Sunday, October 31, 2010

And now she's walking!

My youngest turned 11 months old a few days ago. She's been walking in short bursts, usually no more than a few feet at a time. This morning, she seems to have decidedd that she onlys wants to walk from now on. The whole day, she has only walked. She hasn't crawle once. While I'm thrilled that she hit this milestone even earlier than my eldest, it just means she's now running from babyhood. It's funny how being a mom is filled with moments of overjealous joy and melancholyall at the same time. Next time I blink, My eldest will be graduating high school and my baby will be wanting to wear make up.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Deadly Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

Years ago, I use to write a zine for a large group of friends. I always had a section where I use to list totally useless and irrelavant information. Once, I listed that caregivers of the physically disabled and handicap were not allowed to give them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches due to the peanut butter being a choking hazard. I'm reading the Miami New Times and there is an article of a woman in the Florida House of Representatives who owns multiple group homes in South Florida. It turns out that in July 2006, a resident of one of these homes died after choking to death on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Now, if I knew this at my rave-filled days of 19 years old, shouldn't have trained nurses prevented the resident from eating said sandwich? I'm just saying.

I am not the owner of the company.

I'm sitting here wondering if I'm even going to get my paycheck because my boss has decided that he has too many meeting to cut paychecks and I either have to wait until 5 o'clock to get mine or wait until Monday.  Here's my problem with this.  Being a single mom, I'm the only one who picks up my daughters from school and day care unless I set it up with a family member ahead of time.  Since I didn't find this out until an hour ago, what does he expect me to do?  Leave them there and say "oh, well"?  I normally get out of work at 2:30 because I only work part time.  I don't mind staying later but not at last minute when I didn't set anything up.  Working only part time forces me to make cuts in things I need, prioritize what needs to be bought and paid for and, yes, like most Americans I live paycheck to paycheck, so when I'm expecting to get paid today in order to do what I need to do for the weekend and the rest of the week, I can't wait until Monday.  It's not like I even get sick hours for when one of the girls get sick or even build up vacation hours to spend time with my girls.  I don't get company insurance and I doubt he even pays workman's comp if I fall from climbing to search through the boxes in the other room.  My stomach is in knots and I'm giving myself a headache now because I have no idea what is going on or how I'm even going to get home with no gas in my car and $2 in my wallet.  This sucks so much that I want to jump on his desk and scream in his face.  I do not like being put in this situation, especially is have done my work and when he knows what my situation is.  Seriously, I'm trying to make ends meet on about $315 a week for me and 2 kids.  Waiting for money is not an option for me.  If I'm expecting it, that means I need it.  I keep praying in head that he'll even cut me my check manually, even if it's not for the full amount just so I can get done what needs to be done immediately.  I think I'm going to be sick. 

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Why don't we, why don't we, why don't we...run away!

What I would give to simply pack up the girls and me and get the hell out of here and start over somewhere, anywhere but here. This house is like a blackhole sucking the life out of me. The last three years here has bought me nothing but stress, sadness and lose. I know I'm moving in the next three weeks but it seems like while I'm here, I'm paying for evil deeds of a past life. I'm truely getting sick of hearing "God doesn't give you more than you can handle". Seriously, who the hell does God think I am? I'm stressed to the point of not being able to sleep, not being able to eat and wanting to hide a cry. I hate crying. I get all red and puffy. So not a good look for me. What I want is out of this city. I feel like I don't have anything here anymore. My family is here but what else? I know that having them around is important but I can't take being here right now. I want to start completely anew and I can't do that here. I've tried many times and it doesn't work. Whatever. I want to live the song Runaway by Deee Lite. I want to take off and not look back. Why is it so hard to do just that?

The New Guy

I work for an interior design firm.  It's a small company but I always had a preference for small companies because they feel more like a family than work.  I happen to love my job.  I have the best time at work and even though I am not a morning person and the commute is a bit much in Miami traffic terms, I don't mind because I love it.  Now, of the 5 of us who are here on a daily basis, I am the only straight single woman and I'm the youngest one here.  At almost 35, I like that.  So, we have a new guy starting here officially on Monday November 1st.  He came into the office today to meet everyone and to meet with the owner.  Needless to say, he's a pretty good looking guy or else I wouldn't be writing about him.  He's got that baritone voice that my knees melt for, not too pretty looking, nicely dressed and smelt amazing.  (No, I didn't attack him at the door but he did have to pass right by me so I considered myself lucky.  That would have just been creepy.)  When he starts, he's going to be sitting right next to me.  And I don't mean at a desk that's a few feet away.  I'm talking about I can straighten out my left arm, stretch about 6 inches to the left  and I could hit him in the head.  Not that he brings about any feelings of violence but you get the picture.  That's kinda close for new people but I don't mind.  I do mind that now I'm going to have to primp and look good every day when I come to work.  I do mind because I'm going to be self-conscious if I have anything stuck in my teeth, if I forgot deodorant, if my lunch made my breath smells, if my boob is coming out of my shirt, if my outfit makes me looks fats, if I have a booger hanging from my nose when I sneezed, etc., etc.  This constant self-consciousness will last until I find out his sexual orientation.  I say this because I am 1 of the only 2 straight people in this office and the other is a married man.  So, my days will now be filled with more chatter as he sits to my left.  If I find out he's batting for the other team, then it'll be fun.  But if he is straight, then I'm going to have to force myself to throw him into the friend zone so I can get over myself.  But "Temptation" by Corina will be playing in my head until I know.

Monday, October 25, 2010

My Aria

After having a tearful heart to heart with my ten year old daughter, my heart hurts and I want to cry. She was upset and not wanting to go to school tomorrow. When I finally got her to tell me why, she bursted out in tears to say that no one likes her. In her mind, the kids in her class think she's mean, that she's fat (@ 10, she stands at 5'2" and weighs 120 and wears a size 8 1/2 women's shoe!) and that they hate her. She feels like she only has her one best friend and that the other girls keep trying to take her away so she'll have no one. She says she tries to talk to some of the kids in her class but they walk away from her after she says hi. She cries as she tells me that no one talks to her in class. All she wants is for them to like her. She says this is why she gets so fustrated in the mornings trying to figure out how to do her hair because she wants to look nice. I watch her look at herself so critically in the mirror and it hurts that all I can do is hug her and not fix it. I'm her mother. I'm suppose to be able to fix it when she hurts. It all reminded me of when I was that age and how I felt ugly and fat and how the group of girls I thought were my friends turned their backs on me and started talking about me. Why do girls have to go through this? Is it really that difficult to teach our daughters how not to be catty and accepting of who a person is rather than what they look like? What am I suppose to do for her? I don't like feeling helpless like this. I'm suppose to make sure she's smiling. How am I suppose to help her make it better? Is there even a way of making it better?

Junkie

I'll admit it.  I am a total freebie site junkie.  I can not get enough of them.  I love going to my mailbox every day when I get home and checking to see if any of the free things I ordered is waiting for me to try.  I have gotten all kinds of free crap from makeup samples to diapers to free photo printing to food.  I love it!  I have no idea when it started but as far back as I can remember, I was always sending away for free things.  Half the time, I know it's not anything I need but it's free, damn it!  And that makes me want it.  Do I really need 4 different ring sizers?  No but I might.  Do I really need that Salvation Army Christmas calendar?  No, but someone else I know might.  I don't even like my daughter's dog but I'll order free treats and food for it.  I never know if I'll need any of the free things I get but why not have them just in case.  Well, at least this isn't an addiction that will put me in a rehab, psych ward or in a grave. 

Sunday, October 24, 2010

WE ARE ONLY HUMAN.
There's nothing more unattractive than a man who can not hold his liquor. It's just sad.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Baby Mama

I drive a 1994 Ford Tempo which drives surprisingly well, has cold A/C, a working radio and has less than 80,000 miles.  I really can't complain because, hey, at least I have a car and it doesn't look as if it's falling apart.  But, because it's a basic car, I only have radio which means my musical fix gets chopped up in the mornings by radio djs talking the world of garbage.  I admit, some of it is entertaining and funny, but other times I'm forced to constantly change channels for 15 minutes straight before I find actual music and not talking.  This particular morning, a female dj on a popular Miami radio station admits that she would love to be called a "baby mama".  She finds it hot.  The moments those words came out of her mouth, I felt my face flush and my blood begin to boil.  Here's why:

According to www.urbandictionary.com, this is the first 6 definitions of the meaning of "baby mama" -

1. The mother of your child(ren), whom you did not marry and with whom you are not currently involved.

2. A term used to define an unmarried young woman (but can be a woman of any age) who has had a child. As mentioned before in another definition, most of the time it is used for when it was simply a sexual relationship, compared to ex-wife or girlfriend. Usually this has a negative connotation, a lot of baby mamas are seen as desperate, gold digging, emotionally starved, shady women who had a baby out of spite or to keep a man. Sometimes they may act like this because of missed child support payments, unfulfilled promises by the father, or convenient sex by the father. Either or both may exist in any situation.

 3. Basically a woman you had a child or children with who you didnt marry and or no longer involved with.Usually associated with hoodrats and trailer park bitches.

4.  1.Who to make the check out to.
     2.The mother of your children.
     3.A source of endless emotional pain and/or headaches

5. A woman who has a child out of wedlock with a man. She may or may not be in a relationship with the man, but most of the time, she's not. She may think she has some sort of postion or leverage in the man's life, just because she had a child with the man, but all she is, is a baby mama, nothing else. Some baby mamas use the child as a pawn or weapon to "get what they want" from the child's father, IE: money, food, sex, etc. If the man is in a realtionship with a woman who has no children, the baby mama may become jealous and cause baby mama drama. A stereotype associated with baby mama's is they are poor, lazy bitches who trapped the man into getting her pregnant or tricked him by saying she was on the pill, thinking the man would pay her way in life just because she has a child with him. Not all baby mama's are like that. The majority of them just act like they can control the man just because they had a seed with them, and make it difficult for the man and threaten to take the child away or sue for more child support if the baby mama doesn't get her way.

6. a term used for females who had a baby by a guy that does not claim them, hence, THEY ARE NOT TOGETHER. a lot of girls, namely wiggers/wigger bitches think it's cute to be a dude baby mama and proudly brag about it and try to attach "wifey" along to the title. this is a key sign of a fake bitch who aint from the ghetto but just tryna be down usin the word completely out of context. once you're a baby mama, THAT'S IT. you're nothing more. it's not a compliment. yall aint special. or else you wouldn't be referred to as a baby mama. havin a dude baby don't mean you have some sort of significance in his life. and him referring to you as his baby mama is just his way of sayin he don't love you and will dread the next 18 years and regrets that night 9 months ago.

 Mind you, there were over 20 more definitions after these initial 6 but they all boiled down to the same thing.  I abhor that term.  I find it disgustingly derogatory.  I don't find it endearing.  It is not something that is said in a positive manner.  It makes you appear to be trashy.  I work hard as hell to take care of my girls by myself.  I do not sit on my ass all day long bitching about how I'm waiting all the time on child support and constantly complaining about my girls' fathers.  Yes, they have 2 different fathers.  Yes, if it wasn't for Medicaid, they wouldn't have health insurance.  But I work and have always worked.  I have never caused drama in either father's life.  I do not expect for someone to swoop down and sweep me off my feet to take care of me.  I am realist.  I do it myself.  Why on Earth would any self-respecting woman want to be called a "baby mama"?!?  You are a mother of a child.  Do not stand to be called anything less if you want to be treated with dignified respect.  Honestly, the ignorance of some people make me wonder why they were given the ability to speak. 

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Define Nostalgia

nos·tal·gia [no-stal-juh, -jee-uh, nuh-] 

–noun
1. a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time: a nostalgia for his college days.
2. something that elicits or displays nostalgia.
 
 
With as stressed as I am lately with life bombarding me with things I wish I didn't have to deal with, I heard a song this morning that transported me back to 1995.  Now, 1995 was a pleasantly insane year filled with music, colors, lights and motions.  It was filled with endless dancing and love for new found friends (which could be made every night) and a carefree attitude that only a 19 year old could have with no true responsibilities or worries.  It was freedom at it's best.  This is what it looked like for me - 
That's me with the sunglasses and my infamous Snoopy backpack.

I was beginning to find myself and realize who I was.  Regardless of the fact that it took massive amounts of hallucinogenics and MDMA.  It was too much fun for simple words.  The entire world was within reach and all I had to do was dance towards it.  The dance floor in The Edge, Paragon, Warsaw, Diamante's, etc, etc was where I found divine enlightenment.  It's where I found the words to express what it was I was seeing.  It was where I could be in the here and now and not worry about what just happened 5 minutes ago or worry about what hadn't even happened yet.  It was where I felt love.  Even as the years went by, the dance floor was the only place that I felt like me and could feel free.

http://www.playlist.com/playlist/additem/153756433    Go listen to this song!
I've come to figure out that I don't dance much anymore these days.  Between adding years onto my age, 2 daughters that I raise by myself, food to be cooked, dishes to be washed, laundry to be done, floors to be mopped, work to get to, driving around half of Miami on a daily basis, I long for a moment of that feeling again.  I can put on Rabbit in the Moon's "Out of Body Experience" and I will literally feel the chills go up my spine and a feeling of elation take over.  My heart rides a roller coaster to that song. I just want it for one night without the drug combinations.     It was never about the drugs.  It was the music.  I can listen to some songs and pick apart the complicated beats and melodies and find that bass line that I can groove to.  I can go on private get away's in the comfort of my car by throwing the speakers on full blast.  I need a night out of no worries and only dancing.  Will I get?  Who knows but I can always hope.

"You have to hear this song.  It will change your life."
The jungle re-mixes on this CD by DJ On-E is what became my soundtrack while roaming around Budapest, Hungary.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Decorations for hand Puppets

http://www.playlounge.co.uk/products/?prod=543

Seriously?!?!   
I can not make this stuff up if I tried.  When did using your imagination for hand puppets become a thing of the past where as now you need actually decoration for your hand to be believable as, oh, let's say an alligator.  I guess if you can think it up, there will be people on this planet who will buy it.  Even if they are buying it in secret and playing by themselves in a darken room.  Then that's just a bit scary.

NY77:The Coolest Year in Hell Punk Part 1 (AKA The Year My Dad Turned 21)

I was 1 years old during the summer of '77 when the birth of punk and hip hop took place in NYC. My mom was 17 and my dad was 20. Both of them young and full of promise. I grew up to art house, punk music, and early hip hop constantly playing in my home. My parents were into the underground music scene in the late 70s and early 80s and I benefited from it. Blondie was queen and The Ramones Lords of the Land! My musical tastes have such a wide range and I'm a plethora of useless information because of it. Today, my dad would have been 56 years old. He died February 5, 2007, exactly two weeks before my 31st birthday. It's been three and half years and I don't think...no, I know I haven't reached some tranquil state of mind about it. I'm still highly pissed off that the doctor's still don't know what virus attacked the muscles of his heart and caused him to die. I'm still bitter that because of his death, my Uncle Andy gave up his fight with cancer and died one month and one day later and that my grandmother couldn't stop mourning the death of her only son and died of cancer (that she didn't have when he was alive) one year one month and one day after him. It still hurts to look at pictures of him because my eyes burn with tears, my throat swells up and it takes me a minute to gather myself in front of people to continue speaking. I hate looking weak in front of people and his death still makes me feel like a lost and crying three year old. I wish with everything that I am that he was still here. Things would be different, or at least I'm under the belief that it would have been. But that could just be my little girl-like fantasy of still having my dad around. I was a complete daddy's girl. He was my rock to crash against when the weather got too rough. He was my buffer between my mom and I. I could always say the same thing to the both of them but it was as if my father had to translate it into something my mother could understand for her to get what I was saying. I guess that just a mother-daughter thing. He was always laughing at the most ridiculous things. Everyone has a story of him that starts with "Me and your father were out drinking and...(insert chaotic craziness and drunken hilarity here)". Even I had some stories like this. I know it's suppose to hurt less every day but what if it doesn't? What if this a constant hole in my heart that's never going to be filled no matter what I do? What if I can't get rid of this cold that surrounds me and keeps good men away? I know I'm lucky to have some good men in my life who are there for me as a father-figure like my dad's best friend from the time they were 8 and my godfather Victor, all my siblings' godfathers who were in that same 8 year olds group, my mom's current husband (who is spookily - I think I just made up that word! - enough like being around my dad) Tom but it's not the same as having him here.

I love you, Dad, and I miss you every day that you're not here! Happy birthday, Pops!



Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I just had the MDPD show up at my front door telling me they received an anonymous tip that I was running a marijuana grow house. WTF?!?!

The Cure - Just Like Heaven

This is what falling in love should sounds like. This what my heart will sing when it has found a missing piece. This song makes me smile in spite of myself. This is the song that will play when it is time for the proverbial "our" first song. This song makes me want to sway along to the melody and not stop. This song makes me love my red lipstick even more. This song reminds me of when things were much simpler. This song reminds of friends who moved far away and I miss dearly. This song reminds me of people I use to be friends with. This song reminds me of guys I drunkenly lusted after. This song makes me want to pull someone closer and move our bodies to the sweetly constructed beat like a choreographed dream. This song....

The Police - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

You know that moment in a movie when the lead guy looks over and sees the lead chick and suddenly, his eyes widen and music starts playing in his head about her? Well, this is want I want to play in some guy's head when he looks at me. That's not too much to ask for, is it?

Totally Useless Fact of the Day

The state fish of Hawaii is the humuhumunukunukuapua'a. The Hawaiian name roughly translates to "the fish with a pig-like nose". It's English name is the Reef Triggerfish.

Monday, October 18, 2010

How do...






I wonder what people think of me sometimes.  How do I look walking around with my tattoos, two kids obviously far apart in age and wedding ring on my left hand.  How do I come off to the guy at the bar next to me when I'm ordering a Hennessey ad ginger ale all made up, trying my best to appear aloof yet approachable. How does my family see me struggling to raise my girls on my paycheck with no help when they expected me to accomplish so much.How will my daughters look at their childhood?  Will they see all I did for them or will they see what they didn't have?  How do I see me?  Sometimes I see a strong and able woman who can do it all with no worries.  Other times, I look at myself and wonder what the hell happened.  I know this isn't the life I had pictured but it's my life, for better or for worse.  You know what, screw the world.  I'm me and for all my quirks and faults and habits, it's what is here.  I'll make the best of it because I have to.  Who cares if you don't like me.  I'm good.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Yeasayer - O.N.E (XXXchange Remix)

Dan Savage for President!

Gay Kids Are Dying, Fuck Your Feelings
October 14, 2010
I was listening to the radio yesterday morning, and I heard an interview with you about your It Gets Better campaign. I was saddened and frustrated with your comments regarding people of faith and their perpetuation of bullying. As someone who loves the Lord and does not support gay marriage, I can honestly say I was heartbroken to hear about the young man who took his own life.
If your message is that we should not judge people based on their sexual preference, how do you justify judging entire groups of people for any other reason (including their faith)? There is no part of me that took any pleasure in what happened to that young man, and I know for a fact that is true of many other people who disagree with your viewpoint.
To that end, to imply that I would somehow encourage my children to mock, hurt, or intimidate another person for any reason is completely unfounded and offensive. Being a follower of Christ is, above all things, a recognition that we are all imperfect, fallible, and in desperate need of a savior. We cannot believe that we are better or more worthy than other people.
Please consider your viewpoint, and please be more careful with your words in the future.
—L.R.


I'm sorry your feelings were hurt by my comments.
No, wait. I'm not. Gay kids are dying. So let's try to keep things in perspective: Fuck your feelings.
A question: Do you "support" atheist marriage? Interfaith marriage? Divorce and remarriage? All are legal, all go against Christian and/or traditional ideas about marriage, and yet there's no "Christian" movement to deny marriage rights to atheists or people marrying outside their respective faiths or people divorcing and remarrying.
Why the hell not?
Sorry, L.R., but so long as you support the denial of marriage rights to same-sex couples, it's clear that you do believe that some people—straight people—are "better or more worthy" than others.
And—sorry—but you are partly responsible for the bullying and physical violence being visited on vulnerable LGBT children. The kids of people who see gay people as sinful or damaged or disordered and unworthy of full civil equality—even if those people strive to express their bigotry in the politest possible way (at least when they happen to be addressing a gay person)—learn to see gay people as sinful, damaged, disordered, and unworthy. And while there may not be any gay adults or couples where you live, or at your church, or in your workplace, I promise you that there are gay and lesbian children in your schools. And while you can only attack gays and lesbians at the ballot box, nice and impersonally, your children have the option of attacking actual gays and lesbians, in person, in real time.
Real gay and lesbian children. Not political abstractions, not "sinners." Gay and lesbian children.
Try to keep up: The dehumanizing bigotries that fall from the lips of "faithful Christians," and the lies about us that vomit out from the pulpits of churches that "faithful Christians" drag their kids to on Sundays, give your children license to verbally abuse, humiliate, and condemn the gay children they encounter at school. And many of your children—having listened to Mom and Dad talk about how gay marriage is a threat to family and how gay sex makes their magic sky friend Jesus cry—feel justified in physically abusing the LGBT children they encounter in their schools. You don't have to explicitly "encourage [your] children to mock, hurt, or intimidate" queer kids. Your encouragement—along with your hatred and fear—is implicit. It's here, it's clear, and we're seeing the fruits of it: dead children.
Oh, and those same dehumanizing bigotries that fill your straight children with hate? They fill your gay children with suicidal despair. And you have the nerve to ask me to be more careful with my words?
Did that hurt to hear? Good. But it couldn't have hurt nearly as much as what was said and done to Asher Brown and Justin Aaberg and Billy Lucas and Cody Barker and Seth Walsh—day-in, day-out for years—at schools filled with bigoted little monsters created not in the image of a loving God, but in the image of the hateful and false "followers of Christ" they call Mom and Dad.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Affirmations To Find True Love (Otherwise Known As What You Tell Yourself When You Think Love Is A Crock)

So, I get emails every day from this website with inspirational quotes and messages and so forth.  Hey, don't judge me because now a days, I'd rather punch someone in the face before they even open their mouth to speak rather then letting them say something stupid and then punching them in the face.  Today's email had these 9 affirmation that you should repeat to yourself in the mirror every morning to help you find your true love.  Now, I'm a firm believer that Disney and every romantic comedy ("You mean to tell me that there really isn't anyone like Lloyd Dobbler out there for me?!?!) screwed us all up with the notion of a true love and that you can have more than one love of your life.  I happen to very conveniently confuse lust with love so maybe this email should really mean something to me.  Then again, maybe not.


Fear and Worry: Love will never find me (Let's consider for a second that you  might be living on some remote island where the only inhabitants are you and your goat.  How in the hell would you expect for love to find you.  Unless you're into zoophilia, then you wouldn't have to look any further than your barn, would you?  For everyone else, love's found you.  You either misunderstood Love's drunken advances or were sleeping.  I'm sure I was sleeping.  Or I could have been too drunk to notice.)
Try this Affirmation:
I open my heart to myself and I trust that true love will follow.

Fear and Worry: I am unlovable and feel unworthy of being loved. (Are you grotesque?  Are you a head and spinal cord living in a box with a traveling freak show?  Have you not seen some of the funky looking people of the world that have managed to marry and procreate?

 Trust me, you are not that unbecoming where you can be deemed unlovable.  Unless you are in jail for multiple homicide and will never see the light of day again.)
Try this affirmation:
I am lovable and worthy of receiving love. (No shit?  Really?)


Fear and Worry: I am too depressed to be in a relationship. (Look, everyone goes through moments in their life where life seems bleak and you don't want to get out of bed and wish you could wrap yourself in your comforter all day long.  How do you think the pharmaceutical companies stay in business?  But there's hope - every hear of the saying "Misery loves company"?  Well, go out and find that equally miserable person and the 2 of you just might make each other happy.  If not, you can always trade pills.)
Try this affirmation:
I choose to rejoice. My soul mate will be attracted to my joy!

Fear and Worry: I have too much emotional and life baggage. (Everyone has baggage, whether it be emotional or otherwise.  It's how you decide you're gong to carry it around.  Unfashionable fanny pack or in Prada, baby!)
Try this affirmation:
I release whatever is standing in the way of love

Fear and Worry: I always choose the wrong partners. (This one is especially for me.  I seem to create the most beautiful and awesome children from some of the most awful men on the planet.  Case in point, one is in jail and the other is dead, both thanks to drugs.  I sure know how to pick 'em.  But I will be the first to admit that I know I pick them wrong because the Saint Agatha, Patron Saint to Nurses, believes that I can fix them and make them better.  I pick the crazy assholes because I find that I'm attracted to the slightly crazy. [Hence my unhealthy attraction to Marines.]  I am consciously aware of my bad decisions.  Can I change them?  Sure I can.  Do I believe by repeating an affirmation every morning that I will change it?  Hell no.  What I need to do is start carrying around a check list with such things as "Went to college", "Does not have multiple kids but 6 different women", "Has grown out of wearing his tuxedo t-shirt to formal occasions" on it.  Then I might find someone good.)
Try this affirmation:
I say goodbye to the wrong relationships and say hello to true love.

Fear and Worry: I am too old or unattractive to find love. (This one bothers me because a lot of women now a days have put off children and marriage to pursue other avenues in their lives.  To this I say "YOU GO, MS. DIVA!!"  And, a lot of guys have let their inner player out to play for a bit too long and end up marrying a 20 year who will inevitably divorce him a few years later and bleed him dry.  But, I digress.  No one is too old to find love.  You can always hear stories in any retirement home where 2 widowers meet and fall in love and get married at age 80.  It happens.  As for the ugly part, take a look at this - 
 
Try this affirmation:
I am beautiful and young at heart and I express my beauty from the inside out.

Fear and Worry: I feel confused about real love and don’t trust myself to find it. (What makes you think that anyone has any idea about true love.  They only know what worked for them.  Everyone and their mother can give you all kinds of advice but you need to find out what works for through trial and error.  Will you ever get it right?  How the hell should I know?  I obviously haven't but I can always hope I will.)
Try this affirmation:
I let my soul guide me to my soul mate and trust it knows the way.

Fear and Worry: Maybe God is passing me by for love and happiness. (With whatever deity you might pray to, do you really believe that their only job in all the universes is to find you a soul mate?  Forget about famine, disease, cruelty and abuse.  Your love life is the only thing that is important to your god.  Right.  What your god wants you to do is get off your ass, get out of the lonely people chat rooms and get outside into the real world.  How do you ever expect to meet anyone from the comfort of your couch?  Think about it.)
Try this affirmation:
My time has come. Love is in the air. I breathe it in and embrace it as my own.

And, last but not least.....

Fear and Worry: I will never find happiness in my life. (Dude, there's medication for this type of unhappiness.  They don't call it a "Happy Prozac Morning" for nothing.  Get thee to a doctor!)
 
Try this affirmation:
Happiness is mine for the claiming. I choose happiness now.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

If I could find a way to bottle the womanly self- confience and the "F*ck you, guy, keep a-steppin'" vibe Mary J. Blige sings about, I'd make millions!

The definition of exhaustion

According to www.dicitonary.com, the definition of exhaustion is:

ex·haus·tion[ig-zaws-chuhn] 

–noun
1.the act or process of exhausting.
2.the state of being exhausted.
3.extreme weakness or fatigue.
4. the total consumption of something

You would figure that science would have come up with something better than coffee, Red Bull or Monster to combat exhaustion for single mothers of young children but it hasn't.  So, unless I want to turn into a drug addict constantly sniffing coke or mainlining meth, I'm basically shit out of luck.  

Someone had the nerve to ask me today (after being stuck in traffic for over an hour and a half thanks to the moronic drivings of the majority of South Floridians.  6 accidents on the way to work and it wasn't even raining.  Really, Miami?!?!  6?!?!) why I looked so tired.  After I fought the urge to drop kick them in the head, I explained that the baby is teething again and only wants to sleep on me which, in turns, means no sleep for me.  So, for the last 48 hours I have slept around a total of 5 hours.  How I manage to walk around sounding cheerful is still a mystery.


My goal for tonight - pray furiously to every God and deity that the baby stays asleep for at least 5 consecutive hours so I can stop piling on the concealer every morning and give my face a break. If that doesn't work, I think I'm going to shoot myself int he foot to spend a few days in the hospital.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Boobs: Thanks for the Mammaries

So, with my very first post, I give you - BOOBS.  Why, you may ask.  It's simple really.  I have them.  I've had them fully grown to a size larger than the national average since I was 16.  I have the accompanying neck, shoulder and back ailments that come with having larger than life breasts.  I've used them to memorize guys into believing I was beautiful, get free drinks, and free VIP access.  I've been used for them because most guys have a boob fetish and salivate over getting their hands on them.  The girls define me, even when I try to deny it.  So, here's my history with my boobs.  I somehow knew I would be bigger than my friends when I was 12 and I started growing faster than everyone else.  By the time I got into high school, I hated having to run anywhere (because it hurts, damn it!) or get into a bathing suit if guys were going to be around.  Finding a dress for my Sweet 16 was a nightmare since I had the perfect dress engraved into my dreams and wouldn't settle for anything less. (Looking back, I wonder what the hell possessed me to want to wear miles of white taffeta and lace.)  I was never a thin girl, but constantly trying to hide the fact that I was beyond well-endowed in the chest area had me gaining weight.  At 17, my mom gave me the simply advice of "You do know if you loose weight, you'll loose some breast fat as well since it is fat tissue."  It was as if a light bulb went off in my head and I started working out and eating better.  Lo and behold, I started getting a smaller waist line but my boobs just started looking bigger and bigger. Not what I was going for but I found it worked for me.  Into my twenties I went flying and had more than my share of over-self-confidence.  This is when I learned that guys became glossy-eyed and their IQ lowered from the mere sight of them pushed up and out by the proper bra and low cut shirts.  This helped incredibly with getting free drinks, free VIP access, free clothes, etc. for me and my friends. Now, 2 kids and many years later, they have become such a part of me that when I think of breast reduction, I almost cringe.  Yes, I would finally be free of my shoulders feeling like solid rock and my lower back would not lock up but why on Earth would I want to get rid of such a significant part of me?  For better or worse, they are who I am and I'm proud of them.  Yes, I still have to snap my fingers in front of some guys' faces and remind them that my face is a bit further North but they are me.  My eldest daughter looks at me in despair when I tell her she'll be big one day too.  The only thing I can do is adjust them and smile.