Wednesday, December 31, 2008

And Everything Is Good

I am writing this post from South Eastern Georgia.  Where the weather is NOT below zero with windchill, I CAN sit outside without getting frostbite and I AM able to spend an entire day in my pajamas.  This is what I term a vacation.

I don't need to go on a trip to somewhere exotic or cram a quadrillion activities into a day so that I can see and so everything at once.  I don't have to go out every night to some bar or club that is full of douchebags and douchebaggery.  I don't feel the urge to do ANYTHING.  That to me is a vacation.  

All I have done for the last week or so is chill.  Even though 3/4th of my family is sick with something, it doesn't matter because we are not in the miserable Cleveland weather.  We are in the nirvana of the deep south.  

Life is good.

Real life begins again in T Minus 4 days.  Oh well.  Nothing this good lasts forever.

A safe and happy New Year to everyone.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Life Sucks Assholes

I honestly am super duper sick of life and all the bullshit crap storms she throws at you every time you turn your head.

I pretty much do not like most people right now and want them to stay the fuck out of my way.  I do not want to give to your charity, I do not want to sponsor this or that for you, I do not want to waste anymore time out of my day.  

Speaking of my day, I work all of the time now.  There is no shut off mode for me.  It is high stress all of the time.  No breaks, no understanding, just demands.  And no support.  Not in my professional or my personal life.  At least not where it should be.

Maybe it is the situation I am right now in my personal life, or maybe it is the fact that I had an allergic reaction driving to a meeting yesterday and overdosed on Benedryl, but I have been exceptionally bitchy lately.  And not even in a fun, ADW bitchy way.  More like a mean bitchy way which can be hurtful.

I need to get the fuck out of dodge for a while.  Unfortunately, my next get out of Dodge is scheduled for a week and a half of family time in SouthEastern Georgia over the holidays.  That might make it even worse.

We shall see.

Sip from the bottle
Pass Out

Fuck it.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Over It

I Hate Everyone!!!!!

Over it.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Not Quite a Lady... Bug

I'm still pissed about missing Adam's Halloween Party.  I didn't get to lick his nipples or see Britt sing karaoke again or meet Dave2 or throw up in his bloody pool, or pee in his bushes.


I am a little salty because the reason I didn't get to go were Dog #1 and Dog #2 and some emergency surgeries.  I now know how much love costs. Five Hundred and Eighty Fucking Five dollars.  And Ninety Pissing Six cents.

I did get to go out for halloween though.  I had to dress up before Trick or Treating because I wouldn't have had time otherwise and everyone on my street sat at the top of our cul de sac with a portable fire pit and we all handed out candy in a line.  I had a few Captain and Diets and the extreme pleasure of seeing SuperCunt's eyes bug out of her head when she got a load of my costume.  I haven't gotten all of the pictures yet, but here is one I did manage to get my hands on:

As you can all see, I was a Slutty Bug.  My husband was a hillbilly hunter, but instead of a big buck, he got a big fuck that night, so I think we're all good.

Please note the glazed look in my eyes and my attempt to cover up my ass while half-humping my scruffy half.

Of course he is smiling because I was rubbing my dots all over his banana.

But the best part of my costume was my ruffled underoos.  I totally found an adult version of the little tot drawers with the lacy ruffles on the bottom.  Mine were black with red lace and totally matched my outfit, but the effect was mah-ve-lous.

After we left the party we went to a bar where a bunch of guys my hubs went to high school with were playing and we danced and danced.  There was a four way make out which my friend Cool Girl missed because she disappeared.

At the end of the night (read - when they kicked us out of the bar), we went outside to look for Cool Girl and her car, but it was nowhere in sight.  Not where we parked it.  Fuck.  I thought her husband was going to wig.

Then I saw the car facing the opposite direction from which we parked and my girlfriend in the back seat.  There was an argument ALL weekend about whether or not she moved it.  But the best comment was when she kept saying OVER and OVER all weekend long:

"I can't believe I missed the make out session.  I can't believe it.  Why didn't you guys come get me?"

...Uh because you dis-a-twatting-peared and we couldn't find you.  We probably figured you were on stage hitting the lead singer in the ass with his own tambourine again...

I know you are going to read this fucker!!!

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Gastro Pubs and Blow Jobs Again

I just got home from Chicago.  In and out in two days and I am freaking exhausted.  The trip wasn't a total waste of time because I took a training class that was actually worth something for once.  It was given by actors who help you overcome fears of public speaking and it was both unique and applicable to what I do, so bonus.

My entire group went to dinner last night at a Gastro-Pub.  Blech.  I will eat a lot of different foods, but two thirds of the menu was shellfish and I am allergic.  So I was stuck with a Scotch Egg appetizer - look it up - it's not as bad as it sounds and a salad.  It was the worst salad ever created.  It tasted like dirt and grapes.  The only redeeming thing I had was a very nice variation on a Pinot Noir, so all was not lost.  

On to the Blow Jobs.  I am not anti-BJ.  For me it is kind of like an appetizer though.  I much prefer the main course in every meal and I am a fast eater with a short attention span.  If I am going to take 5 minutes away from my quest to rule the Universe, then I want to get as much done in that amount of time that I can, so foreplay isn't high on my list.  I have shit I need to get done.... 

I admit it.  I am a two pump chump.  Sue me.

Oh and to the fucking asshole sitting next to me while I was waiting on my flight today?  Never fucking fly again.  I was trying to get some work done and she is on her phone the ENTIRE time bitching to whoever was on the other end about everyfuckingthing under the sun.  I hate flying.  I hate this airport.  I am tired.  I can't sleep here because someone will rob me.  I don't even want to go to Colorado.  He is an asshole.  He didn't call me to check on me.  Blah blah fucking blah.  I was ready to reach over and jam her cell phone down her throat so I could have ten minutes of peace and quiet.  I do not want to hear you bitch and moan.  I want you to shut the fuck up or go away and annoy someone else with your blathering.  If you hate to fly, don't do it.  You are an adult.  So either suck it up and shut your fat face or never step foot in an airport again.

On a positive note, I love Midway Airport in Chicago.  It is so much more convenient that O'Shitty.  And if anyone has to go to Chicago, I highly recommend the Conrad Hilton.  I have stayed there twice now and both times were a wonderful experience.  I have been completely spoiled for any other hotels out there.  The service is excellent and the rooms are wonderful.  The last time I was there, they overbooked and bumped me up to a presidential suite.  Now I have travelled quite a bit, but even I was a little in awe of this room which had a balcony the size of my great room overlooking all of downtown Chicago.  This time I had a regular room, but the stay was just as pleasant.  

I still have a bunch of trips planned, but I will be out in California for a week in November.  I do believe I will be chained to a hotel conference room 90% of the time, but I hear they wheel in drinks every once in a while to keep us from rioting.

OK, time for bed.

Good night.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Playing Cards

My life isn't all about being crazy, beating ass and ruling the world.  I also like to hang out with friends and play cards.

So this weekend, some friends were over and we were sitting around my table playing cards.  My one buddy decided that this was the right time to bring up blow jobs.  Or the lack of desire of American women to partake in making beautiful music with the skin flute.

Here is how the conversation went:

Him: "Did you guys know that only 17% of American women say that they enjoy giving blow jobs?" a very puzzled voice.


Me and Girlfriend: "D-U-H"....gagging noises

Him: "But 90% of Austrian women say that they like doing it."  Looks at my husband and smirks.

Me:  "No fucking shit.  Have you seen those bitches that live up in those Alps?  They have to contribute something.  No fucking kidding that they're willing to suck dick.  How else are they supposed to keep the inside of their cheeks warm?"

Now, on to the Costco item of the month.  I don't know if you guys have ever stepped foot in the concrete wonder emporium that is the greatest bulk retailer of the world, but it is an addiction of a level known only to crack addicts and Whitney Houston.  

This weekend I found my new favorite snack item:

Boulder Canyon Natural Foods - Rice and Adzuki Bean Snack Chips - Chipotle Cheese Flavor

Holy mother of Uranus are these things really freaking good and they aren't even made out of fried potatoes.  If you have a chance to try them, do so.  Supposedly they are only available at the Big C, but maybe you can get them online.

One warning - they do tend to make you shit rabbit turds.

Hope everyone had a great weekend.

Friday, October 3, 2008

You Must See This

What is up bitches????

This made me laugh out loud today.  So it gets a thumbs up from me.  The corn on the cob is my favorite.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Hampton Inn Can Suck a D%^$

This is my first vlog.  I have a few caveats before you watch:

1.  It has been a fucking hell of a week.  It's only Wednesday.  And by hell, I mean 7th Circle Level.

2.  No Makeup or Hair people.

3.  I am in a really fucking bad mood

Can you tell?

UPDATE - I couldn't even upload this video last night because the hotel Wireless SUCKS!!

Monday, September 15, 2008

Fuck a Blonde

***Edited to add a Before Picture***



I get bored easily.....

It's a little hard to tell with my hair up, but it is D-A-R-K!!!

Monday, September 1, 2008

A Month and a Half

NOTE - I had this all typed out and almost deleted it.  The reason that I went ahead and posted it was so I had a record that I could look back on to remind myself how much I really want to make this change.  Or as I like to call it "there's no going back now bitch."

I can't believe that I haven't posted for so long.  Holy shitballs!!!  I thought, "hmm, the world can live without me for a week or two."  Yeah, it looks like you guys have been rolling along for much longer than that.

Without a peep?  Fuckers.

So, here is a little synopsis of what went on for half of the summer:

  • Went camping and canoeing down a river
  • Created the phenomenon that is Mohican River Hooch - recipe to follow sometime soon
  • Went camping again
  • Went to Austin, got boatsick
  • Went canoeing again, made a stronger batch of Hooch, took a shit in the woods and covered it up with diaper wipes, fell out of my canoe and slept for 18 hours straight
  • Figured out that hangover recovery is much more difficult in my thirties
  • Came to the conclusion that I need a severe lifestyle change
  • Tried to strengthen my marital relationship - we are making big strides
  • Realized that my husband takes really good care of me when I have a little too much Hooch
  • Took a 3:00 AM trip to WalMart and realized that the freaks really do come out at night
  • Gained about 10 pounds
  • Instituted a self-imposed shopping moratorium which lasted for two months
  • Yes, that means no new shoes either
  • Got the DT's and realized that the first step is admitting that I have a problem
  • I am addicted to shoes
  • Spent time with my kids
  • Had a kick ass Fourth of July Party in June
  • Spent a lot of time outside
  • Did not dance on a bar
  • Not once
  • Realized that if you are unhappy in life, YOU are the only person who can change that
  • With the support of your family of course
  • Started Kickboxing again
  • Threatened to cut off my instructor's balls with an X-acto knife
There is a whole shitload of other stuff that went on, including a lot more travel, but who really cares?

I am honestly tired.  I now understand that what I am tired of is the direction my life is taking and we are working on a plan to change that.  I know that everyone says that you are never too old to make a change, but in doing the math, I have found out that the wheels of change need to be set in motion soon or it really will be too late for me.

However, now that I know that I have my husband's support in this, we are going to start taking those steps.  I have never loved what I do as a profession.  It was something that I sort of fell into and have done very well, but I have no passion for it.  My real passion lies in another direction, but in order for me to move in that direction, I need to have a solid plan in place before I make one single move which is so totally not in my nature.  I am more of a look before you leap kind of person.  I see something I want and I go after it.  But I guess with age comes wisdom or some such horseshit, so we are now taking a step back to see if this change is even feasible at this point in our lives.

I will tell you all that this need has been in me for over a decade.  In fact, were it not for my divorce, I would have already accomplished this goal and I was well on my way over a decade ago.  Since then, I have sucked it up and done what was necessary to support not only myself, but my family.  But that ultimate desire has never wavered.  It has been put on a shelf and I have taken it down at least twice a year and played with it.  But every time I do, I swallow that desire and place it back on the shelf to gather dust for another six months.  Now, I know that when a person has something that they have wanted, no yearned for, for over ten years that you will never be truly happy until you do something about it.

At this point in time, I am not going into specifics because I still don't know if we can make the changes in our lives that it would take to move forward.  And I am really scared about that.  Because I really, really want to make those changes.  It would mean not only completely turning our lives upside down, but it would also be a very long trip.  One that would see my oldest child into high school and my youngest into grade school.  Our whole family would need to make adjustments in order to compensate my goals and it is extremely difficult to ask them to do that.  Of course I could keep putting it off, but it would never happen that way and I am even more afraid that it would then fester inside of me and breed resentment.  As a parent, it is important to always think of your family and what is best for them.

So, I am all tangled up in knots about what to do.  We have discussed these steps before, but this is actually the first time that we have really started creating a plan to take the steps.  And I am so scared that if we go forward and make a misstep that I will ruin lives in the process...

So here I am doing what I do best and rambling on about something that I can't really talk about in direct terms yet.  And while the flow of words helps, it really doesn't allow me to make any concrete conclusions other than the fact that I am really freaking tired and should probably go to bed right now.

Friday, July 11, 2008


..roll down the window! 

That is what my husband screamed at me the other day while driving home from dinner.

Sometimes my farts stink.  What's a girl to do?

It's weird really, my ass talents.  

  • I can clear out an entire room without a sound
  • I know what a dutch oven is and I am not afraid to use it in the bedroom to get my way.  "Honey, let's paint the dining room this weekend.  No?  I bet this will change your mind!"  Pffffttttt!  
  • I used to crop dust exceptionally douchy customers by walking around the bar to ostensibly pick up empties and the like.
  • I have won a farting contest where the other competitor was a large Labrador retriever.
  • I do not need to employ the "mom stare" to keep my kids in line.  I just tell them that my belly hurts and I roll up the windows and set the child lock to "on."
  • I am able to hold in my gas, sometimes for over an hour, until an opportune time presents itself for the use of my noxious fumes.
The power of the stank ass is a verifiable truth.  Just remember that it will sometimes backfire on you.  

Ha, ha.  Backfire.  I didn't do that on purpose, but I had to leave it in.

Those of you out there who are thinking that they can harness their inner stank, please don't.  This isn't something that the untested can use at their whimsy.  You will more than likely end up shitting your pants.  My special skills have been handed down from my father's side of the family for at least two centuries.  I am almost positive that it is from all of the kraut eating, beer swilling Teutons that run rampant through my genetic code.  

BUT, if you feel the urgent need to give your husband a dutch oven one night, make sure that he is asleep first.  

Oh, and make sure that you are a good enough actor that you can pretend that you were sleeping through it as well.

Monday, July 7, 2008

I Taught Her the Nastiness

I think I may have mentioned a few times that I am a soccer mom.  So to take a break from my personal drama, I thought I would post a picture of Spawn #1, AKA SuperDiva.  

SD is not by any means a large girl.  She is 11, but is on the small side.  Not as much in height, but in weight.  The kid lives for soccer and I have spent the last four years (she has been playing for 6) giving up every holiday weekend for soccer tournaments.  You think I'm kidding?  New Year's, Spring Break, Memorial Day, Father's Day, Fourth of July and Labor Day and that is not all of the tournaments.  Nor does that include practices and regular season games of which there are two outdoor and three indoor sessions.  If you are a parent of a soccer player, you will get it.  If you are not, you will likely think we are insane.  You would be correct.

But I don't do this to live some youthful dream out through my child.  I am so not athletic.  I never have been.  We started out in our city's rec league and realized that she was a pretty good player.  She then went on to play not only Travel Soccer, but has been in a Premier League for the last three years.  And for the last three years, she has never wavered in her desire to play for the US Women's Soccer Team.  So I am trying to give her the tools to live that dream.  However, there are things in my house that come before soccer and the most important of those is education.  She pulls down great grades and is in ASP classes, so as long as she remains a SCHOLAR athlete, I will be more than happy to support her.  

Even if that includes spending my entire summer getting weird sunburn tan lines from sitting in the sun all day cheering her on. 

As you can see from the above picture, SD is pretty athletic.  Our team families are very close and we teach our children the value of good sportsmanship.  The only fly in that ointment is that there are other coaches out there who teach their kids ( YES 11 year old children ), dirty little tricks on how to hurt other players.  A lot of the times, SD gets targeted because 1. she is a really good player and 2. she is usually smaller than the other girls on the field.  That is their mistake.  I may not be athletic, but I am tough.  And we only have one rule regarding being physical on the field:

Rule:  Do not start anything.  Period.  BUT, if you are getting abused, you better take care of yourself.

That is about the only rule she listens to these days.

You might think that I am being mean, but that's not the case.  We had a girl get her arm broken on the field a few weeks ago.  Granted, in that case it wasn't from being rough and tumble, or from a bad referee, but we have had other girls get injured from those very things.  Some of these girls know how to trip when the ref's back is turned, or how to get their cleats under their opponents shin guards and I don't want my kid to get hurt.

But at the end of every single game, she shakes the hand of the other team.  Even when they have been mean and nasty.  Even when the other team's coach and/or parents are yelling at the kids or acting like lunatics.  

But she doesn't take any crap from anybody.  Not even kids who are a foot taller and 50 pounds heavier than her and that happens often.

So, here's to you SupreDiva.  I am very, very proud of you.

Congrats on your Trophy win this weekend.  I have a feeling that it's going to be another naked sunburn Monday (-=

(I was just as proud when they lost every game they played their first few seasons!!!)

Friday, July 4, 2008

Where We Get A Fathom Deep

Because honestly? A fathom is about as deep as I let myself get.

I. Am. So. Overthishsit.

And I feel bad about it. I know that there are so many more people out there in the world who are suffering worse than I am. People with cancer and AIDS and MS. Also, people with no humor. But I can't seem to help myself.

So, ahem, the seizure thing? Not going so well for me right now.

It was so great that my dad came up to visit me and help out for a few days. He took me to my neurologist's appointment and comforted me in his way. I also scored some pretty cool tickets for an Arena Football game where my husband almost killed an elderly couple trying to catch a real live football by jumping over top of them. He says that he was trying to "save" the lady from getting the football planted in her face because she wasn't paying attention, but I have a hard time believing that. Then, not 10 minutes later, he almost knocked over a special needs person while flying backwards over the seats in a thwarted attempt to catch a five cent plastic football.

But back to me. So far I have tried Dilantin (in the hospital) and while the one side effect of cussing people out and getting away with it is pretty cool, the severe allergic reaction was not, so let's cross that drug off of the list. Then my Neuro put me on Topamax. Now, let me say that I have an epileptic sister and she has been on Topamax for about seven years with no problems. Me? Not so much.

I started out the first week with a measly little 25 mg dose. During that week I experienced tingling in my hands and feet, SEVERE irritability and a general fuzziness that affected my ability to not only do my job, but to be a functional human being.

And then came the dosage increase to 50 mg. The next day, I had as close to a full blown meltdown as a person can have without being institutionalized. It happened in the middle of Costco (or my personal Disney as I like to call it). I had my son with me when I started feeling really strange. I went to lick my lips and realized that they were going numb and tingling all over. After that, I am not really sure what happened, but I called a friend who came within 15 minutes. I started crying for no reason as I felt like the world was ending. It was honestly one of the scariest things that has happened to me. I thought I was losing my mind. My friend drove my son home while I drove my own car. In that short 15 minute ride, I had the air conditioner on full blast with the windows rolled down. Tears streaming down my face, I could not control my crying. I alternated between tears rolling down my face and full on sobbing. I even entertained the thought of smashing my own head through the windshield.  

Then I called my mom. She told me to call the doctor right away. The office was closed for lunch, so I took a valium and passed out. By the time they called me back, I was so doped up between the Valium and the Topamax, I am not sure what kind of conversation took place. The next night, I didn't take the pills. The night after, I took one. Then the nurse called me to check on me and said that I needed to come into the office.

So today, I went in. I have been off of the Topamax for four days and I am feeling a lot better, but there are some symptoms that are still lingering. Now, the doctor wants me on Lamictal. I asked him if it was possible to try and control these seizures with diet, rest and exercise, but he said that he wouldn't recommend it as it very rarely works for people. Now I have this fucking pill, ANOTHER pill, sitting here staring at me and I don;t know what to do.....

Do I take the pill and go through the round of madness that has been my last two weeks? Do I take it and it is a wonder drug? Do I not take it and wait for the results of the EEG that is scheduled for this coming Tuesday? I don't know and I can't make an intelligent decision about it right now. I am extremely wary of moving forward with another drug when I still haven't rid my body of the effects of the previous drug. And trying three different anticonvulsants in less than three weeks seems like a little much to me.

I am a bit of a wreck right now. The headaches are almost constant these days and I am really dreading the EEG. I have read up on them, so I am informed, but you never know what to expect when you go in for testing like that for the first time. Although I am pretty sure it can't be as bad as my first pelvic exam. I am fearful that by being on medication, I will be unable to do my job, or any other job in my field as I need a clear head and my wits about me to do what I do. What happens if they can't control this and they take my driver's license away? Will we lose our house? How will we live? What will we do? I know I am borrowing trouble, but I can't help but think about the what ifs. It is not in my nature to just sit around and wait for things to happen, I make them happen. But I can't speed up this process. I can't do my own testing and I can't know what concoction of drugs will work for me. 

I HATE TAKING PILLS. Of any kind. I don't even like to take Tylenol. And I honestly have to say that if the last few weeks are any indication of what I will be going through having my seizures controlled through medication, I would rather have the seizures.

Ranting? Table for one.

Fuckshitpiss. I honestly am almost aching for a fight right now. With anyone. Yeah, even a Komodo Dragon. And they eat people. I feel backed into a corner by a fucking disease without any recourse. I can't go up to it and kick it in the crotch. I can't make it cry by being sarcastic and snarky. I can't take out it's legs with a sweeper move and then bash it in the head with a crowbar. Right now, all I can do is lay awake at night and try and calm down enough to fall asleep. But my mind won't stop roaming through the list of things that could go wrong. Not knowing is definitely worse than knowing. Even if it is bad news. My greatest hope is that there are NO abnormalities on my EEG. If there are.... well then we will have to reevaluate our lives.

Also, I am not really that emotionally stable these days. I am not what you would call a "crier." I don't shed tears at the drop of the hat, but last night, I cried myself to sleep. I wake up wondering how the day will go. And I go to sleep scared that something will happen overnight. To most people, these fears would seem unreasonable. Because, of course, people deal with medical issues their entire life. But I am not people. This is happening to me.  

Fuck it. None of this post makes any sense, so I am going to post a picture:

Me and the little one at the Arena game two weeks ago.  He is so freaking cute.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Monday, June 23, 2008

No. Really. I am a Bitch.

I am not, nor will I ever be little Miss Sunshine.  But lately?  There has been a whole lotta mean tossed into the blender of my personality.  And the funny thing is that I am usually an upbeat, irritatingly so, person.  So, is it the stress of all of the shit that has been happening lately?  Is it the new medication?  Is it the fact that I don't know what the fuck is going on with my job since my boss hasn't returned an e-mail or a phone call in like five days?  A combination of everything?


But honestly?  I feel bad for the people around me.  Especially since I recognize the issue and can do nothing about it right now.

Conversation with my day the other morning:

"Blah, blah, blah and a whole lot of bitchery followed by:  'I need a large cup of coffee and an attitude adjustment'".  

He just laughed.  It was true, but funny.

Oh well.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Houston, We Have Diagnosis

I am not crazy.

Well, I am, but not about this seizure shit.

My dad flew in today to go to the neurologist's office with me.  To say I was freaking out would be putting it mildly.  I have managed to more or less ignore this whole seizure situation for the last seven or eight years.  I figured I had it under control.  Until the ER doctor told me that 4-5 seizures a year was NOT controlling the situation.

So, reluctantly, I went off to see the head doctor.  I had these visions of him telling me I was completely nuts to saying that there wasn't a thing wrong with me and that it was all in my head.  (heh heh)  Plus I was a little nervous, because this particular neurologist did not have the best of reputations.

Well let me tell you, I really liked the guy.  He had me when he said "you had CAT scan?  It verified that there was a brain in there?"  Ah, a doctor who gets my sense of humor.

He did a thorough work up and asked me about my seizures.  In the end, he decided that I have Focal seizures.  (or Partial Seizures)  Basically, the seizure affects the right side of my brain, but presents on the left side.  Numbness, tingling, twitches, etc are mostly confined to the left side.  That doesn't mean that I can't or haven't had Full seizures that affect both sides, I have, but that the majority of them happen to zing me on the right.  I guess kind of like a guy's dick.  you know, they usually hang to one side or the other.

So, now I am on medication.  Right now I am taking Topamax.  Eventually I will work up from one to four pills a day.  He also has me taking Valium as needed (it helps with the tingling and such) and he also put me on Maxalt for migraines.  

The thing is, you would think I would feel better about this, but I don't and here are my reasons why:

1.  I FUCKING HATE DRUGS - of any kind

2.  I loath the idea that I need to be dependent on any kind of medication to live a "normal" life.

3.  I really, really don't like it that I will forever have seizure associated with my name.  You know, just in case, I need to tell the people around me for my own protection.  Do not call an ambulance, do not try to hold down my tongue, etc.

4.  I was just anally raped at the drug store.  I have wonderful health insurance, but even so, I just spent over a hundred dollars on close to six hundred dollars worth of medication.  Granted, the Maxalt will last me for like a year, but the Topamax is like a FORFUCKINGEVER kind of thing.  The next time I go into the pharmacy, I am just going to lift up my skirt and grab my ankles.  I'm gonna get fucked one way or another.

5.  I have to have an EEG.  Uh, me and hospitals are not good together.  Me and weird electrodes and gels have an even bigger issue with one another.

6.  I will need to be under medical care for the rest of my life.

7.  A bunch of other shit that I haven't thought of yet.

So here I sit, at midnight, and I still haven't taken that first dose of medicine.  It's like I am admitting that I have failed my own body somehow.  I know I am not making sense, but that's how I feel.

The thing is, I know it could be worse and I keep telling myself that very thing.  But I CANNOT help the way I feel about the situation.  Maybe in time, I will see things differently, but right now I do not.  And I really don't want to hear any platitudes.  I know I sound like a bitch, but I have never argued otherwise.

On a better note, my dad has been wonderful.  He was allowed in the examining room and asked questions that I hadn't thought of.  I have a sister (not blood related) with epilepsy, so my dad knows a lot about the subject and was a big help.  Plus it's nice to just have him here with me.  I said that we don't get to spend much time together, so this is great, no matter the circumstances.

Thank you all for your kind comments on my last post.  Because of my schedule and the way that my brain has been scrambled lately, I haven't been able to respond to any comments, but I really felt your good wishes and prayers coming through today.

All my best,

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Neurologists = My Nightmare

Holy Fucking Shit.

So, to keep you all up to date with what is going on - some people know already.  I had some kind of fucked up seizure late Sunday night and had to be taken to the ER, lights a flashing.  

Side Note to Paramedics - When someone presents with seizure symptoms and their husband tells you this, PLEASE TURN OFF THE FLASHING STROBE LIGHTS ON THE AMBULANCE until you get them inside.

Second Side Note to Paramedics - You guys were great and when I start feeling better, I am sending you a love basket.

Actually, I had two of them at my house and another one in the emergency room.  

Note to SHITTY ASS HOSPITAL where I never want to go again - it would be a good idea if your IV tubing matched that of the ambulance, so you didn't have to rip my arm open trying to change out the tubing.

Here are some neat things about my trip to the hospital:

1.  After having a third seizure while I was there, they put bumper pads up on my bed.  Next stop = fully padded room.
2.  I had an allergic reaction to Dilantin.  Why oh why would the doctor then prescribe it for me?  Fucking idiot.
3.  During allergic reaction, the nurse attempted to control me so she could drug my ass up....
the following occurred:
- I sat straight up in the bed and screamed at her "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ALL ABOUT"
- She then told me that "We don't use that kind of language here"
- I then said "FUCK IT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT"
- I then passed out from all of the drugs
4.  Best part ever - my husband said to me "This is going to make a great story for your blog"

Ha, fucking, ha.  He has come over to the dark side.

So, I have been drugged out of my mind on and off since Monday.  My dad is flying up to Ohio to take me to my neurologist appointment - my doctor does not like this guy, but he was the only one who could see me this week.

I am VERY nervous.  I thought I had this shit under control, but apparently... not so much.

So, I am very behind at work.  I am worried about losing my new job and I don't know what is happening to me.  Scary shit all around.

At least I can keep my sense of humor.  If I can tell a nurse to fuck off, there is hope left yet.

So this afternoon, I go see Dr. Doom and then we will see what happens.  From my GP's perspective, she thinks that they will order and EEG to check my brain.  Like we all don't already know I am fucked up in the head.

Just to show you how messed up I have been, here is the transcript of the texts that I sent to my boss Monday about 4 hours after I got home from the ER:

I was in the er last nigh
Didn't get n
Back top laws

Until late    sorry bout that
I'll be online in avojo

What.  The.  Fuck.

Drugged to the gills.

Anyway, don't tell anyone, but I am a little freaked out.  One, this neurologist does not have the best reputation and two I fucking hate doctors.  The only exception being my family doctor who is the shit.


It could always be worse.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Father's Day Post

Well, I guess the title says it all.  Or not really.

My dad and I have a tentative relationship.  There are no problems between us, I love him and he loves me, but we have definite issues.

My parents divorced when I was very, very small.  I don't know the ins and outs of the whole situation and for EVER while I was growing up, I was poisoned with only the venom that flowed from the egg donor's mouth when my father was brought up.

But somehow, I managed to stay open minded.  I wanted, no desired and dreamed about, a real relationship with my dad.  Instead, I was forced to call a man who did not sire me, nor love me, dad just because I was told to.  I never felt that way though.  I used to dream about living with my dad.  I would forever fantasize about calling him up and begging him to come get me from whatever state I was imprisoned in at the time.  Instead, I had to settle for hearing his voice ONLY when the egg donor wanted extra money for something and forced me to call him collect.  I was never allowed to just call my dad and say hello, I love you, I miss you, nothing.

Every time I even broached the subject of going to visit, I was told that he didn't want me.  I was told that he was too busy with his new family.  And at one very low point in my life, I was tortured with the notion that if I ever moved away, my grandmother would die of a broken heart.  Who fucking says that to a child?

Anyway, I may not have gotten out, but my sister Tree did.  Once I went away to college, she finally broke free of the chains that were binding her to that life.  One day, after a very bad scene (it's not my place to relate the story), she called my dad up and asked him to come get her.  My dad and mom drove from Georgia into a massive snowstorm to pick my sister up.  They weren't even able to get her from where she was living.  Instead, she was dumped off at my stepfather's sister's house in another state and had to be ferried off of a mountain because my dad's car couldn't make it up in the storm.  

I wasn't that lucky.  I still feel like we are strangers in a way because we don't have those ties from a long term relationship.  We don't have any shared memories of a time before I was an adult.  I didn't get the opportunity to get to know my dad until I was old enough to vote.  In fact, I saw my dad for the first time in almost a decade when he came up to Ohio to be at my first wedding.  

So it feels weird.  To love someone so much, but not really know them.  Even now, we live so far apart that we don't see each other that often.  I am in Ohio and he is in Georgia and in a way, that separation is more than geographical.  If we are lucky, we might see each other twice a year.  We have managed to go golfing together and do some things that are meant for just the two of us, but it is still awkward.  For him as well as me, I am sure.

My dad has asked me numerous times if I blame him for the way I grew up.  I don't.  Life is hard and everyone has to do what they can to make it through.  My dad was away for six months out of every year serving our country.  Then he would come back to find out the he had been taken to court by the egg donor for more child support, or this or that.  Back then, there were few rights for military parents and if you were taken to court and you were out in the middle of the Indian Ocean and could not make it back, they didn't postpone it.  These days the laws have changed (although it goes by state, so I don't know about other people), and there is more leniency in scheduling, but not so then.  I can also see things from his side and I hurt for him because I know that this bothers him more than he lets on.

All of that aside, I love my father.  He and I are a lot alike and I get him.  I like to think that I inherited his sense of humor along with his big, giant ogre head.  I also got his ability to release deadly toxins into the atmosphere by way of bunghole, so that is cool.  And I don't ever doubt how much he loves me.  We have talked on numerous occasions about the past and while it will never be fully behind us, we don't allow it to color our present or keep us apart.  He has taught me so much about life and the living of it.  I don't get and will never understand his love of NASCAR and while I golf, I would go comatose watching the whatever Open for four days in a row, but we talk about sports and politics, religion and public issues.  We disagree on a lot of things, but we love each other.

So to my dad:

Happy Father's Day.  You are my inspiration, and the one person that I know I can call no matter what the situation.  I can count on you to call "bullshit" on me while supporting me through my decisions.  I know that I probably don't tell you often enough, but I love you so much and I hope that I can be as good of a mother to my children as you are a father to me and my sisters.  You are totally in my top five favorite people in the world and if I could, I would fly down to see you for a hug when I have a bad day.  You make it all better dad.


Monday, June 9, 2008

What Am I, New?

Holy crap.  I have sunburn.  Can't move, everything hurts, bright red, extremely painful sunburn.

The thing is, I don't usually burn and when I do, it's pretty faint and almost immediately turns to tan.  That is probably not the case this time.

The picture doesn't even come close to showing how bad the burns really are.  In fact, naked, it still looks like I have my swim suit on.  

And yes, I was wearing SPF.  Not a high count, but SPF all the same.  I spent years and years living in the south and I am well aware of the dangers of the sun's rays.  

The funny thing is that my husband has sunburn too.  So here we are, two miserably burnt people laying side by side in bed completely unmoving.  Letting the air from the fan wash over us and give some measure of comfort to our aching bodies.

Now, I am up on a Monday morning, trying to catch up with work and wondering when it will stop hurting so bad and kind of considering implementing a Naked Monday work plan.  My dress is chafing.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Paging Doctor Whackadoo

I have started seeing a therapist.  

I like her.

She is a pretty straightforward person and the only truly irritating thing that she had me do was use an "emotions" chart.  I asked her if they were like emoticons... What?  Oh and there is no computer in her office.  Freaky.  Of course, skipping back to the first sentence, I came up with emotions that weren't on her chart.  Like pissed off and combative and highly illusionary... apparently it needs updated for adults with large vocabularies.

She is not really sure what to do with me.  Most people aren't.  Especially since I jump around from subject to subject.  Although I did spend an entire hour bitching about my in-laws.  To a complete stranger.  Without being drunk.  It felt really fucking good.

And so I was finally asked to narrow my focus on what I wanted to work on the most in my life right now....  I picked my children.  And not my husband.  Sorry, but the kids are only little for so long and my biggest fear in life is that they will end up despising me like I do my Incubator.  I had to create a behavioral chart with rewards and stuff for them.  And you know what?  It's working.  They earn points for good behavior and lose them for bad and they need a certain amount of points to do activities that they like.  My little one is really good with it, the older one will probably need a learning curve.

Next post - attending your daughter's Junior High School Orien-fucking-tation.  While deciding on the easiest way to sneak out of a crowded gymnasium.

Peace out bitches.


Monday, June 2, 2008

The Hardest Day of the Year

I managed to make it through this weekend without turning into a complete sobbing mess.  May 31st is the most difficult day of the year for me to get through.  I posted about it last year, but it seems that I feel a deep need to do it all over again.

What is May 31st?  This year it was my 5th wedding anniversary.  It was also the 2nd anniversary of my grandmother's death.  And you know what?  It was a little easier this year.  That doesn't seem to have come out right...  It's never easy.  The feeling of loss.  It hits you unexpectedly.  It comes out of the blue and bitch slaps you right upside the head.  The fact that I will never be able to forget that day...

I was standing in the checkout line at Costco.  I had stopped in to pick up a new book and I was on my way to our company's golf club to meet my boss and a coworker for lunch.  I was waiting for the cashier to ring me up when my cell phone rang and I saw a Maryland area code, but the number wasn't one that I was familiar with.  When I answered the phone, I heard the voice of the woman who birthed me.  And I knew.  Right away I knew something bad had happened.  My heart started racing and my mouth dried up.  There was a roaring in my ears that didn't completely block out the one-sided conversation.  And there it was.  The news that my grandmother, the woman who raised me, was dead.  Gone from this earth.

I walked away from the register, completely numb.  As I stumbled toward the exit, I had the simultaneous feeling that I was going to both throw up and pass out.  I made it to a concrete ledge to the right of the entrance/exit where I collapsed into a sobbing mess.  I didn't care who walked by me or saw me.  My only thought was that my world had ended.  I couldn't live without her unconditional love and support.  She was the only person in my life who loved me the most.  We would fight like two she-cats on occasion and then make up right away.  Flashes of an unbearable childhood passed through my brain, tempered only by her love.  Memories swirled around in my head of road trips and life lessons.  Praise and punishment.  Laughter, tears and most importantly love.  All the while, tears were pouring down my face, splashing onto the concrete into a little puddle.

When I finally pulled myself together, I ran to my car, ignoring the ringing of my cell phone.  I slid into the seat, numb all over, not knowing where to go or what to do.  I know that I talked to three of my sisters and that there was a conversation with my husband as well.  The next thing I knew, I was in the parking lot of the golf club.  I tried to reach my boss, but his phone went unanswered.  I put on my sunglasses and walked into the restaurant.  Inside, glasses firmly intact, I spotted their table and walked over.  I vaguely remember telling my boss what was going on and heading towards home, more phone conversations allowing me the ability somehow to drive myself home.  

The rest of the day was spent coordinating plans.  Until the time came to tell my daughter that her great-grandmother was gone.  The woman that she worshipped, just as I had, she would never get to hug and kiss again.  The little one had just turned two and didn't really understand what was going on.  My husband was overwhelmed, I think, having just lost his grandmother the month before and he was so very close to my grandmother.

Somehow we made it through.  Clinging to one another until we made the drive, straight through the night, from Ohio to Maryland.  We went directly to the funeral home where I had to deal with not only the most painful thing to happen to me in my entire life, but I had to work with a woman that I despised and keep her from making a mockery of my grandmother's life by shortchanging her in death.  I could go into the countless episodes of insanity that were created by her and her machinations, but I am letting it go.  It won't help me mourn and will only take away from the focus of the topic.

Sisters and brother, aunts and uncles and cousins and friends all rallied around us with their support.  My grandmother's people are mostly country folk who work hard and live their lives through their own set of moral standards.  Good people by anyone's definition, they kissed and hugged and patted myself and my family.  They held the baby and fawned over my daughter.  We told countless stories and celebrated the life of the one person that I consider to be my hero.  We cried and laughed and hugged and kissed all over again.  That is what family is supposed to do.

Last year was hard.  Really, really hard.  This year, was still difficult and the worst part was that I kept those feelings bottled up inside.  I didn't want to talk to the kids about it and bring up their pain, especially my daughter's, so I stayed silent.  Through an anniversary spent around a bonfire with the kids and our friends.  It was mentioned a few times throughout the evening that I was unusually quiet, but I chalked it off to working a lot and being tired.  But today, after coming home this evening, it hit me.  And all I could do was crawl into my bed and shake.  My husband asked me what he did to upset me and I had to restrain myself from taking his head off.  The most upsetting fact is that he either forgot, or he doesn't care.  Either way, I will deal with that later, but for tonight, I just needed to unload.  If I didn't have this blog to write in, I would probably be gullet deep in a bottle of booze right now, so we have one plus to add to this weekend's tally.

So there it is.  I shed some tears today.  I walked around with a lump in my throat the size of a softball, but I made it through without being too nasty to the people around me.  And when the resentment and hurt surfaced, I hid away under the covers.  It may not be the best way to deal with pain, but to each their own.  Now I think it is past time to go to bed.  Sleep may not be forthcoming, but I can at least rest my weary body and close these gritty eyes.

Bye my loves.

Take an extra minute out of your day today to call someone you care about and tell them how much they mean to you.  It can make a difference.  Trust me.


Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Blogging is like Macaroni for the Soul

I honestly couldn't come up with a better title.  

And I like Macaroni.

I could bitch and moan about a lot of things today, but I find it very difficult to work up the energy for even that.  Britt's family is really going through a rough time right now and if there are any readers of mine left, please go leave her a few words of encouragement.  I have met Britt and she is just a good person.  In a crazy, "I will stab you with my fork", karaoke singing way.

And....  I just found out last night that an old customer of mine died over the weekend.  From a motorcycle accident.  He was a really great guy, someone you just click with right away and he had a family that included grandchildren.  

Damn it all to hell.

Guys, I am really hanging on by a thread here.  My iChat status is usually set to "please make the voices in my head stop screaming" and I am working about 70-75 hours every week.  The rest of my life is suffering, but it is one of those catch 22 things.  I get the dream job, but at what cost?

I miss you all.  I really do.  Even my blog buddies that I e-mail every so often don't get e-mails from me.  I haven't talked to my sisters in weeks and I am just now getting over bronchitis.  What free time I do have is spent with the kids...

I think I am going to switch from drinking rum and wine every once in a while to just adding whiskey into my morning coffee.

So I guess I am bitching and moaning.  Fuck it.

And for old times sake, this is how I feel about the person who fucked up my position before me:

Stupid cocksucking, tittytwisting, Milwaukee's Best drinking, beer gut having, shitlicking, shrimping cum stain.  I hope that you are happy.  You have pissed off a really great group of people by being a complete douchebag and they all think you are one of Satan's minions.  While we have never met, the stories are incredulous.  If they are even a fraction true... well, I feel sorry for you.  

But I still want to hockey punch you.



Monday, May 12, 2008

Scary Scary

So I am on a conference call today and my phone starts ringing.  I look and see it is my husband, but I don't answer it because.... well I'm working.  Then another call.  Then, just as I am getting ready to end the call, a text comes through.

When the call is finally closed out, I check my text and I see the following:

"I was in a pretty bad accident.  I'm OK"

Holy Shit!!

It turns out that an elderly gentleman hit a patch of water on a major highway here in Cleveland and hydroplaned out.  He went right and then corrected, where he then flipped around to the left.  Right in front of my husband.  So my husband ends up hitting the passenger side door behind which is sitting a woman of at least 90 years.  After that, the car behind the hubs smashes into him.  They ended up shutting down a portion of the highway.  No one was seriously hurt, and the elderly guy and his mom drove away after being cited for losing control of his car and causing the accident.  

Both my husband's car and the car of the other guy had to be towed away.  I met the hubs at the collision place where I saw the considerable damage done to our car.  Now we have to wait and see if it will be totaled.  Fuck.  The car was almost paid off and we were looking forward to having the extra moolah for another year or so.  

Anyway, having sold P&C (property and casualty) insurance at one point in my life, I am well aware of the importance of getting checked out by a doctor after an accident.  Plus the hubs was a little out of it, so I took him to the ER.  It turns out he has a mild concussion.  Poor guy.

So, there is my eventful fucking Monday.  Arghhh.  

The bright side is that everyone was able to walk away from what could have been a very deadly accident.  I think that my husband's past of racing cars has served him well today since he was able to think quickly and maneuver his car the best he could in the situation he was in.

Thank goodness.


Saturday, May 3, 2008

Chicago Bitches

There have been a few (OK one) complaints that I haven't been posting.  It's not because I am dead, or that I have been absconded away by swarthy bandits only to be sold into the sex slave trade.  I really am busy.  I think I worked like 80 hours this week.  Ugh.  

So, there you have it.  AND I am going to be in Chicago this Monday and Tuesday for work.  So, Monday night only...  ADW in Chicago.  Will the Windy 
City survive my the crazy tornado that is me?  We shall see.

I am bone tired and still blowing bubbles:

Please ignore the zit under the bubble.  I get stress breakouts.

Oh and this is from a while ago, but my girl Mim posted a Q & A that I decided to answer.  I liked my answers so much that I am reposting them here.  But this chica is supersweet and funny and kind and I lurve her!

T or F. Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock b/c they ran out of beer.

F - they landed because there was an outbreak of homosexuality.

T or F. Samuel Adams did not make his own beer.

T - his brother Bryan Adams made the beer. And then went on to a life of singing pantywaist crybaby songs.

Name two early Presidents who brewed their own beer.

John Quincy Adams - he originated the egg in a beer for breakfast drink to prove his virility. too bad he used quail eggs. Dumbass.

Millard Fillmore - With a name like that, you know he was an early kegger.

During the German immigration in the mid 19th century, what type of beer was introduced?

Nuremberg Nazi Lager

During the Civil War a barrel of beer could be produced for $_____ and sold for $_____

Slave Labor and sold for a blow job

Name the 3 beer brands that helped Milwaukee become the beer capitol of the US?

Frozen Tundra North Ale
Who Would Live Here Light

T or F. In order to increase their profits beer manufacturers also owned the saloons they sold their beer to.

F - they only pimped out the hookers who in turn promoted the beer to their customers.

___________ and ____________ helped to revolutionize beer distribution in the early 1870’s.

Ben and Jerry

In 1893 ________ became the first American brewery to produce 1 million barrels of beer a year.

My grandmother’s family

_____________________ was the woman behind the movement towards prohibition using vandalism as her gimmick.

That dirty slut Susan B Anthony

T or F. Before Prohibition, workers would get beer breaks just as we get cigarette breaks today.

T - how else do you think shit got made. Gah!

Which Colorado brewery was the first to feel the pinch of Prohibition?

The one that went out of business first.

What year did Prohibition end?

For my family, Prohibition was just an excuse to hide their stills in more creative locations.

How many years did Prohibition last?


Which beer company was the first to advertise on TV?

Iron City Ale

Which beer company was the first to create a “light” beer?

The one that couldn’t see in the dark.

My favorite beer happens to be from the oldest brewery in the US. What is my favorite beer?

Yeung-Leung Lager

Just as an FYI, Yeung-Leung is really part of my ancestry and it is certainly the oldest brewery located in the U.S.  I told you that my family history includes bootleggers.  So suck it Susan B., you dirty little whore. 

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Off to Texas Y'all

I will be in Austin tomorrow. Yee-haw.

No really. I love the south. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY RELATIVES lives below the Mason-Dixon line. I spent an awful lot of my formative years in states like Louisiana, Tennessee, Florida, North Carolina, Virginia, et cetera.

I also love country music and I have been dancing to it for a very long time. I can two-step and swing dance, cha-cha and chadish and a whole lot more. So I am super excited that my new ISO rep is taking me to some famous country and western place one of the nights I am in Austin. Yay!
Oh and the other things I am excited about:

1. My MacBook Pro
2. My new iPhone
3. I did not pay for 1 or 2
Here is a picture that I took of myself using Photo Booth. Yes fuckers I am a Mac neophyte, but I have to change, so you will in turn be subjected to my projects. Just be happy I didn't make you listen to something from Garage Band. Shudder. I don't have the balls to tackle that program yet.
I am watching you.  Creepy, isn't it?

Miss me bitches.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Where Am I?


I am not sure, but I think I am in a tunnel trying to figure out whether or not I should walk towards or away from the light.

Exhaustion has set in and there is a lot of road to walk before I rest.


In the last few weeks I have been in Georgia, Florida, Columbus and California and with a few days at home, I set off again next week for Austin, Texas.


New job has major potential for rocking the universe and about a million people would kill to work for my new company. But Dayum!

Next month is a Chicago trip and then I am home for a good long while. Thank baby Jesus!!

And here is to the ubercunt flight attendant on Northwest with whom I had the following conversation on my fourth flight in four days:

Me: "Can I please have a lid?" (for my coffee)

Ubercunt: "Whaaaatttttt???"

Me: "Can I please have a lid?"

Ubercunt: "Whaaaatttttt???"

Me: "Can I please have a lid?" a little louder this time

Ubercunt: "This isn't Starbucks!! Hmphhhh."

Listen up you old skanky has been. Just because you can't get laid without a quart of Astroglide does not mean that you have to take it out on me. When someone hands me a filled to the brim, sloshing cup of coffee on an airplane flight that is "just a little turbulence folks", a request to keep said coffee into the cup where it belongs until I have a chance to ingest it is not asking too much. In fact I would say that it would be common fucking courtesy except for the fact that you wouldn't understand what that is if it reared back and tittyslapped you. What I should have done was "accidentally" spilled the dregs of battery acid that you pass off as coffee down the front of your polyester blend navy airwaitress uniform. Maybe it would have thawed out your frozen up cuntsicle.

Hey folks! I just created a new topical cream: IcyTwat

Trademarked for the exclusive use of ADW.

Fuck it.

I am too tired to be funny.

Peace out bitches.

Monday, March 31, 2008

Mea Culpa and Florida Here I Come!!!

First things first. It feels like I have been apologizing a lot lately, but with very good reason. I consider myself a great friend. The one that people call in the middle of the night for a ride when they are too drunk to drive home. The one that knows all of the secrets because I can be trusted to keep my mouth shut when anyone tells me something about their darkness. The one who will drop pretty much anything to rush to your aid when you call, write, e-mail, IM, send a pigeon or a smoke signal saying "help me." And lately, I have not been a good friend to any of you. I show up on your blogs sporadically, if at all. I don't comment. I don't e-mail. Days, no weeks, will go by with neither hide nor hair of me. And for most of you, it's no big deal. But for me it is. For the last year, you have been so supportive of me. You have left comments and sent e-mails. You have thought about me, prayed for me, asked for more inventive cursing lessons. Whatever. And I have neglected you. I am so sorry. I think that part of the blogger code (which has been written about extensively on other sites and needs not be repeated here) is that you comment back. And I have failed at that. I have no excuses, just apologies. And that is not enough, but they are heartfelt and sincere and I hope you can all forgive me.

This blog is not and never was intended to be a popularity contest, or something to use to garner a pantheon of readers. I created it as an outlet for myself. Somewhere that I could vent my frustrations and swear to my little heart's content. But it turned into so much more than that. It opened my eyes to the caring nature of others all over the world. I learned about creativity, compassion, humility, love and so very much more. Blogging has given me more than I could ever give back to the blogging community.

I have "met" so many kind and wonderful people and in less than a week, I will get to meet two of those people in person. Squeeee!!!!!!! I am so excited to say that I will be meeting Adam and Britt next weekend. On Saturday to be precise. I am nervous, but don't tell anyone. I am in awe of their awesomeness and I can only hope that I have more to add to the conversation than "errrr, blah, blah, blah, gaaaaaaddddd, pretty, hairy, love, blah, gurgle, snot, weep, yay!"

More than any of you will ever know, the two of them have helped me through some difficult times over the last few months and I hope that they know how very much their support has meant to me. Adam with his wit and inventive put downs and Britt with her kind heart and open mind; her understanding and her caring soul. They have nurtured me and listened to me rant and rave. They have checked in on me to make sure that I was doing OK when I was down.

And now...... well now, I get to go let loose for a little while. I am flying down to spend some time with MY family (as opposed to my husband's pack of hyenas). I also get to spend time with two of my favorite non-family members. And when I come back, it will be full throttle into a new job. A very exciting, kind fierce, new job. For a VERY large technology manufacturer. It's pretty cool. So, I will be traveling a lot for the next month and I will try to keep posting at least once a week. I will also try to come see all of you in that time. But if I don't, please know that I am thinking of you and I will check in as soon as I can.

Much Love,


Sunday, March 23, 2008

Easter Blah Blah

I am sad. Again. I feel like a broken record. Some days I just feel broken. But it's Easter. And my family IS NOT here. And I miss them. A lot!!

I know that I keep saying this, but I have a shitstorm of stuff in my life right now and there is no end in sight. And it seems like every time I rise professionally (which I have and will tell you about soon!!!!!), my personal life takes another hit. Maybe it's because I am less inclined to put up with bullshit, the busier I get. Maybe it's because I am older. Maybe I am a stone hearted, razor-jawed bitch, but there it is.

So here I can say everything I want to say. And right now, the most important thing for me to say is:

I am unhappy.

Deep down, black hole, no end in sight unhappy. I should be happy. I know I should. But I am contrary that way. I never do as I should. I don't follow the rules. And I am unhappy.

I have made it well known in my life how very unhappy I am. I have asked for things to ease that ache inside and I get nothing. Well, I got to go see Wicked. Woo Hoooooo! That helped ever so much. Sarcasm? Why yes, thank you for asking.

So I am setting out to make myself happy. And if that means some major changes in my life.... well so be it. Because I can't rely on anyone else to love me the most. I am the only one who can do that. It hurts quite a bit to announce that to the world. But it also feels right saying it. I am sick of giving to everyone around me without at least getting any appreciation for the sacrifices that I make. I am tired of being the one who holds it all together because I am the only one who cares. Talk is cheap and actions speak louder than words. Two often used phrases that never lose their meaning for me. I try to let the people in my life know how much they mean to me and I swear to the Almighty that maybe someone could appreciate me for once.

Or take care of ME. That would be great. Someone who actually devoted some time to seeing to my needs without ULTIMATELY trying to ensure that their needs are met at the same time. I am the definition of sacrifice. I have worked so very hard for a very long time now (over half of my life) and I have always done so for the benefit of other people. I know it sounds selfish, but the last time I checked, I was a person too. So what about me?

Oh and to all of those people out there who say that you are no longer a person when you become a mother.... You can go suck a dick! I hope you choke on it. I AM a person with needs and wants and feeling and dreams. Ha! Dreams!! I haven't believed in dreams for longer than I care to admit. Mine died a long time ago along with my childhood.

Fuck! Bitter? Table for One?

Rambling, incoherent thoughts are apparently the M.O. for the day, but I could give a fuck. My blog. My words.

On a lighter note, I am going on a trip where I get to meet some of my favoritests bloggers EVAH!! Care to take a guess?

Fuck you Ohio snow..... it'll be quite sunny very soon. Gotta love Continental direct flights.....

Friday, March 14, 2008

Random Information Day


Mallorca Rocks!

Gay men love me... well so do butch lesbians.

Snow should never be an excuse for not drinking.

I love comfy couches.

Shoes are my passion.

Sports talk radio. Need I say more.

I have a mouth like a trucker.

Truckers get offended at the above line.

When I was seventeen, I was thrown from a real live wild horse. I got back on again. I got thrown again.

I have an odd sense of humor that some people don't get.

I LOVE old people.

I can't stand crappy drivers and sometimes imagine myself running them off of the road.

People who are afraid of the snow should move.

If you don't vote, don't bitch about our government. Yes it sucks and they are all evil demons in league with Satan himself, but it's all we have and it's better than the others.

Freedom of Speech is just that. If you don't like what you are seeing or hearing, then look somewhere else.

I am surprisingly conservative. Really surprisingly so. It's strange to me.

I have had strange ghostly experiences, yet I don't believe in ghosts.

I am damaged.

I told a man to suck my dick long before it was made into a famous phrase by Demi Moore.

I heart cheesy movies.

I can not watch war movies.

I hate chick flicks. Except Steel Magnolias which always makes me cry.

Random Information Day is Now Over.


Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Oh no, not Johnny Castle!

I was distraught to hear today that my beloved Patrick Swayze is suffering from Pancreatic cancer.

While reports say that he is in good health and the cancer is limited, Pancreatic Cancer is almost always a death sentence.

Forever, I will associate the Swayze name with Dirty Dancing, a film that my sister and I played so many times one summer that the tape eventually broke. If I come across the movie playing at any time of the day or night, I will drop everything and watch it. At the time, it was a racy, sexy film that taught us that dirty dancing was oh so good and that nobody puts Baby in a corner. But for me, the best part of the film was the music.

I am, at heart, a great lover of "oldies" music. Boy and Girl groups, rock 'n roll and every genre in between, the number one spot on my car stereo is set to Majic 105.7, a renowned Cleveland oldies station that has been around as long as I can remember. But the movie is what first introduced me to songs like "Big Girls Don't Cry", "Stay", "Be My Baby" and a host of other songs. The undeniably pop sound that originated with much of this music was what has inspired other artists over and over again and what hooked me.

Of course the cheesetastic Roadhouse is also another great. Since I am a gay man trapped in a woman's body, I fucking love watching Roadhouse. The gratuitous naked chest scenes are the best. Coming in a close second is the fact that a real-life trained dancer could ever single-handedly take down a town of bad guys, get the girl and save the bar. But it's the movies and I don't ask for much, so there you are.

Ghost wasn't my favorite since I was creeped out by the Demi Moore kissing her dead lover through Whoopie. Seriously creeped out. And the scene with the clay made my stomach turn as well. I cannot stand the thought of mud drying on my body. I wash my feet after playing sand volleyball for crying out loud. Blech.

Anyway. Hang in there Johnny Castle. I hear that in your next movie, you play a gay cheerleading instructor and I think you will do well in the role. All my best.

Your devoted fan,

Monday, March 3, 2008

I Am Having A Good Crisis

I think.

I am very confused right now and I am not certain what to do about it. There has been an unexpected occurance in my life that could turn out to be a great opportunity for me, but I was unprepared for it to come along, so now I am scrambling to play "catch up."

I still can't give out the deets, but some of you already know anyway. The upside for me is huge, but it would be a big leap for me to take and not one that I would enter into lightly.

So I keep wavering back and forth and trying to figure out what decision I will make. It doesn't help that I would end up letting some people down if I decided to make this change. People that I like and respect quite a bit.

The one thing in my life that I am happy and satisfied with is the one thing that is fucking with my head right now.


I come to you, my friends, to give me some advice. Sure you don't have all of the details, but if you were in my shoes and were presented with a potential life-changing opportunity, what would you do? How would you react? Especially if you were happy with the way things were going.

If you want more information, you can e-mail me.


Being Alone

I had an interesting conversation with someone a while back. We were talking about random things and I brought up the fact that I had never been on my own. Truly. This is the basic gist of my life's living arrangements:

1. Lived with some relative or another until 17
2. Lived in college with a roommate
3. Lived with my ex-husband's Aunt and Uncle so I could stay in Ohio
4. Lived in an apartment with my grandmother
5. Lived with my ex-husband
6. Lived in a house with my grandmother
7. Moved in with my husband

Obviously, there is a little more explanation than that, but for conversational purposes, this is enough information for now.

The customer I was speaking with was a man, and he said (to paraphrase) "You are a beautiful woman, there is no reason for you to be by yourself."


I responded by telling him that I didn't have a problem not being by myself and sometimes I actually craved alone time. I like the peace and quiet. I like not having to answer 350 questions a day. I enjoy curling up with a book and reading it the whole way through or taking a bubble bath and staying in until my skin gets all wrinkly.

Sometimes I feel like I am still trying to figure out what I like/want/need because I never had a chance to spend any amount of extended time with only myself for company. And since I am my favorite person, I find it a damn shame.

Now don't get me wrong... I wasn't offended that he said that. I do not play games with my looks. I know that I am attractive to some people, but I am by far not beautiful. I also don't act coy or embarrassed when someone compliments me on my looks. I honestly grew up an ugly duckling, so there are times that I have to stop myself from protesting when I receive compliments because I don't want to sound insincere. I have actually accepted the fact that there are people who will look at me and see my shell and not the substance inside. Once they speak with me for more than a minute, they see the real me. That is the one that makes me the most proud.

Anyway, back to the story. I wasn't offended with the content of the comment, because I know that there are a lot of people out there, both men and women who hate to be alone. Those people look at someone who (outwardly) seems to have everything that they desire and wonder why they are unhappy. What it did was make me think. And wonder. About what ifs and might have beens. Because I was that person for the longest time. I had to be in a relationship to be happy. I didn't feel complete unless I felt desired. If I was single, it wasn't very long until I jumped headfirst into another relationship.

Now I realize that one of the reasons I was that person was that I didn't want to be alone and be forced to confront the demons and pain that resided inside of me. If I kept going and kept myself and my happiness tied to someone else's needs, then there wasn't enough time in the day to worry about what my needs really were. The funny thing was that all of my friends and family saw how I was and told me about it, but I blew them off. They said that I was a super cool person until I got into a relationship and then I changed. Instead of having fun and being who I really was, I changed and devoted myself to making whoever I was with love me. And that is really the heart of the matter. Love. I had to be loved. It is a deep seated need and one that I fulfilled over and over again. It was easy to get a man to fall in love/lust/whatever with me. They look at me and see my vulnerabilities and want to protect me. I guess I look fragile. I'm not. Once, we were involved and they realized that there was steel inside, then the problems started. Since the men who fell for me often fell for the "princess needing a prince" aura, the relationship would often fall apart when they realized that I didn't really need them. Even if I did not realize it myself.

Thus began my string of romances. It wasn't a long string, but it started with my first boyfriend and has never ended. And hearts were broken on both sides. Mine, when the guy realized that I wasn't the person that he thought I was. His when I realized that I made a mistake and confused real love with my relationshipitis disease.

The crazy thing is that I still have that desire to be protected. But I want to be loved for the person that I am. My wit and intelligence, my vulnerabilities and needs, my strengths and my weaknesses. They all make up the person that I am inside. I think.

After looking back and analyzing MY life, I have some advice to the general population. I still don't know who I am or what I really want, but I am learning and I know more now than I did ten years ago. I think that if I would have had that time to live alone, I could have figured more of it out a lot sooner. I honestly think that if you have the chance, take some time to be by yourself. It will make you think about what makes you world turn more smoothly.

Of course, I could be full of shit and this is just what I think anyway, so take it for what its worth.

What do you think? Did you get time to be alone? Do you think there is a difference? Is there a side to this that I am not seeing?

Let me know.


Thursday, February 28, 2008

Help, Can't Breath

I hate kickboxing. I was going to post about the awesomeness that is "Wicked", but I can't. Why? Because I have a kickboxing instructor who is an undeniable sadist. I feel like my whole body is made out of jelly. He kicked my ass tonight and singled me out for it. He made me a team leader, so he watched me like a hawk to make sure that I didn't slack off.

We did running drills, kicking drills, punching drills and I am pretty sure I got drilled at one point. Right in the pooper. AND THEN!!! After class was over, I was standing by the open door with steam LITERALLY rolling off of my body and he took one look at me, laughed and then told me I would thank him for it later. I responded by telling him that I hate him.

Note to kickboxing instructors - Do not look at a woman that you have abused for an hour and laugh at her while her soggy hair is plastered to her head, her legs are bowed from 192 fucking lunges and her arms are laying limply at her sides because she can't lift them higher than her kneecaps. If you work someone out until they look like a wounded, oozing Ebola Monster and then laugh at them, it won't matter how many degrees you have on your black belt. There will be one bitch out there with just enough adrenaline left in her to kick your ass from here to next week. Please read one bitch as this bitch and know that I tend to get a little emotional when my heart rate goes over 300 beats per minute. There should never be that much adrenaline in a woman unless she has to lift a car off of one of her kids.

One woman told me that I shouldn't stand out in the cold air because I could get pneumonia. After growling and doing my own version of an exhaustoglare at her, I told her that at least it would put me out of my misery. Then I left the dojang wearing nothing but my dance pants and a tank top. In below zero weather. And I drove home like that.

I really had steam coming off of my body. How does that shit happen?

As I lay my head down to sleep tonight, I will say the following prayer and I would appreciate the rest of you saying it with me:

"Heavenly father, please forgive me for all of my sins; many though they are. Please watch over our men and women who are in service to our country both here and abroad. And pretty please, give Master S...... a bad case of the shits. Pretty, pretty please with cherries on top. I know you have way more important things to do, like laugh at a Congress that places more importance on whether baseball players are taking steroids than oh... say everything else in the world. But I would really like one week of working out where I can still walk the following day. Thank you. Amen."

OK, maybe I won't have the energy for the first part, but I am definitely slipping the last little bit in there.

Maybe I will stop shaking by tomorrow morning.

My kneecaps hurt.

So do the tips of my ears.

At one point, my toes went completely numb, but the feeling is back. Also, I can finally hear in my right ear again. I went deaf for a while.

Maybe I shouldn't drink a large coffee right before working out. That can't be good.

I hate working out. It's the worst part of aging.

Good night now.

P.S. Blogger is being an asshole and I can't spellcheck and I am not proofing this. You get it as is and if you don't like it, tough cockhairs.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008


"You're gonna be pop-u-u-u-u-la-a-ar."

I am off to see Wicked tonight. Ha mothafuckers. Ha.

I am so freaking excited. Not as excited as if I were going to go see..... oh, say an NHL game, but pumped nonetheless.

I have heard nothing but good things about this Playsical, from both guys and gals and the traveling cast that will be here in Cleveland has gotten rave reviews.

Oh and as for transportation.... I will see if I can hitch a ride with a snowplow.

I don't know how many of you (especially you Floridian assmunchers) watch the weather channel, but it has been snowing like crazy up here in the Cleveland area. They cancelled school for the second day in a row. People are rioting in the bread aisles. There are clan fights breaking out in the street over car accidents. But it sure looks pretty from the inside of my 73 degree heated house.

So getting from my residence into downtown Cleveland should be fraught with danger and adrenaline highs. I for one am voting for a Zamboni rental, just to say I rode a Zamboni through a snowstorm. Zamboni, Zamboni, Zamboni. It just sounds good as it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it? It sounds like something an Italian DOES with his tongue. Mmmm.....

So if you flip on the news and hear that some crazy chick drove a Zamboni right through the Terminal Tower or the Hard Rock Cafe and you don't hear from me in the next few days.... well, it means that I am in jail.

I'll let you know how the play goes. If I make it.


Thursday, February 21, 2008

Goodbye Ugly Rosebush

When we first moved into our house, there was this rosebush at the start of my sidewalk that leads from our driveway to the front of our house. The previous owners must have bought it at 90% off because it was the fugliest thing I had ever seen. The flowers on it were white with splashes of pink, but they almost looked like a freaky Jackson Pollock painting, however not as interesting. Every time I walked past that bush, my stomach turned. Now I am not much of a flower person, what with my black thumb that destroys most living things, but everyone agreed that it was an out of control eyesore and that I needed to do something about it.

A few months after we got settled in, I decided that I could no longer stand to look at the organic shitstain ruining the aesthetic of my home, so I set about removing it. I took a pair of giant gardening shears and started snipping away. Snip, snip, snip. It took me almost an hour, but I completely decimated the bush. De-fucking-stroyed it people. There was nothing left but a little nub in the ground that I meant to dig up but I never did.

Less than a month later, the bush started sprouting again. Huh? When I say I hacked that fucker to bits, that is exactly what I mean. I am good at destroying plants. I can do it with an ease that if bottled up could be used to destroy small planets and asteroids. Maybe even hemorrhoids. But up it sprang, mocking me with its very existence.

Then it started to get cold out, freezing cold. I figured that there was no way that the plant could survive a frigid Ohio winter since it was only about ten inches tall. I forgot all about the bush.

Until Spring came. And the snow melted. And the bush was there, yet again mocking me with its ugliness. Of course I am very lazy and I quite enjoy a battle of wits with a non-intelligent species (see any reference having to do with men and sex), so I ignored it. See if you win this war you insignificant plant! Hah! Your mockery will not do me in. You will not bend me to your will. I laugh at your petty attempts to incite my temper. (I was also too lazy to lug out the garden shears and hack away again.)

Summer came and went with its two months of warm weather and here I was again faced with the coming Fall. My days often ran into one another until one Saturday night I decided to go out and let loose. So the hubs and I get a sitter and we head out to a place where I used to tend bar. There we met up with a friend of mine who was celebrating his birthday and I helped him and a lot of other people celebrate. Many shots later, I was rip roaring drunk. So was my friend. So the hubs, being the only sane and sober one, drove my friend home. While still in the parking lot, I thanked my husband for allowing me to have such a good time by getting it on with him.... and possible the gear shift, but the memories are hazy at best.

About an hour later, we arrive home. As I am stumbling towards the house, I feel a rumbly in my tumbly. Uh oh. Maybe the 17 shots of Red Headed Slut mixed with a bottle of Grape Goose was not such the grand idea. I made it to the start of the sidewalk and was hideously sick. I remember hearing my husband saying something along the lines of "Oh my God ADW, you are going to hurt yourself and I don't feel like a trip to the hospital tonight." I didn't understand. Yes I was puking, but unless I have massive abs of lead, I am not going to hurt myself by doing so. Anyway, I finished cleaning out the digestive tract and he managed to get me into the house and up to bed.

The next morning I had a hangover from Hell. Little demons were doing an Irish Jig on the inside of my skull while keeping time with the pointy ends of their pitchforks. I took a shower a la the Crying Game (or Ace Ventura) complete with 20 minutes of dry heaving. I did not leave the house for the rest of the weekend.

By Monday, things were looking up and I managed to haul myself into work. Once I got home that evening and started up the walk, I realized what my husband was trying to tell me that night. Apparently, I puked in the rose bush. No, not ON the rose bush, but IN the rose bush. Whole head inserted into thorny branches until all that could be seen of me was my neck. How someone who is the world's biggest klutz managed to not only complete the act without serious damage, but ended up with nary a scratch on her is one of my greatest mysteries. So here I am, staring at this bush that is still covered in the residue of Jagermeister and premium vodka and I just start to laugh. I mean really. Priceless. And just another notch in the ADW stupid actions belt.

Two weeks later the rose bush was dead.

It never grew back.

So, the moral of this story is:

If you ever have a wayward plant that you want to get rid of, don't go buying any of them there fancy chemicals. No siree. Just get a tootful, let it swish around for a few hours and then expel it all over the plant. I have only tried it once, but I imagine that a large man could probably take down a small oak tree with the same process.


Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Holy Shit!!

I have mad crazy news that is both flattering and intimidating. I don't even know what all of this means. I am so confused.

I thought my life was moving in one direction and BAM!, someone throws a wrench into the works. I can't really go into details right now, I don't know when I could, but suffice it to say that this was totally unexpected. If things keep going this way, I just might end up winning the lottery tonight.

Or, this could totally tank and take me down to the bottom of the ocean with it. That is the thing about an extreme high, it always has an equally extreme low on the down side.

I called my mom to talk things over and she was super supportive. No matter what is going on, I can call her and she will give me positive feedback.

Since I can't really tell you guys what is going on, I will leave you with this:

My husband ran my Yorkie over with his car last week. Someone was looking out for her because she didn't get a scratch on her. The car ran right over the top of her. Freaky.