The feelings of intense, selfishness, and a tad bit loony has been my mood for the past year. It’s like a dynamite of fireworks going off inside my body, but mostly inside my brain. There isn’t anything…big or small…that doesn’t seem like a tragic event. Everything in life is overwhelming. I feel like poop that has taken a gigantic poop on top of another gigantic poop. Being that there is so much poop, AKA shit, going on in my life, I firmly decided that my life sucks. It sucks so much monkey balls that I’m starting to believe that because it is so bad… the universe is getting ready to open up some grandiose wonderful things into my life. Because life screwing me so hard in the ass must mean something GREAT is about to come.
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However, despite all that positive speak about my life sucking right now ONLY because something great is about to happen, I can’t help be honest and say that this form of optimism could just be the drugs talking. Because, that’s right, my readers…(all ten of you) I’m on some killer drugs. Killer in the sense that if I don’t take them, chances are pretty good I could die. Maybe not right away…but soon.

Like forty years from now or something.

I went to the doctor last week for hives. FOR HIVES. The doctor takes my blood pressure and is all, “Woman, I don’t know how you are sitting here so calmly, your blood pressure is through the roof. I’m sending you next door to the ER.”

That’s not usually the words you’d like to hear from your doctor when you are only there for HIVES. Yet, there I was with hives and she’s sending me over to the emergency room.

And I’m all, “Of course, I’m going to the ER.”
I’m all about the theatrics, people.

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After an all day visit at the ER which included chest X-rays, tremendous amount of blood being drawn and some male strippers who happened to visit me because I was about to die, of course…I was finally released and told to come back the next day to see my doctor.

I left with absolutely nothing for my hives. Not even Benadryl!

So I did what any mature adult would do, I cried in my car and called The Boyfriend so he could also hear me cry. (Why cry alone when it can be heard by many?)

I finally calmed myself down to drive home and recovered from being a sniveling cry baby to just a whimpering adult whiner.

The next day, the doctor ran more tests and then happily gave me a long list of drugs, one drug in particular has me feeling a little psychedelic with some short term memory loss.

But I’m totally feeling groovy though, man.

I also have had some weird and crazy thoughts, thoughts in which I would like to refer to as “epiphanies”.

 

This morning, on the drive into work, stuck next to The Boyfriend who is absorbed in listening to his book on tape INSTEAD of talking to me, I had a few such epiphanies:

  • The Boyfriend hates me. Secretly, though. Like he’s not going to broadcast it to the world and be all, “I HATE MY GIRLFRIEND!” No, he’s smarter than that. He hates me in secret. I know this because he listens to books on tape on our way to work in the morning, he plays video games and he would rather go out and have a beer with his friend (a friend in which I believe has a huge crush on The Boyfriend. Are they having an affair? This must be figured out immediately.) than hang out with me and discuss the future of our relationship. Do we even have one? We are OLD. Doesn’t he care that we are old? He probably hates me because I’m old.
  • I can’t get a handle on my household chores. There’s just too much stuff. STUFF everywhere. Plus, we have these two HUGE brown couches that take over the entire living room. They belong to The Boyfriend and he will not be reasonable in at least placing one downstairs in the den. NO. I hate the couches and  therefore this is another indication that The Boyfriend hates me.
  • My children also hate me because they’ve decided to become teenagers and it seems they only need to speak to me when it comes to asking for my car and my money.
  • My parents love my sister and brother more than me. It’s probably because The Boyfriend secretly hates me.
  • My hair is ugly and falling out. Probably feels the pain of The Boyfriend hating me secretly.
  • I’m simply overwhelmed with a list of things that are important and are life changing…and not in a positive way. I check one thing off said list, and then four more get added. I know logically I’m loved and cared about, yet, I am struggling with feeling as if I’m dealing with all this shit alone.

 

That’s where I am, dear readers. This is just the stuff I can share publicly.  In my world of loopy (yet groovy) craziness, my waiting on lab and test results, dealing with my heart issues, I’m always on the verge of tears. And yet, this heart thing isn’t scaring me too bad. I’m actually sorta tickled about it because despite all these problems I may be having with my heart, the hard core fact is that I do, in fact, have one.

So take that, Ex-Husband. You said I didn’t even have one.

 

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I just got done filming a commercial/video that will most likely run only in other towns, the tourist channel and in the hotel it was filmed. It wasn’t a paid gig but I got free lunch out of it so HEY, win/win.

Also? There was no audio which made for some fun discussions.

Under the pretense of my checking into the hotel, I was told to ask the standard questions but to be really animated and over the top. It would feel weird, but it would view well on camera. So there I am walking up to the hotel manager to “check in”.

Dialogue went something like this:

“Hi, I’m here to check in.”

“Name?”

“Sansa Stark”

“Ahh. Ms. Stark. So lovely to meet you. Your room is ready. You have a terrific view. Do you have any special requests?”

[Huge smile by me with elaborate hand gestures]

“Yes, I do have some requests. I would like four male strippers, preferably not gay, but one could be gay just for the hell of it, they must be totally buffed and gorgeous, I’d also like them to be a little near sighted because I find I’m much more attractive to those who can’t see very well. Also I’d like some cocaine that I will snort off one…okay…who am I kidding? I’ll snort the cocaine off all four of the male strippers’ bodies. And if it isn’t too much trouble could you bring me up a bottle of your finest tequila?”

Guy is now baffled, trying not to laugh but the director is telling us to keep going that this? THIS IS GREAT! More smiles! Ask more questions! Give her what she wants!

“Okay, Ms. Stark. You got it. Strippers. Cocaine. Tequila. Anything else? We really want our customers happy. ”

“Do you think you could bring me up some chewing gum? Drinking and snorting cocaine really gives me dry mouth.”

We shot other scenes such as a business meeting in which the four of us only talked about Game of Thrones. Then there is the scene in which I’m walking in and out of the building with this man who wanted to keep talking about Game of Thrones. A final scene is me sitting on the couch talking to a woman in which we ELABORATELY discussed with our hands and BIG smiles about how great Game of Thrones would be if more of the actors favored four buffed male strippers who kept their shirts off even with Winter coming.

One of the individuals in the filming crew said I was a surprise. He thought I wasn’t going to have much of a personality, that I looked really shy and reserved. I am pretty reserved, but the last few days have been pretty tough emotionally. Not sure what made me step out of my comfort zone and just laugh and be silly with a bunch of strangers, but it was a wonderful reprieve from life.

And for the first time in a very long time, I felt like me again.

 

 

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Well, I have achieved all the levels of SUCK when it came to blog posting in May and the start of this month. In my defense, (as if you’ve asked) I started a brand new job, scored a couple of new writing projects and I’m constantly dealing with the chaos of a personal life. A personal life in which borders on having similarities to a plot line for a 1990’s movie on Lifetime for Women Channel.

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But I’m back now, baby….

With all that said, I am excited to share that this blog will be featuring a fantastic array of subject material which will include a “What I Wore Wednesday”, (NOT me, mind you, but people that dress way cooler than me and inspire me to actually comb my hair once in a while) “I Tried it so You Don’t Have To” Review segment and a guest post at least once a month. As always, I’ll still continue to write about relationships and my quirky thoughts that I find amusing…even if the only thing I achieve is a master eye roll and a snort from my readers.

I aim low and according to some people in my life, I hit even lower.

 

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But I digress.

 

Life right now is on the upswing. I’m really loving my new job. Timing is everything. There were a couple of months in which I was feeling pretty hopeless. I wondered if I would ever work in my field again…it is no exaggeration that my confidence took a huge punch in the gut. In the last couple of years, I’ve lost a huge part of me. I want to find that fun and optimistic chick and bring her back home. I’ve missed her. 

 

So sit back, relax and get ready. Let’s see how much damage I can do to this here Internet before I’m canceled.

 

elvis

 

 

 

Naked man is taking a shower in bathroom, rear view

When I was a young bride of twenty-two, I jokingly told my then husband I would be more inclined to “go down there” if it wasn’t covered so much in hair.

Boy, did those words ever come back and haunt me for our entire marriage.

I came home one afternoon to find him locked in the bathroom with an odd smell engulfing our small two bedroom apartment.

“Is there something burning?” I yelled.

“Nothing is burning. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I took his word for it and began to do things around the apartment.

And then…he appeared.

Standing there completely naked in our kitchen.

“Notice anything?”

I glanced at him and rolled my eyes. “Besides the fact you’re not wearing any clothes?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

I didn’t notice anything from where I was standing and then…it wasn’t what I saw…it was what I didn’t see. 

And I bursted out laughing.

Not giggling, mind you…like straight up “I’ma gonna break a rib” laughing.

The poor guy had used my Nair. He used my Nair EVERYWHERE.

What used to look like a nicely proportioned set of balls…now resembled raw chicken skin.

And there he was standing in the kitchen thinking he was Don Juan with a ponytail and all I could think was, “Well, I can’t make chicken for dinner now.”

That was back in 1998 and the term ‘manscaping’ wasn’t a thing. In fact, I wasn’t doing much female scaping back then either, besides the basic bikini shave. And here’s the thing…the ex husband wasn’t even hairy down there to begin with. I don’t think he even got hairy until he was about thirty. I had been sarcastically joking to get out of ‘doing it’ and anything and everything that involved ‘doing it.’ (Guess how many times I had to ‘do it’ after that sarcastic joke? A lot. Guilt makes you horny. We ended up conceiving our son. Now there’s a story to go into his baby book:

“Dear Son,

You were conceived because your mother made fun of your dad about having hairy balls. He used Nair all over said balls which caused his balls to look like raw chicken skin. Your mother laughed and made fun of your father which probably hurt his pride and manhood. Therefore, your mother had sex with your father because she has a heart and no one should make fun of anyone EVER. Even if their balls look like raw chicken skin.

You’re Welcome for being born. “

Needless to say, the ex-husband didn’t manscape again (for me anyway) our entire marriage.

Until The Boyfriend, I wasn’t with any one man seriously. There was one guy I pretty much saw on a regular basics for about three years, but we weren’t exclusive. And then I met Charles. “Charlie”

Good ol’ Charlie. He was probably the closest thing I had to a boyfriend for THREE whole months in 2013. He was this young thirty year engineer/musician, but he looked like a cross between a muscular construction worker and an Abercrombie & Fitch model. I mention all that because I’ve dated a lot of good-looking men in my life…but he was one of the few that was actually handsome AND smart. So I’m going to brag about the guy. (Although, for the intent of full disclosure, he was a vegan and did Crossfit. I know this because the entire three months we dated…he would never fail to mention it.)

It was through Charlie that I first heard the term, “Manscaping.” We were at his condo one night and he made some remark about manscaping.

“Manscaping? What are you talking about?”

He gave me this look that many people in my life give me. It’s this puzzled/amused/ ‘she can’t be serious’ look.

You’d be surprised how many times in a week I’m given that look.

“I manscape. You know, clean up the guys a bit, do some lawn work around the party…”

It takes me a few seconds (okay minutes) and then I get it.

“YOU SHAVE?!”

“Well, it doesn’t just look like this naturally.”

So what is manscaping?

man·scap·ing
ˈmanˌskāpiNG/

noun

informal humorous
 the removal or trimming of hair on a man’s body for cosmetic effect.
If you’re one who hasn’t had the experience to venture in the adventures of manscaping, you should develop a strategy beforehand. According to a study in Urology, there’s actual injuries sustained by manscaping. I’m not joking. You can injure yourself, fellas. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. You are, after all, a man and us here ladies…we believe in you. 

 

According to an Indiana University study, fifty percent of women prefer their men to either be completely or partially hair free. I suggest asking your partner their preference. They’re the ones that have to journey down to La La Land. So ask them if they prefer a stroll through the woods with a grassy knoll with sticks that can poke out your eye or if they prefer the feel of a soft pleasant surface to frolic.

I’m all about the manscaping now. I like that area on a man to be a clean surface. I find it insulting when a man has stopped ‘taking care of business’ down there once he lands a partner. That’s bullshit, fellas. You can’t just STOP because you’ve been married ten or whatever many years. You presented her with the feel of a pleasant surface to frolic…YOU SHALL GIVE HER THE FEEL OF A SOFT PLEASANT SURFACE TO FROLIC  FOREVER. 


*Special thanks goes out to Cindy and her co-worker for the idea for this post.
And also to raw chicken skins everywhere.


Suggested Reading:

Woman Anger
 
 
You’ve set out to be all peace and love and some other kind of bullshit you read about. You’re getting up earlier and doing a little yoga to stretch your sore and tense muscles. You have cut out processed foods and junk. You’re mediating and reading a lot about spirituality and metaphysical subjects. You take time to be grateful for what you have and no longer dwell on what you don’t have.
 
You meditate A LOT.
 
You’re getting it. You’re seeing slight changes in your body…not a lot, but enough to keep you motivated. You are digging the energy that you now have. Your new workout routine with a friend and your morning rituals you do alone are giving you something to look forward to that belongs to YOU.
 
You’re transforming!
 
YOU ARE AWESOME.
 
And then there you are…thinking how you’re going to be the best mother ever with all these different thoughts and behaviors. The teenagers will thrive on your ability to be all about peace, love and some other bullshit you read about.
 
You’re the BEST MOTHER EVER.
 
 
 
Until they wake up and piss you off. And then you wonder if you begin drinking alcohol so early in the morning is the key to enlightenment or a sign of alcoholism.
 
Teenagers: Preventing you from being the mother you imagined yourself being since FOREVER.

 

 

A few weeks ago, I was with a good friend who has been married TO THE SAME PERSON for almost thirty years. As jaded and cynical as I am at times, I love hearing  the “How We Met”  stories and seeing how some of their faces still light up when they talk about their first encounter. And if you really want to know how to keep me quiet and listening? Make said couple high school or college sweethearts.

I will absolutely melt into a puddle of hearts and harp emojis.

I asked my friend if she had any relationship advice since out of all my friends, she’s been married the longest. She’s very blunt and aggressive, and I sometimes wonder how her husband deals with her personality which would be best described as a pitbull in heat. (Wearing lipstick, of course.)

“Don’t kill him. That’s always a start for a long relationship.”

Noted.

Great advice.

I write that down: “Don’t Kill The Boyfriend.” 

Then she says something that makes absolute sense…but I have never heard anyone say it. Her advice was this: “Give each other kudos. All the time. Build that fucker up and he should be building your ass up.”

I write this down: “Build that fucker up.”

She explains that couples should never give up an opportunity to tell each other how awesome they are, whether it be in their behavior or in their looks.

“PRAISE the hell out of your man,” she says. “Don’t hold it in. Give that man all the fucking prompts, praise him like you’re a deacon in a Baptist Church on Sunday morning.”

For example, if your husband has taken time out to do something like help friends move, tell him how you appreciate his taking time out of his day to do something for others.

Also,  and this is SO RANDOM,* there was that one time, your boyfriend came home with a snow shovel and  placemats for the arctic entry AND the back door ON HIS OWN without any prompting. And you were so impressed that you really wanted to do some things to him. Good things…although said things may not necessarly be legal in some states…but, er,  nevermind all that.

That shovel and placemats he brought home? Same league as if he would have brought home flowers. Lilacs. And a little gift that you’d pass on to your great-grandchildren because the sentiment was that special

 

But I digress.

Your words, your actions and your attitude are YOURS and no one has any control over it but you. We can’t change anyone, especially our better half, but what we can do is:

Change the narrative of our description of our partners and our relationships. 

Whilst my friend’s colorful verbiage may be a little too much for some, I appreciate her creative expletives when it comes to talking about love and relationships. It’s pretty simple and easy when you think about it: Do you want your partner to know how much you love and respect them? Then knock off the complaints and pointing out all the things they are doing wrong and simply:

“Build that fucker up.” 


*Random in the sense it happened last night. The shovel and the placemats. Not the good things that may or may not be legal in most states…not last night, anyway.

Male and female hands holding paddle sticks with messages

In my teenage and early twenties, I was a very argumentative person. I’m not so much anymore-unless I’m intoxicated and then it’s a totally different story. This southern belle turns into a straight thug in a dress, yo.

That said, I still have moments in which emotion takes over logic. (Probably because of the boobs) I want so badly to have the other person (especially The Boyfriend) to see it from my point of view that listening becomes secondary.

If only he could see it from my point of view…then all would be wonderful.

Like in the movies.

In any relationship, disagreements are normal and if handled correctly are healthy. Still, if you’re going to fight it out with your significant other…here are some basic ground rules. These are rules in which I’ve attained through many bloodbaths and tears– trials and errors.


 

  • It’s Not a Contest:  There isn’t going to be a trophy issued after the fight has ceased and there won’t be a winner to claim the prize. You’re not even gonna get a participation ribbon…so stop treating arguments as if it is a contest. When arguing with your significant other, take winning out of the equation. It isn’t about who is right or wrong…because let’s face it, in most cases each  side will have merit.

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  • This Isn’t Drama Class: The Boyfriend (and my kids)  have accused me of being dramatic in arguments. Whilst this isn’t always the case, I will admit to being a tad bit theatrical to get my point across. The problem with this method is it never ends well. The reason is because all of my emotional energy is being used towards being theatrical, thus I’m failing to listen to the other’s point of view. This ultimately prolongs the issue(s) from being resolved and obviously no one is going to take an overly dramatic person seriously. When keeping things in realistic perspective AKA keeping it real-the argument remains balanced and reasonable.

dramatic

  • Keep the Past Where it Belongs…In the Past: When you run out of ammunition, it is very easy to bring up some wrong your significant other has done in the past. Everyone has been guilty of this- myself included. It’s a great way to deflect when you feel like you’re being backed into a corner. Bringing up the past just leads into another argument and again, the issue(s)  will not be quickly resolved. Most likely, this could escalate matters from a small debate to World War III.

Kenneth-30-Rock-Better-at-Debating

  • Listen: Don’t assume what the problem is….listen to your partner. Don’t discount their feelings and issues because it isn’t a big deal to you or it wouldn’t be something you would be upset over. It bothers/hurts/angers <insert emotion here> to them so instead of brushing them off…LISTEN.  Their feelings are just as valid as yours.

 

Listening-to-Music

 

  • Make Sure What You’re Arguing About Isn’t About Something Else: There was an issue I had with The Boyfriend, but it was a touchy subject and I was reluctant to bring it up. However, as time went on, the more impatient and irritated I became with him because what do you know…my man is not a mind-reader.  Our arguments were silly in nature, but would sometimes get heated…mainly because what I was upset about had little to do with our argument. By the time the issue was brought up it was an all out war. I had allowed more and more time to go by and I had gotten myself into a tizzy of monstrous proportions. Fortunately, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter and I was called out on my shit. We were able to talk about the problem like adults. Had I been upfront about the issue to begin with, we would have saved ourselves from a lot of wasted energy on being angry.

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  • Embrace Your Crazy: You’re both probably crazy in one form or another…and your craziness is most likely vastly different from each other. Don’t conform to their crazy…embrace your own and respect theirs.

 

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I know I left out a lot of common sense rules (IE: No name calling, no hitting, etc) however, I want to hear from you!

What are some of your rules you have when arguing with your significant other?

Sound off in the comments section!