Pet Peeves


I’m a bit of a curmudgeon, so I have a lot of pet peeves.

1. We all make mistakes. Humans, by nature, are NOT infallible. Please, for the love of all that’s good and right in the world, proofread. Nothing makes me want to stop reading a blog faster than someone too lazy or quick on the draw to hit that send button before making sure they’re using the right “their” over there!!!!

2. Eating like a cow chewing cud is a big negative in my house. As appealing as your dinner looks on your plate, I don’t need to see it being masticated. Also, please trust me when I say, anything you need to say to me can wait until you’ve swallowed that bite.

3. People who just post a “news” story without researching it. This happens on social media A LOT!! Seriously, ma! I don’t think Channing Tatum died in a freak skiing accident (damn it all to hell!). No, Facebook is not going to close your account if you don’t post that stupid legal notice.

4. OPMs aka. Other People’s Monsters.  My children are not the best behaved. I admit that. They ARE NOT the ones in a restaurant screaming at the top of their lungs, or running between the tables. They ARE NOT the ones in a movie theater that will just not shut up. I know you think it’s just darling that little Susie asks you a million questions about whyistheboybeingmeantothegirl and whydoesthegirlstilllovetheboy and whydoesthebutteronthepopcorncomeoutsoyellow and whycan’tihavecandy and whydoesthesodamakemytummyhurt and whyisthatladytellingmeshhhhhhhuuush and ireallyreallyreallyneedtopee and MOMMYINEEDTOGOPOTTYRIGHTNOW!!!, but the other members of the audience who also paid good money to see this movie, absolutely do not think it’s cute.

5. Drivers who wait until the last-minute to switch into a turn lane. You’ve driven the same route for a year now. You know that the middle lane is not for turning, yet you wait at the red light while all of us lowly, non-Lexus drivers wait in the correct lanes, and then when the light turns green, BOOM! cut us off. Here’s a little clue. Your Lexus is just an overpriced Toyota. Your Infinity is just a high-end Nissan. You are no better than me! Stop cutting me off!!!

Oh my gosh! My lists could go on forever, but I don’t want to bore you to death. Suffice it to say, I am the equivalent of the old man shouting “STAY OFF MY LAWN!!!” at all the elementary kids getting out of school.

Seriously. I’ve done it, already.


Narcissism: Defined


The second prompt for January is 20 facts about me.  This is pretty much up my alley, since I can write about my favorite subject. Me. Of course!

1. I have a male best friend. I know! I know! According to Harry Burns women and men can never be friends, but it’s absolutely possible. Especially when neither of us has the physical attributes the other finds attractive. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy, and he’ll make some girl very happy, but it ain’t me.


2. I have no tact. I try. Really, I do. It’s hard to keep my mouth shut when something annoys, angers, aggravates, or astounds me.

3. I enjoy alliteration.

4. Boom! I also like a well placed onomatopoeia.

5.  I love cooking. Just not when it’s expected of me. I like to experiment with recipes, but my children are too picky, so I can’t.

6. I’m a Sagittarius. Actually, I’m double Sagittarius with Gemini rising. I don’t believe in the horoscope portion of the zodiac, like I don’t read it everyday, but personality-wise, it’s pretty spot on.

7. The oxford comma makes me happy, gleeful, and giddy.

8. I have an unhealthy addiction to social media. I’ve basically quit cold turkey, and it’s killing me slowly. Facebook had all of my “real life” friends, so now I never know what anyone is up to. Instagram fueled the attention whore in me. I was a self-appointed “selfie queen”. Twitter was my cup of tea, because most of my thoughts during the day are 140 characters or less. Unfortunately, I am a huge flirt. I’m also slightly inappropriate, and have boundary issues. This puts a dent in my personal relationships (i.e. my marriage).

9. I have a fairly decent memory. I can remember the most random details. Don’t ask me to repeat your name 5 minutes after I meet you, though.

10. I am in my 3rd cancer free year.


11. I love to read, but I haven’t found anything that has sparked my interest lately, so I return to the classics.

12. I’m not a big drinker. I used to be. Now, when I drink, I usually get sick, or can’t catch a buzz. There is no in between. This makes me sad.

13. I was in drill team in high school. Sometimes I still do 8 counts in my head while listening to music.

Go drill team, go drill team!

14. I love all styles of music. Except rap. Unless it’s old school gangsta rap. I’ll listen to Public Enemy, NWA, and Tupac all day errday.

15. I am a makeup junkie. I live by the rule “They’re not the same, they’re similar”.

16. Feminism confuses me. On one hand, yes, I think women and men should be treated fairly. On the other, we should understand that women and men will never be equal, because we are two very different sexes with different capabilities. The rest is a matter of respect.

17. I haven’t worked full time in 11 years.

18. I love all things 50’s kitsch. Clothing, jewelry, shoes, underpinnings, and furniture.

19. I am sarcastic by nature, and feel my greatest accomplishment in life is passing that on to my children.

20. I’m a klutz. I can trip over my own feet at a complete standstill on a windless day. Mystery bruises are a daily occurrence.

If you have a birthday…..


And no social media, does it really happen?

This is the first birthday since 2008 that I haven’t had some sort of social media, and I gotta say, not having hundreds of strangers wishing me a happy day kinda sucks!

On the other hand, not being on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter means that my actual friends call or text to let me know that they’re thinking of me.

Of course, this also means that I am super aware of how few “real” friends I have. Painful, yet oddly liberating.

What good are birthdays if you can’t ride an emotional roller coaster, right? So here’s to good friends, being a survivor, and another birthday! Here’s to 38, may it feel no worse than 37.wpid-img_20141205_213242.jpg

I hate…


Everyone and everything, equally.  Feminist? Hate that you are so caustic. Misogynist? Hate that you are a douche. English major? Hate that you feel the need to correct grammar/spelling/content. Ignorant? LEARN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOUR AND YOU’RE!!!

Going through my feed lately has been a real downer.  If I’m not cringing at the blatant disregard for the English language, I’m shaking my head at the abuse being slung. So, you don’t think I should dress like a slut for Halloween? Maybe I like dressing like a slut, and Halloween is the only time it won’t embarrass my children. A woman who said she was a feminist hurt your feelings? Fucking grow a pair! Jesus! You would think that you were the one with the bleeding vagina! Sometimes….just sometimes….sex is just sex. Casual or not. Just because you went through something horrible, that’s no reason to malign others who are perfectly capable of separating emotions from a sexual encounter. It can happen. I promise.

The highlight of the weekend had to be this enlightening post by my new favorite blogger Ann St. Vincent….(please don’t click if you are a prude or a curmudgeon).

I get it. We are all entitled to opinions. Hell, that’s what this whole post is. One. Giant. Bummer. Of. An. Opinion. I do have an excuse, of sorts. I’m clinically depressed. I’ve been diagnosed, but refuse medication, because I hate feeling like an uncreative zombie.

This is the main reason I miss social media. I knew my audience, and only followed like minded individuals. Blogging is so much more different. I have no idea how to go about finding the blogs that I would appreciate, because “tagging” is really skewed. I could search humor, but what I find funny is definitely may not be what others find funny. I just want a place I can escape to when my mind is turning dark and dismal. I want to be able to “like” more than just a couple of the posts from the 100+ people whom I am following. I want to be able to read a post, and not have to wonder if I should comment, because it will probably come out full of snark and ridicule due to all of the grammatical errors.

I enjoy interaction. I enjoy a good debate. I love glimpses into other’s lives, because it takes bravery to open yourself up that way to complete strangers. Narcissistic? Of course it is! If you say that you are writing a blog for purely altruistic reasons, I will stalk you, travel to your hometown, and call you a liar to your face! Nobody goes onto a public site, spews word vomit all over the place, and hopes that nobody reads it! We’re all here to be seen, so get off your fucking soapbox, and write something to entertain me 🙂

On that note, I’ll just leave this right here:

My baby


My baby is 12 years old, and I’m always scared that when we are out together people are judging her. She’s not as beautiful as she once was, and quite frankly, I’m scared when we go to her annual appointments, they’ll tell me it’s time to let her go.

She definitely could use a facelift, and some extra makeup wouldn’t hurt, but she’s mine, and I love her. I would trade her in for something small, sleek, and black, but I don’t think I could afford it at the moment.


Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!!


Tomorrow is the first day of school. Tomorrow. Is. The. First. Day. Of. School!!!!!  I just keep saying it over and over in my head. I am so excited! After a summer full of whining, bickering, backbiting, and crying the children will be able to get rid of me….at least for a few hours 😉

Don’t get me wrong, I love my children. They fill my life with joy, and they are my greatest accomplishments. That being said, they can annoy the crap out of me in 5 seconds flat.  The fact that I was an only child (for the most part) only makes their fighting more confusing to me. I just don’t get it. Why are you arguing about who gets to watch which movie at what time?!? Take turns, already!! Geez! Oh, I’m sorry. The prince said something hurtful to you, princess?  Didn’t I JUST hear you tell him that he stinks like poop?  Summer time is a never ending slug fest, interrupted every now and then by a friend wanting the prince to come out and play.  He’s 9, so I have decided to give him a little more freedom, as long as he doesn’t abuse it. I pretty much know the neighborhood, since we’ve lived here for 8 years now, and he only gets to go down two streets so far.  The princess is 6, and she doesn’t get to leave my sight.  Which usually leads to more bickering, but this is a point I won’t budge on.

Last year, I was the room mom for my daughter’s kindergarten class, and I didn’t think I would have the fortitude to do it, again. At open house last week, the sign up sheet was staring at me with great anticipation, so I found myself putting that star by my name.  I am sure that this year won’t be as hectic. I have some experience under my belt, and hopefully know what NOT to do this year. I’ve already printed out my welcome letter with an option to return contact information to me (big problem with communication last year), and hopefully I will get a good response.  The princess found out that two of the girls from her class last year will be in her class this year, so that is a plus, but I think she only likes one of them, so whomp, whomp, whomp.

I won’t sign up to help with the prince’s class, because he is getting to the age where everything I do is embarrassing.  Advantage for me, as I can use this against him in a disciplinary capacity (maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh).  We did find out that he knows his teacher. She is in the classroom right next to his former class. Hopefully, she will be stern and not fall for his big, brown doe eyes. This has been the fate of all of his former teachers, even the male.  On the downside, he only recognizes one student’s name, and he hasn’t been in a classroom with him since kindergarten. Hopefully they get along as well as they did back then, because I thought this boy was a great influence on the prince.

I will miss them dreadfully. They were my running buddies throughout the summer. They went thrifting with me with very little complaint, and we went to the pool quite often. With them at school, I will have no excuses to not workout or clean the house. I will not miss the fighting, but I will definitely miss all of the hilarious things they would say.  The most innocent of comments could be turned into a full blown laugh fest with just their tone of voice or look on their faces.  They are definitely too smart for my own good.  They have my sarcasm and comedic timing and their father’s deadpan delivery of the pottiest of jokes.  I will miss the carefree days of no homework, and no filling out of forms.  The days of dreaded phone calls are nigh upon me. The nurse, the assistant principal, the teacher…they will all know me intimately by the end of the first 3 weeks, I’m sure. Well, the assistant principal already knows me quite well.  My son doesn’t have what they call “da social skills”.  Just kidding, but not really, but sort of.  I’ll save that for another post, I think.

So, onward we go. Through the halls of academia for another year.  We’ll weather the storms like we have in the past. I will probably cry. I may even blubber a little. At the end of the day, I know that my children are in good hands. I will rejoice in the fact that they will grow up to be good little citizens, and I will have a delicious, healthy snack waiting for them when they get home. Or Goldfish. I may have Goldfish waiting for them….