get in the house before Big T can come help me in with the stuff. But, I didn’t make it. He was out the door before I could fart and run from it.

He asked obviously annoyed that I would have enough nerve to put something back there when he had specifically told me not to. “What’s that in the back of the seats? I thought I told you not to put anything back there, baby.”

“I know you did. It’s for Natalie (my kid) and it’s lightweight. I was afraid it would blow out of the bed if I put it back there.” I protested.

He rolled his eyes and said “Unlock the door, let’s get it out and take it in the house.”

What could I do. I handed him the key. Mind you, he’s had a hard-on for this particular item for a little over a year.

He pulls the box out and looks in it. I swear, I thought he was gonna cry. The look of horror on his face that he had found one of his Christmas presents.

Oh well, his bad. He ain’t gettin it until Christmas day. I’ll wrap that bitch up and put in under the tree anyway. He better act surprised and he better still give me some major league nookie.

So much for being a ninja.

---

Taco Bell gets a stay of execution for now.

As promised to Ms. P, I went ahead forewent my diet in order to keep Taco Bell in business. I have had a burrito and large Diet Dew two days in a row. There is no need for anybody so sweet to die of hunger because of my vanity. What the hell was I thinkin anyway? Maybe that is why I broke bitch in like 1.3 seconds… maybe it wasn’t PMS… maybe it was lack of bean burritos with extra red sauce.

Thank you, Puddin, you saved me from myself.

---

What is a school zone? A school zone is a place where flashing lights, crossing guards and cops all come together with one goal in mind… to slow folks down in order to avoid mowing down of any munchkins.

I respect the school zone and all of its components. However, some asshat in an SUV, who apparently woke up a little late, doesn’t.

I drive my kids to school every single day, as she is too much of a princess to ride the damn bus. Which is fine. I too was a princess. I take into consideration that I might just run into traffic in the school zones, and allow this into my alotted time for the AM commute. Generally I take it for what it is and am a mellow driver. I don’t suffer from road rage very often… until today. Today was the day I finally snapped.

Anyway, the forementioned asshat decided that he was in a hurry and as a result his SUV was raping my poor little car he was riding so close… like right up the tailpipe raping. Not like I could go anywhere any faster with the half mile of folks trying to do the same thing I was.

I didn’t think about my daughter (16) sitting next to me when I finally got pissed off. I rolled down the window and yelled back at him “If you’re gonna ride my ass, at least pull my hair, asshole!”

Ooops. Of course, my kid busted out laughing and looking back at him. He must’ve been humiliated cuz his boy was laughing his ass off as his dad yelled at him. Good. Back off and don’t ride other people’s bumper. It’s just consideration.

I’ve finally figured out that most of my knee shaking epiphanies hit me while my ass is firmly planted on a bar stool. 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.

     It’s been a crazy year since last Thanksgiving.  Certainly, an abnormal and unusual amount of “bad stuff” far beyond my control has transpired, as well as a ridiculous amount from my own poor choices.  If I were to sit and reflect on it all, I’d probably end up depressed.

     But…

     Defeats made me savor victories.  Losses made me appreciate what I gained.  Every tear made me laugh even harder.
     For that, I’m thankful.

     Nearly every time I was in need, someone else had it worse.  I did what I could when I could, and the favors were returned in kind.
     For those, I’m thankful.

     The short list of people I consider “family” has grown tremendously longer.  For every loss, three were gained.  Those who were there already have gotten a whole lot closer.  
     For them, I’m thankful.

     As I sit here this morning, anticipating a huge dinner with my Wildcat and her family, I can’t help but reflect that if even one thing had happened differently, I wouldn’t have ended up here.
     For us, I’m thankful.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTvDDEB5aQQ)

     Sometimes, things happen for a reason.  That’s why it’s important to count your blessings and be thankful for silver linings.

     To all my friends, to all my family, and all of my friends who are family, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

It’s Monday. In most cases, that would be enough. Not today. Actually my head started to spin around last night thanks to my wonderful, caring EX-husband. But, that’s another story all-together now isn’t it?

No, today (after last night), I decided to:

• Get up early - check
• Drink some coffee - check
• Have a nice long shower - check
• Do my do - check (thank God for Aussie Freeze) - check
• Actually put on some war paint - check

…and be somebody and have a great day…

Yah, right.

I managed to amp up on caffeine, have a shower and look like somebody today. Most days, I go to the office looking scary because who the ever comes in our office? Not a damn soul but the UPS guy and he’s used to seeing me look like something my cat just yacked up.

All is going well, I main-lining my Juan Valdez coffee, I get dressed and look pretty damn good for a Monday, drop my purse and coffee cup on the end table so I can run up to the kitchen and grab my lunch. I get back downstairs, I stick my lunch in my purse, grab my coffee and out the door I go. So far, so good, eh?

Well, not so much because as I hear that click that signifies the door is indeed shut and LOCKED, I realize my damn keys are in the house… Figures.

“Damn!” I said out loud to myself and the trees. “No biggie. I’ll just call OG and she can pop over and get me.”

It was already 8:30 and since 8:30 is merely a suggested time to get to work, I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach OG for at least another few minutes.

“Good grief. Here they fucking come.” I muttered to myself standing in the middle of the driveway.

THEY are my nosy neighbor and her moppy looking muts. I can’t stand her or them. She’s the one neighbor that everybody has. She knows everything about everybody in the neighborhood well, exepting us, as we avoid her like the plague.

I saw them coming at me, barking like there’s no tomorrow. I looked at the one taking a shit in the neighbor across the street’s yard and looked up to see NOSY in her front yard, yelling “No jump! No jump!” Whatever.
Those dogs don’t understand plain English because they still run and jump all over anybody that has the balls to walk anywhere on our road when she has them out.

I looked her dead in the eye and gave her my “you’re a skank” glare her before I made a snap decision to take off and walk to work.

Off I went, thinking I’d make it a little ways, be away from psycho neighbor and her mutts, I’d get hold of OG in a few minutes and she’d come get me. I try her again.

“Hey. Come get me. I’m a dork, I locked all the keys in the house…”

“Dude,” she said in a solemn tone, “You just take this like a man. But you’re F-U-C-K-E-D.”

I’m automatically assuming some more fresh cooked drama is coming my way.

“I rode my bike to work today.” She concludes. Excellent, no drama, but it appears I’m walking the 6 miles to work today in these friggin shoes…

They are Gloria Vanderbilt and they were expensive. These are the most comfy slides I own. However, I don’t think Gloria had me walking to work in them., cuz after the first mile and a half, my dang dogs were barkin.

I made many personal observations on my trek this morning.

1. I shouldn’t wear silky, thin pants in fall. It’s fucking cold and I might get locked out of the house.
2. I really, really don’t like my neighbor. Her dogs shit in everybody’s yard but their own (trained to do so by their proud owner I assume).
3. Random people who walk along the river in Oak Ridge are super friendly. I suppose I exchanged 10 smiles and at least that many “hello” and “Good mornings”.
4. Our ex’s are never going to go away. They are part of our pasts and we just have to learn to deal with it.
5. I can indeed do two things at once. I can walk and text at the same time.
6. People really do throw some nasty stuff on the side of the road. For example:
   • some dude chucked his Joe Boxer tighties out the window… Ewwwww…
7. There is too much roadkill for a Monday morning…  The count goes a little somethin like this:
   • One disemboweled and half masticated deer (bllluch)
   • Two squished baby skunks
   • A racoon that had just been plowed down
   • A poor bunny rabbit that being eaten by crows
8. Maybe I should go back to the gym.  All things considered, I feel all happy and refreshed after kicking every pebble for six miles.

Ahh, ya gotta love a Monday!

Peace!

Finally.  A year after the proposal.  Finally, after three changes in date, time and venue.  Finally, after finding a wedding cake that didn’t resemble spiderman.  Finally, after managing to locate and fit into a sexy yet firm suitable set of wedding underwear.  Finally, we did it.  We got hitched!

Of course, in our typical style, anything less than complete and utter chaos, followed by family drama and tradgedy.

I must say, my bridesmaids were stunning and wear sexy gowns.  Nice tits, ladies!  I couldn’t say it in the church, because well, it was church.  But dang, everybody’s boobs looked superb in those dresses! 

The boys didn’t look shabby either.  Ain’t it funny how a man in a classic black tux can make a girl weak in the knees?

It was actually beautiful, other than the bridesmaids walking to “Pray for the Dead and the Dead will Pray for you”.  Long story.  I stress here and now, that it was an ooopsie on our part, as we didn’t listen to the concerto in full.  We thought, “Oh that’s beautiful” when we listened to it the first time and turned it off with listening to it all the way through.  So, two of the bridesmaids are walking to lovely strums of a classic string quartet, when it goes into the death march.  Sweet Jesus!  I’m back there yelling to Val, “Oh shit! Oh Shit!!!!!  Cut it off, cut it off!!” 

Which he did, and we went on.  It was at this point I had decided I either need an ample amount of Jack Daniels right then and there or a mega dose of Xanax.

Deep breath.  The Wedding March is going. Walking with Daddy (who by the way was on his best behavior and didn’t cause any shit whatsoever). I got up there to my man looking dapper and all of his groomsmen. 

Ok, so here we go.  Daddy gave me away and there I stood looking into the eyes of the man I was about to marry.  I never in my life imagined that I would have been nervous.  But I was.  And I was about to cry.  We stood with everyone looking on… ohhhhh, the sweet, happy couple gazing at one another as “At Last” by Etta James played on.

Who would have ever thunk it?  My friggin shoes started to hurt like hell and I was about to cry again.  We manage to exchange vows with me only tripping once over my tongue and having to start over.  Queue the second song, “If You Ever Have Forever In Mind.”  By this time, the butterflies have turned to dragons and I’m so nervous that I can feel myself turning red as a chipotle pepper getting over-ripe in the sun.  I look at the pastor and say, “Is there anyway we can get him to turn this song off??”

“You really want the song cut?” He asked, looking at me like I’m crazy and then to Tony for reassurance that my head wasn’t going to spin 360 like something from the Exorcist.

“Yah, and the next one too.  My feet are killing me and I’m turning red.”

“You got it.”  He said.

He got Val’s attention. The music was cut. Moving right along. 

We are now husband and wife.  He grabbed my hand.  He pulled me close and laid the nicest kiss on me.  Dang.  We’re in church here, pal, and you’re really turning me on.

The only mishap was Lil T coming up to us mid-vows and yelling “Look Nana!  Motorcycle.” When he figured out everybody was lauging at him and saying, “Oh how cute.”, he took off. 

So, not a single mishap that was YouTube worthy happened, dammit!  I was just waiting for somebody to do something stupid.

We got it done!  The ceremony itself was beautiful.  Nobody burst into flames from getting too close to the unity candle, although Julie was standing pretty close and she has that sexy long hair. Nobody slid and fell off the stage, passed out or puked… 

I was tickled as pink as pink gets to see so many people showing so much love by being there to see this circus.  But as hectic as wedding days seem to get, I didn’t get a chance to sit and visit as I was being pulled in fourteen directions at once.  Not complaining, just the way it is.

We were in the midst of finding the photographer to make pictures after the ceremony, when we found out that the photographer had, in fact, left.  He had said to somebody, can’t remember who at this point, that he had plenty of pictures.

Um. What?!?!  I believe I’ll be the one to tell you when you’ve got enough damn pictures and when you can sit down and have cake, asshat!  But, I didn’t get the chance.  He was gone.  Must have needed a beer or a shot of tequila or something.  Whatever.  It’s my fault for putting my trust in my dear father’s friend to do anything remotely important.

That’s when SUPERMAN appeared!  He was like an angel sent to save my day!  I bet you’re wondering who by now, eh?

Well, it’s our own Mark Steel!  I was about to cry and there he was, yanking the camera out of the bag, snapping pictures of the wedding party, the reception, the friends, the family.  My friggin hero, I shit ya not!

Ok, so what else.  The reception was gorgeous!  Well, the cake started to melt and the topper kept falling off because Robyn is hot as hell and she walked by it.

I pitched the bouquet, and Robyn snatched it up.  As if she needs it (wink).  She’s next anyway.  And then Curtis (Robyn’s man) yoinked the garter!  So, if it wasn’t already happening, it’s bound to happen now! 

We ate cake…

drank wedding punch…

Posed, posed, posed… pitched the bouquet…

flipped the garter…

…and decided it was time to cruise on outta there. 

We proceeded to the truck to find it tastefully decorated with multiple condoms and window chalk.

It was then that the family drama ensued.  Amanda (my brat) broke asshat on Amy (his brat), and they commenced in a huge argument which culmunated in Amanda throwing her shoes and running into the woods and Amy peeling out of the church parking lot like her ass was nothing less than on fire.

For hell’s sake.  Please just friggin’ shoot me now!  I’ve waited all of my life for this here and day all these people want to piss all over it!

Anyway.  Mark, Becky, Olga and Holly got me some good pix, so regardless of the drunk monkey camera guy, I got my memories.

So, this wedding hasn’t exactly went off without a hitch… If I don’t end up in a padded room by the end of this thing it will be a miracle..

Leave us recap all of the issues, shall we?

**I mean, the date has been changed from July 14th to June 2nd and now (officially) September 29th.

**My stepbrother (the preacherman) was who was supposed to officiate the ceremony, ceremoniously backed out on me without letting me know.

**My chinese torture underwear has been returned for the proper size, yet the company has yet to send the replacement (the bastards).

**I am now going to have to reschedule AGAIN with the dress alteration lady.

GAAAA!!!! Then there is the issue with the cake.

Now call me simple-minded. But ain’t cake, cake? Nothing more, nothing less?
At least that is what I thought when I started all this.

My original cake lady gave me the schpeel about how her cakes cost from $2 - $2.50 per serving. Now, I’m thinkin, if all of these folks that have been invited to this here illustrious event show, I’m gonna end up shellin out around $450 for a cake.

Cake, kids. Flour, eggs, oil, frosting. A cake. She cuts me a deal, and agrees on $230.00 set up and all.

Well, when the wedding got cancelled twice, I ended up losing the original cake lady. Which I was really bummed about, because although it was ass expensive, she was talented enough to make me the cake I wanted:

But alas, Elaine is looney and completely booked from now until Jesus comes back.

So, Olga (my boss) comes in this past Monday morning and says “Dude, you know when one door closes, another one opens.” She had found someone, quite by accident, that does cakes. Yay!

Or so I thought. So, the lady calls me. We discuss the cake and how many I need to feed with this cake and so on… She goes on to tell me that she doesn’t do that pricing by the piece stuff. I was thinking, “are you for real? You rock cake chick!”.

So, she says give her a day or so to work on pricing and she’d get back to me. Well, today was the day. The phone range this morning and I was thrilled to be hearing back from her so promptly.

She says she can do the cake (mind you, I downsized from the original cake, so it was smaller). And she’ll do the cake for a measley $550.00.

Sweet Holy Jesus, I almost fell over. Since I was at the office and unable to pass out right that second, I settled for my jaw dropping so far it hit my desk.

I thanked her kindly for her call, and told her I had to get in touch with my Mama since she is the one paying for it. We’ve decided to forego the half thousand dollar delight and put the blame on my Mom. She’ll never know.

Anyway, off to Food City I go, as in a previous grocery foraging expedition, I noted in the back of my mind, that they have cakes for all occassions.

Seriously, who give two shakes of pig poo if the things tastes like sweet cardboard. It’s still cake. Like anybody will eat it anyway.
Well, anybody other than my paternal grandfather would would eat the leather off of a shoe if it had icing on it.

They are going to prepare me a cake, that althought it ain’t nearly what I wanted to begin with, will do. Especially for the $$.

For a mere $160 plus tax, we are getting a mighty fine work of edible art.

But still, I beg of you this answer… Ain’t a cake, a cake?

I could just as easily go to Sam’s and get a mac sized cake for $21.99. And they’ll even airbrush Spiderman on it if I want. =)

Women are catty.  Especially toward each other.  Especially when one woman has performed an act of woman on woman betrayal.  It is not something taken lightly and is most likely not to be forgiven. 

Over the last several years, I have emerged from spending most of my time locked in the house and being a slave to my life, kids, ex-husband… blah, blah, blah.    I was a young 17 when I married my first husband and didn’t experience the “meat market” type bar scene in which women are all in competition with one another to take some schmo home.  Pu-leaze. 

Then I toddled into life as a single, grown woman.  It was never my intention to pick up on any dude at all.  We (the Pirates) were always out, and if you saw one, the rest weren’t too far behind.  We generally were out together, as a group, on Wednesday and Friday for close to a year.   During that year I witnessed several acts of sluttiness on various levels and even fell victim once to a chick chasing my fella.  Of course, this chick (as it turns out) has extremely low self esteem and chases anything with a penis.

Even though I’m not single anymore and I have no desire to go back to yesterdrama… Damn if I don’t hold a helluva grudge toward someone in particular that recently not so directly crossed my path.  She was just in the area.  The fur on the back of my neck stood up and my claws came out and if I’m not mistaken, I think I even hissed a few times.  And they wanted me to come out and have a drink in the same bat bar at the same bat time??  Um.  No.  I’ll stay home and watch Burn Notice, thanks!

Expressing interest in a man that another woman has already expressed interest in is a huge no-no.  Even if you are sadly repugnant and shameless.  Wouldn’t you rather keep your girlfriend  (who you know will be there for you for life) than to stab her in the back in order to have a one night fling with a man who is going to talk down about you to his friends and other lovers who know about you?

Kissing another girl’s man when she goes to the bathroom is also a big no-no.  Seriously.  Do you think that his girl isn’t going to find out that you waited until she got up and excused herself from the table, before you not-so-eloquently shoved your tongue down his throat?  If the girl has any real friends, they will tell her about your skanky ways as soon as she gets back to the table.  In general, you will have lost a friend (maybe several) as well as becoming a laughing stock.  (I witnessed this scenario last spring… since I wasn’t involved, it was actually quite amusing).

     Minding my own business (putting the last minute touches on a Interworx backup script), when I get another pathetic e-mail, complete with personal attacks:

From: “Michael aka Capt. Howdy”
Date: August 3rd, 2007 7:13PM EDT 

i was interested in [HerNameRemovedToSaveEmbarrassment] but after see that she went out with u i relise how bad her taste in men is. i mean what exactly does athletic mean thses days? and are women really attracted to receding hairlines? and 2 think i used to like older women. i mean you’ve got bi written all over you. your really in touch arnt ya? if i ran into you on the street id make sure to watch my asshole. you kinda look like a craked out tony soprano. well was fun messin with ya, and isnt it a shame u cant do anything abut what i just said. lol chump

     Wow.  The only reason you’d have to “make sure to watch” your “asshole” is because your head’s planted so firmly up it.  What else could you possibly see from that position, besides whatever you didn’t chew up quite well enough the night before?

     It really shows superior bravery — hiding behind a monitor, keyboard and a fake name — spouting off that kind of trash because I happened to go out with someone you were interested in, doesn’t it?  Ever think maybe the reason she didn’t out with you is because you’re a complete and total asshat?

     I lead a public life, “chump.”  I actually go out most nights, I meet women, I speak to them, and sometimes — Ooooh, ahhh!  ;-)  I’m guessing you don’t get the chance often… I mean, it’s kinda hard when you’re sitting at home stroking your keys… *cough*

     And really, asshat … You misspelled “seeing,” “you,” “realize,” “these,” “to,” “aren’t,” “I’d,” “cracked” and “messin’/messing.”  
     Get past the second grade much?
     They usually teach you what SHIFT key is for after the third…

     I do wonder who I‘ve pissed off to deserve all of this…  But hey, I’m on the way out the door, anyway, so who gives a damn, right?  *grin*

     More fuel … Bring it on. 

     Apparently, someone decided to slash my tire today, sometime after 10AM today, at my home… Zacque, being the photographer that he is (and having superior equipment), got a nice picture of it… In the rain, even, with crappy lighting…

     I have to consider four things about this:  A) Mine was the only tire slashed; B) there’s never any traffic when I come home; C) Exactly two people know where I live (outside of a very close-knit circle of friends who are considered family, and they value my privacy as much as their own); D) I know exactly where Person #2 was between 10AM & 4:30PM when the problem was discovered.

     If I had actually done anything to anyone to deserve the kind of crap that’s been going on lately, I’d take my lumps.

     But since I haven’t …

     Circumstantial proof is difficult without a preponderance of it…  So, I say, “Hey!  Bring it on!” 

     Besides, maybe now I’ll save some money on gas… *grin*

     Tonight, I’ve had to put up with no less than forty text messages from a specific number.  Since 7PM.  I’m really getting sick of it, especially after coming back to my phone at 11:30PM and finding 14 new messages.

     “Your [sic] a(n) asshole/cheater/loser/liar”
     “Why dont [sic] you want to talk about things”
     “SLIMEBAG CHEATER GO TO HELL”
     “____ was my friend first until you turned them against me”
     “I HOPE YOU GET AIDS AND DIE”

     Mind you, I’ve had a busy night.  I certainly don’t feel I should have to put up with crap like that.  Eventually, I’m gonna respond… asking them to stop sending me this crap, to leave me the Hell alone.
     Like anyone, you press my buttons long enough, I’m gonna respond.  The more you press, the more pissed off I’m gonna get.

     I nailed back three hard —

     “Stop f*#&ing messaging me.”
     “No … f*#& off.”
     “Enough is enough.  Stop it NOW.”

     I’ve been more than patient.  And I certainly don’t expect to start getting BS responses like:

     “Quit texting me!”
     “Leave me the f&$* alone!”

     Some people need to get lives.

     They should start by getting off the Internet a few hours a day…  The real world can be quite … titillating.