Discontented Wandering Mind

Here. Present! Accounted for...

She was good at being organized. She had her checkbook balanced to the penny. She had all of her recipes filed away, alphabetically, of course. Her undies were folded. Socks matched up and made into little white and beige soft folded balls. Her closet was a rainbow of shirts, slacks, dresses, skirts and jeans. All ironed and hung neatly by type and color.

She got her nails done every other week and also had highlights put in every 3^rd month.

Stylish little hair do – Check

Fake Acrylic Nails – Check

She volunteered for her local Red Cross and her Republican Party. She was a flourishing member of her local community. She went to all of the local Chamber of Commerce dinners. Kanoodled with the local big wigs. She went to tasting and drank wine and sampled new dishes from up and coming chefs. Spent weekends at friends houses bar-b-qing with other couples.

She had it together.

"Had it together" come to find out, for her, was the bastard child of loneliness.

It was the worst type of lonely you can feel. The type when you have someone sitting next to you. The kind of lonely that results from a deficiency of communication so deep diversion upholds sanity.

But she could find a Telephone Bill from 1999 filed correctly within twenty-five seconds of realizing one was needed. All without chipping her French Manicure or letting the Roast burn in the oven.

Funny, how she was tricking her own mind and never realized it. Clouding it with things that didn't matter to avoid dealing with the issues at hand; fooling it with an organized life.

She concentrated her life with grocery lists, recipes, volunteer schedules and how exactly to perfect that roux she so longingly tried to master.

Roux? Is she Serious?

She was twenty five, and had her own mind, friends, & family fooled.

She had herself fooled.

Then one day she was forced to wake the fuck up. Shoved into a reality she barely realized existed but none the less ignored. Ignorance is bliss until it jumps at you unexpectedly and gives you a nice one two punch combo to the jaw.

Then you have no choice. Fight or Flight. Right?

That was a big day. Busy day. Eventful if you will. And this day was carried out without her "To-Do" list she carried neatly tucked in her purse.

There wasn't any Windex present. No flour. No mass mailings to do to remind everyone

"Saturday night, fund raiser. Don't forget to bring a covered dish! It will be a fantastic evening to raise money and celebrate with Friends and Associates!!"

None of that was there that day. And oddly enough those things would rarely show up again in her life.

That was the day she ripped off her own nails, burned the recipes, and forgot for 3 months she even HAD a checking account.

She and reality were about to go 12 rounds that lasted 5 years.

Actually, it still may be an ongoing bout.

It's a good thing she punches back better now without the fake nails. She doesn't even like fake nails now. They represent something she doesn't ever want to be again. She is now a meer ghost of that perky highlighted, volunteering, housewife.

As she refers to her lovingly "The dumb mindless one"

Barely a memory of that woman exists. A notion is all that remains. A confidence that if nothing else, she will never be that woman again.

The person she has become now is Strong, tough, self-sufficient, independent.

Now the Question arises...

Is the person she has become just the one that was created to pushed out the other?

The one who was assigned to beat up that weak bitch until she was unrecognizable?

Or is who she is now, actually her?

Or is she really just a miss mash combination of both of those women?

Who is she now that she has escaped her past?

Louise

She checked out her cuticles. "Damn, is there ONE decent place in Ft. Polk Louisiana to get my nails done?"

She started to push back her cuticles with her opposite hand. "I really really wish I hadn't forgotten my book. I would read a fucking VD pamphlet right now if I had it."

A quick survey of the place showed NO reading materials. The vending machines were bare. Not a soul in the place except Betty, Jeanine, Lois, Edna, and good old Louise.

She loved Louise. Louise was the best in the place. Louise was hard working, did the job, but was gentle and that was the exact combination she needed. There were others lined up but the black stenciled names had long been worn away.

Only in Louisiana did they name their dryers. They were the LARGE commercial variety in a dumpy Laundromat in Leesville. The washers were normal, the kind you would find in your house. But the dryers, oh the dryers… These were front loading, avocado green, mammoths. You could fit two loads into one and cut your time in half.

And Louise was the girl for her. Bette tended to never get hot enough. No matter how many quarters you fed her. The others were ok, but Louise was the belle of the laundry ball.

Since she picked prime time to be here, Wednesday at 7pm, church time for the locals, she was left in peace to listen and wait for the washer click letting her know that it was time to transfer the clothes and that she was only about 45 minutes from getting the hell out of here.

One day she would have a washer and dryer. They wouldn't be fancy but they would do the trick. And she was always amazed how excited she got to do laundry now that she didn't have to haul her and her husband's clothes twice a week to be laundered.

I mean, she just had to walk to the back of the house and start it up. Go watch TV, or cook dinner, or practice fucking Tai Chi. Whatever she wanted!!

That day was to come soon, but for her not soon enough.


CLICK


"Sweet Jesus thank you." She got up, officially bored out of her mind, and dragged the two green plastic laundry baskets and began the chore of lifting 4 loads of wet laundry and transferring it to the dryer.

Towels, jeans, sheets, sweaters, BDU's, cook white's, scrubs, undies, boxers, anything she could find to gather up after work and get clean so she wouldn't have to come back until at least Saturday.

She sat back down, crossed her legs and began to look at her toes. She needed a pedicure too. That hooker at "Curl up and Dye" cut her cuticles last time. "Not going back there, and I doubt I am welcome since I did kick her in the chin."

She takes a quick mental inventory of what she has at home to do a quickie pedi.

Her thoughts are broken by the door opening and a man of about thirty walked in. He had dirty brown hair, a red hat, white t-shirt, and an old pair of jeans.

She thought, "Oh good the Maintenance Mr. is here." See, normally in these places there is a guy. He wears coveralls and makes sure the lint traps are clean, sweeps, makes sure there is no hogging of the washers and most importantly he took good care of Louise. It was dusk, and this was about the time he would be in.

She didn't see car lights behind her so he must live near by. Typical for this area. Not many folk drive. A good amount walk. Even if it is 107 degrees and it feels like you walk into a hair dryer on Hi when you walk out of the house. They still walk.

This particular place was a quite a find, open till 10pm and off the beaten path. She called it "LAUNDRY GOLD." She had only been here about 4 times but had already decided this was it for her until they could save up enough for a W&D of their very own.

A packed Laundromat is the kiss of death. You can spend six hours doing five loads and you can kiss that day GOODBYE. She had this down to an art. If you are going to play white trash wifey-poo in "The end of the earth" Louisiana then you better have your smarts about you.

She went back to examining and criticizing her cuticles.

He walked in and went to the back corner where Bette met in the corner with what looked like "Glna" the lettering had worn off, so she hadn't bothered using it.

And there he stood.

He didn't go in the back and put on his coveralls. He didn't grab the broom or check to make sure the Tide, snuggle, and spray and wash were fully stocked in the "Laundro-vend."

She looked up and glanced at her dryer darling Louise.

He put his hands in his pockets.

And then it came.

The feeling.

She had never felt this before. It was a wave. A scream from the inside of her that said something is very fucking wrong and she didn't know if she was being silly or just out right paranoid.

"Maybe he is waiting on the wife to lug in the laundry. Or maybe he has a load in one of the washers from earlier in the day"

He just stood.

The feeling began to overtake her stomach. Ate at it so hard she had to bend a little because it was beginning to hurt.

This was 1998 and there were no cell phones. A quick look over her right shoulder showed what she remembered, an "out of order" sign on the one pay phone outside. Her car was still secure and lonesome about 20 feet from where she sat.

He finally spoke. "You seen a red truck?"

"Nah, not since I have been here" she croaked. She all of a sudden realized the feeling that was eating at her had sucked all her saliva from her throat and mouth. It felt like trying to talk with a throat full of sand.


No response. No movement, No flicker of ANYTHING.


*fuck*



This is what repeated in her mind over and over. In her thoughts it was quiet. A whisper. Almost afraid if she thought it too loud he could hear her think it.
She quickly and very unconvincingly thought "He hasn't done anything. What is wrong with me??"

He scratched his arm.

Her palms were drenched all of a sudden, and her long hair, tied in a bun started to feel like a pile of hot dry hay sitting on top of her head. And she began to sweat profusely.

He adjusted his hat.

And what happened next changed her forever...

Staying Safe

Kelsey Smith, a 2 week High School Graduate from Kansas, was abducted Saturday night from a Target Parking lot while running a quick errand. Target surveillance shows her walking into Target, walking out, and then shows a man shove her in the passenger seat of her own car and driving away.

An intense search was mounted for Kelsey by her family and her community. Her family said she was a feisty girl and is surprised she didn't basically, "kick that guys ass" when he shoved her in her car.

I hadn't heard anything about this until yesterday morning on the radio. The DJ was discussing her clothing. She was wearing a pink tank top and a pair of black cheer shorts. He stated that no one deserved or asks for any type of crime by what they are wearing, but suggested that parents warn their teens about their attire.

What if her outfit caught the man's eye who abducted her? This to me was very thought provoking. As a woman I wanted to revolt and say "NO, I can wear whatever I want!!"

But you can't. Well you can, but there can be consequences.

We all have free will in this country and can wear whatever we want. But young girls, pre-teens, and teens need to have a dose of reality that there are horrible, sick, twisted people in this world. That is the constant we can not change.

What we can change is how we present ourselves when we are in public. When we travel alone. When we are running into Target to buy our new boyfriends a birthday gift. Just like Kelsey Smith was doing Saturday night.

I will fully admit. She could have been 65 years old, with a walker and wearing the latest polyester fashion and still could be abducted. There is no telling what sets off the sick people of the world who abduct, rape, torture, and kill.

My point of all of this is to remind all of us girls, teens, and women about being safe. To ensure we do not inadvertently put ourselves in danger or make ourselves more venerable.

Each day we go about our lives on our daily routines. Sometimes on auto pilot. Like driving along and thinking, wow, I don't even remember that last stretch of road!

That can be the case when we are going into work, going to lunch, running errands, checking the mail, walking into the gym, etc. My thought is, when you are on your own, alone, have a small child or children with you there are things you need to remember to ensure your safety.

Things we don't think about because no one ever assumes they will be abducted in a Target after running in for a small gift. No one. Not me, not you. But it does happen. It is reality for some. I am just hoping these tips I found on Safety for Women.com will remind us just to be a bit more aware. Remember our safety is priority number one... And not to forget this in the normal day to day hub bub.

These are tips I found helpful, and I hope they find you the same.

General:
If you see or sense problems on your way, just change your route and - prepare to run or defend yourself

Do not wear conspicuous jewelry when you are walking on the streets alone

Do not hitchhike, use buses or taxis instead

Do not act or look like an easy target - look confident!

Most "fights" are won before they start, and aggressors will back down if you maintain eye contact and are not intimidated by them.

Public transport:
Remember, there is usually safety in numbers. Wait in a coffee shop or in a well lit area for the public transport to arrive

Don't choose the window seat as you may be "blocked in" by a potential assailant; always choose an aisle seat for quick exit

After peak hours, always choose the train compartment carrying the most passengers or the compartment directly behind the train driver

On buses, sit behind the driver or next to the door for quick exit.

Motor vehicles:
Danger areas are stepping out of your car either at home or in isolated areas, and also walking to your car

Always approach your vehicle with the keys ready

Windows should be up and doors locked even when driving to avoid unwanted passengers at intersections. (Please note that this conflicts with quick entering and exit procedures in the event of an accident)

Always check your car before entering

Never leave your car unlocked, even for the few minutes it may take you to return a video, buy milk and so forth. Attackers have been known to lie in wait for such an opportunity.

Never get into a car even if someone is pointing a knife or a handgun at you from inside. Just start to run away from the car screaming at the same time. It's much more likely that he will drive away to find an easier target than attacking or killing you. But if you get into the car, he has a much better opportunity to drive to a quiet place and start to abuse you and later maybe kill you.

Never pull your car over from a quiet road even if someone drives alongside your car pointing at the tires etc. Always continue driving to a well-lit and crowded area before exiting your car. The problem might be a bluff and the driver wants you to stop at the side of the road to "help" you without a reason.

Always be alert in parking lots, specially when it's dark. If you are afraid, don't be too shy to ask someone to escort you to your car. Between cars and inside cars, it's easy for someone to hide and wait until an distracted person comes along.

Taxis:
Always check the identification of the driver (usually located near the visor) and ensure that it matches the driver

Be wary of cars with central locking

Don't sit behind the driver as it may be easy for the driver to lock the rear passenger door - always choose the adjacent seat

Always order taxis so that the driver can be traced

Avoid flagging taxis from the street

Walkers / joggers:
If you have car trouble and are walking to look for help, always walk against the traffic so that you can see what is coming

If shadowed by a car, run back in the direction from which you came. If you continue in the same direction, you will make it easy for the shadowing to continue

Don't use a "walkman" when walking in isolated areas at any time

Regularly change your routines - I like this one. Good idea...

Mark out houses at intervals on each route you take that may be used as "safe houses" in the event of attack such as shops or houses that you know to be occupied by a friend or acquaintance. Try to incorporate these houses every time you vary your route

Be alert at all times - This is where I falter. I zone out. I think being alert of surroundings can be any one's best protection.

Don't presume that because your area has been "safe" thus far, that it will continue to be so.

Public phone boxes:
When you are calling from a telephone box, after dialing the numbers always turn around so that you have your back to the phone and may see what is coming. You will then be able to tell the person to whom you are speaking that you may be in trouble and you may be able to use the weight of the phone as a weapon.The door of a telephone box could be used to wedge in the limbs of the attacker.

Clothing:
Think about your clothing - where will it be worn? Will you be going out after work? Get into the habit of leaving restrictive clothing and shoes for those occasions when you are certain that you have no reason to anticipate danger, such as large crowds, being picked up after work or going out and so forth.

Choose a wardrobe which maximizes freedom of movement. The best self defense techniques will not help you if you cannot run away because of tight skirts or shoes with straps and high heels. In these situations, it will be necessary to disable your attacker to ensure you are not followed unless you have some means of a quick exit such as a motor vehicle. This places additional, unnecessary pressure on you to be successful. Further, if you focus too much attention on disabling you opponent, you may not be sufficiently aware of an additional threat to yourself

These are good tips I found. I have also been told when you arrive home or when you go out to your car. Stop, and look around. Especially if you live in an apartment or are in a parking lot. Attackers are less likely to approach a person who is aware of what is going on. They want to catch you off guard. At your most venerable.

The point of all of this is, I want everyone to be safe. It is a beautiful wonderful world out there. Full of possibilities and hope. But it is also a harsh, cruel world for some. If there are just a few things that we can do to help avoid what Kelsey Smith went through and now what her family is going through, then isn't it worth it?

Anything is better than this...

Kelsey Smith's body was found about 1:30 p.m. across the state line near
Grandview, Mo., about 20 miles east of the abduction site in Overland Park, Kan.

God Bless her and her Family.

May you all be safe. I would rather spend days reveling in the world's beauty than in its dangers.

Hatori Hanzo Anyone? - Repost

(June 2006)

With my 29th (now 30th!) birthday looming I have been forced to take a hard look in the mirror. And I don't mean when you are checking out your pores and seriously rethinking your facial regimen. Speaking of which, is facial cleanser like shampoo, you have to switch it up from time to time to have it work better? Sorry, I am deliriously tired and may veer from subject to incoherent dribble from time to time

Back to the 372 days before my 30th Birthday. Yeah, I actually had to bust out the accessories and calculator function to figure that one out. Scary accountant confessions. Anywho, I have had so many things happen to me lately that have made me stop and reflect back. Then I ran across a picture.

Yes folks, it was Sarah D. She was 17 and woke up late to get her senior picture taken because she had snuck out the night before to drink Zima, play Asshole, and party with the boys my mother warned me about till 5:30am. This was the summer I snuck out every night after my midnight curfew. And depending on who took me home they all had to hold my hand on the way home just in case all the lights in the house were on and my mom was going to give me a beating that would cause even Tonya Harding to say "Damn, that is a bit excessive don't you think?!?!"

This young girl here with long sun drenched hair and traces of baby fat was full of dreams and delusions. Ahhhhhh, youth. This girl said, who needs college when I can work and live on my own? I mean, making 8 bucks an hour will surely glide me into retirement at the ripe ole age of 132. Yeah, because at 17 I was thinking about retirement. Oh how things change. I moved out of my house because if I didn't my mother and I would have eaten each other alive like hamsters (you know, how they eat their young if not separated until they reach maturity). I actually saw this happen, it isn't pretty. Note to parents, unless you want your kid reliving this little scene in therapy 20 years from now, SEPARATE THE HAMSTERS WHEN THEY PROCREATE. I digress

I spent the next 11 years making some good decisions and bad one's. Granted, I don't regret any decisions, but I do wish there was some sort of manual or guide book that could have put me in a bit of a better direction. Maybe college and a degree before I got married. Maybe making sure my marriage was a bit more secure before we decided to have a child. Please no one misunderstand me. I would walk through the gates of hell 40 times over again if it meant having Noah in my life. I mean who wouldn't give everything they have for my 4 foot bundle of little man??

But I think there was a better way for me to approach things. I attribute all this to youth and thinking I knew everything.

As I get older I realize more and more every day, I don't know anything. I mean absolutely nothing. Up is down, the sky is actually green, and I am still absolutely SHOCKED that tight legged jeans and leggings are coming back into style. Speaking of which I will never delve into either of these fashion atrocities again, no matter how many praying mantis stick figure models pimp them out. As I said before I don't know shit. But having this little epiphany was one of the most liberating moments of my life.

I can remember the exact moment I began to truly comprehend this. I was sitting in mediation with my soon to be ex husband. I was quietly observing our lawyers snarling at each other and fighting over the $7.50 monthly charge to send the child support through the State of Florida and who should bear this massive burden. I sat there with my hands folded in my lap feeling my blood pressure rise up so high it felt like my right arm was going to explode and my right eye was going to shoot out of the socket right there onto the cherry finished 8 seater table in the lawyers office. I fully expected his lawyer to snag my recently popped optic, hold it in the air and scream in all of his jabba the hut manliness "MY CLIENT REFUSES TO PAY THE MEDICAL BILLS FOR THIS, SHE DIDN'T ADD THIS TO HER INCOME/EXPENSES WORKSHEET!!" And then watch him slam it down and see it squish between his fingers. It was a very Kill Bill kind of moment. I did not grab my handy dandy Hattori Hanzo sword and make bloody ribbons out of his lawyer even though damn that would have been nice. Instead, I sat up mid bicker and slammed my hands on the table and said the following:

"I will pay the fucking $7.50 fee if it will make you ALL shut the hell up. Is this what a cheating husband brings you? Is this what I get for giving this relationship the last 10 years of my life? If that is the case fuck you and fuck him and fuck this. Get the papers ready and show me where to sign so this nightmare of a fucking situation can come to an end." I tend to say "FUCK" a lot when I get angry.

I signed at 3:20pm that day and brought an end to my marriage.

I cried my eyes out that night feeling like the biggest failure known to man. But then I began to realize that sometimes (ok most of the time) shit happens. Nothing goes as planned and that is OK. That is life, so suck it up, realize your dilemma and do your best to not end up on welfare and in government housing just to foot the day care bill. Fast forward 3 years, I got a job making 10 grand more a year, got my 2 year degree, loved on and nurtured my son every day, and after dating that left MUCH to be desired I found a wonderful man I have fell head over heels in love with. All the time knowing and loving the fact, I don't know shit. I still have 101,000 things I want to accomplish for myself and for my son. I think every day that I realize I know less than the day before I come closer to true independence or as I call it, my ZEN.

Nothing but acceptance of uncertainty and happiness on my face now Doesn't get much better than that. Hence, my headline Aun Aprendo. Still Learning...

Preacher's Wife Shoots from the Hip - Repost

(August 2006)

I normally try to not blog or comment on certain things such as race, religion, politics, current events, etc. I keep my lip zipped for several personal reasons and for the most part, some things I have an opinion about, but I dont have enough information to say one way or the other. I am the kind of gal who likes to know every little detail before I spout out my holier than thou opinion.

But, as I was drinking my coffee this morning I ran across this article on CNN.com and well frankly I about fell out Who do you have to blow in Selmer, TN to get a "Get out of Jail Free" Card???

I have played Monopoly for years and I figured Mr. Monopoly used his Get Out of jail free card for things like when he got caught with a prostitute over on Baltic Avenue. Or when he got caught smuggling funds from the Community Chest for a raging meth habit. But to use one to walk out of jail on bond for premeditated murder, well that is a new one even for me.

I must disclaimer here and say, I dont know what drove Mary Winkler to walk into her bedroom with a shot gun and shoot her preacher husband in the back. I have read that perhaps it was due to financial stress and heightened verbal and emotional abuse. And believe you me; I dont condone abuse in any form or fashion. But come on, a shot gun blast while he was sleeping? Why not just leave? It isnt 1949 and she was trapped due to no alternatives for women. I mean we have come a long way baby, get the hell out. Leave, Vamoose, Get to steppin.

Now, if she had shot him in the middle of a beating all Burning Bed like, or even right after something like that, fine. I would understand that, and can't say I wouldnt shoot the bastard myself. But as much as verbal and emotional abuse can be just as serious as physical abuse, you dont just kill the person doing it. Sorry, but not only have you screwed up your life, your kids are going to be in therapy till they are 90...

And the most shocking part, her explanation for all of this is My Ugly came out. WTF? Your ugly came out?!?! You blew your hubby away, fled with your kids, and now you are released on bond working at the Mr. Dry-clean on 2nd and Felmore Ave. Good to know...

I thought if you managed to kill someone premeditatedly, flee with the kiddies, get caught, and confess, you were kinda in the clink for a few dozen lifetimes. Am I wrong about this? Well, regardless of my feelings as to why she needed to put a hole in the man she married and sat across from breakfast with each morning instead of packing up, giving him the double finger and leaving, my question and concern is WHY is this woman walking around free? Is it because she looks harmless? Is it because she was a preachers wife? Either way, this chick got fed up and went all Dick Cheney on her man, instead of the 40 other options she may have had. And now this lovely lady will be asking you if you need extra starch in your collar at the corner dry cleaner. Hence why I dont dry clean anything. EVER.

Wonders never cease.

Don't disturb my Groove - Repost

(June 2006 Single Girl Blog)

I am officially hanging the sign upon the door that says...Dont disturb this groove.

I found this song and laugh my ass off every time I hear it. But it actually has deeper philosophical meaning to me today. I was informed today that I am dysfunctional and basically a relationship leper. These are the facts as they were presented to me:

1. People are concerned about me because I havent re-married or even come close in almost four years.

2. If I want any more kids I better get out there and find me a man because and I quote, You arent getting any younger-- Thanks for the stab and then the squirt of lemon juice into the gaping wound.

3. I am too picky and discard relationships too easily. I should be thankful that any half way decent man would have me since I am a single mother.

I truly believe the person who explained this to me wasnt trying to be malicious. There was genuine concern in their voice for my emotional well being. I think they were befuddled as to how I manage to get out of bed every day knowing that I am incomplete without a steady man in my life.

I responded to this person with the following speech.

Why is it, I am viewed as incomplete without a significant other? I can do anything married people can do, and even better. Yes, it sucks at 2am when I am dying for a sandwich and cant get the mayonnaise jar open. But you know what, I just use mustard. Crisis averted. I can come and go as I please and I answer to no one. I have developed the most wonderful relationships with my friends and I dont think that would be possible if I was in a serious committed relationship. I pay my own bills and clean up my own messes. I date and I date often and have met some great people in the process. I do what I want when I want. Why would I want to force that to end?

Then there was silence on the end of the line--- I am positive she seriously considered divorcing her husband in the 10 seconds of silence we shared. I allowed her this time to contemplate. I could almost read her mind-- Ohhhh, so single people arent miserable lonely individuals with nothing to live for but the next person in their lives. They actually have fun and dont have to deal with anyone until they are good and ready. Hmmm. I wonder how much divorces really cost now adays. End silence and then she came with the considerate-- I just want you to be happy. And my reply is-- I am.

Please understand, I have nothing against marriage or serious relationships. I just happen not to be in one. I dont think I should be tied up and burned at the stake because I dont fit into social norm. After the big D, at first I did think the quickest path to happiness was to find someone to be with and maybe re-marry to obtain that oh so familiar comfort zone I was more addicted to than nicotine. Not so much. That train of thought led me to dating people who were complete jack-off's that smelled my venerability a mile away... and had no problem using it to their advantage. Ahhhh, live and learn...

I know that men go through this too, but I dont think with as much scrutiny as women do. I find it laughable that society expects you to wed when more than half of marriages end in divorce. I find it hold my stomach funny that people feel I need to remarry because statistics show that people who re-marry within five years have a 70 percent chance of divorce, and it gets much worse with the third marriage. Thanks to the Childrens First in Divorce class the State of Florida requires all of us sad divorcees with children to take, for the prior little factoids.

So to all of those who have contemplated sitting me down and having a similar conversation with me. You know the one about the supposed downward spiral my life is going in since I am not sprinting towards the altar with the first putz I spend more than 6 months with, save your breath for yelling at your hubby to put the toilet seat down... Muah!

**Update**

My sweetie and I are approaching one year together and are embarking on our first month living together as we speak.

I couldn't be any happier if I tried...

Go figure? '-)

YOU SLUT! - Repost

(July 2006)
The almighty Red Headed Slut motivated me to post this blog starting around ohhhhh, 2:45am. I have recently become quite the night owl. I get up at 6am each morning, yet I can't seem to put head to pillow until well after 1am. But tonight I said to myself, it is time to hang out with the girls. This decision reacquainted me with "her", The Red Headed Slut, or as I like to call her drunken death in a 4oz shot glass. The evening started off slut free and innocently enough

I was invited to a birthday dinner for one of my friends and my plan was to go to dinner, go get my son, go home and go to bed. Like a good little mommy should. Not so much. I wound up not having my son tonight and went bar hoping locally with about 15 friends and acquaintances. This isn't as exciting as it sounds even though we did manage to make it a fun little outing. I was born, raised, and reside again on an island that is 5 miles long and 3 miles wide. The night life in Fernandina is comparable to cow tipping. Stupid, but yet we keep doing it out of sheer boredom as a sad attempt at entertainment. (I know nothing about cow tipping except what I have learned from the movies, but it seemed like a good comparison.) Fernandina night life is very routine. Dinner, go to the Turtle, then off to either the Palace or the Falcons Nest. Tonight all of my girl friends and their boyfriends decided to go to the Falcons Nest so they can dance. This is the only place on the island where you can get your groove on to something besides Bob Marley or Jimmy Buffet.

I personally hate dancing. My ex husband made fun of the way I danced (among many other things) so I am still fairly phobic about dancing. I do feel better and better about it as time goes by and each time I Get Low, Shake my Lovely Lady Lumps, or Back that azz up

I actually dance very well, or so I am told. But due to my hang-ups I have to be fairly intoxicated to even get near the dance floor. This is where the problem starts and my Red headed friend rears her ugly head. I started the evening off very responsibly drinking 2 beers at a local pub and feeling good and sober then we are off to the Nest. It always goes the same way, my friends try and pry me from my chair with pleas to get out there and dance with them as if they don't already know the routine...

I say as I always do. "I am not drunk enough to dance." That is where I always fuck up. They all toss shot after shot at me to help me achieve a "dancing buzz" as quickly as possible. I shun their offers for about 20 minutes. Then I finally, as I always do, say FUCK IT, just take the damned shots.

Enter bar left, the Red Headed Slut. She is made of Jager and something red, tastes like either Cherry Kool-Aid or Anti-freeze. Regardless, I did two in a row at the cheering of all of my friends Then proceeded to drink 2 more Corona's. Fast forward 20 minutes, I am out on the dance floor feeling as comfortable as a Solid Gold dancer via 1982. Shaking my ass and getting my groove on to one of my favorite songs, "Let me clear my throat" ala DJ Kool. I asked the DJ, whom I went to HS with, to play this little ditty because there were only 10 people on the dance floor and frankly it was pathetic (but made for excellent people watching activities). The hard wood consisted of tourists and a bridal party dancing like they are on fire and practicing Stop, Drop, and Roll to the beat of Ludacris. No one else was brave enough to break the dance threshold.

Once he started this little blast from the past the dance floor filled immediately and we proceeded to dance our asses off. Then because my local DJ loves me and knows me oh so well he then proceeded to play "Set it off" by, I have no fucking clue because it is from 1990 and is totally obscure. He knows I love it and plays it when he sees me hit the dance floor. I suppose there are advantages to going to school with 1/3 of the town you reside in. I digress, there are also several disadvantages. But that is a blog of another color meant for another day

The point of this slightly intoxicated blog is this. I hate that Red Headed bitch that frequently seems to be my social/alcohol accelerant of choice. Some nights it is Petron, some nights it is some odd colored cleverly named concoction that a friend or drunken bar patron insists is the best shot EVER. BTW- It always ends up tasting like a glass of Berry Juicy Juice mixed with 2 shots of Drain-O.

I wrap up this verbal regurgitation feeling my buzz fading, my head clearing, and my eyes focusing (Thanks to 2 Excedrin and Gatoraid.) The slut can be a bitch but luckily never overstays her welcome. One thing to be thankful for...

I hope everyone has a pleasant 4th of July and please, I beg all of you, be safe with you fireworks. If I receive one more video in my e-mail of a jack ass trying to launch a bottle rocket from between his ass cheeks my brain is going to implode. This is so ignorant I can't stand it yet I have seen 3 separate videos of different men attempting this task. FYI-You will catch your ass on fire. So be smart and safe with your fireworks. I have friends who work in ER's on the 4th and they don't want to see you there with 3rd degree ass burns.

Toodles~~