Thursday, November 30, 2017

The Ultimate Fashion Cheat Sheet on the Holidays

*cough *

Man, there is a lot of dust in this place.

Thought I would let the inter-web world know that I am not dead.

I suppose you have all deserted me and really don't give a rat's ass. But, just in case a couple of you stuck around...

Let's liven it up a little bit. The holiday season is upon us and I think many of us are in the melancholy pathway between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Thus, we need to get some pep and cheer in everyone's britches. First, we should drink eggnog to partake in the goodness of the season while decorating our homes. Now, it does not matter how small or largely you decor your residence. Put a frickin' bow on top of the TV or don a Santa hat for all that matters. Showcase in point:

Wow. So many of you are on this naughty list I got from Santa.

How hard was that, you lazy bastards! Get on with it. Come on! Moving right along to Christmas dilemmas, we face fashion issues. Why are we so concerned about what we wear? I have no idea.

It's about baby Jesus, not you. But, here we are looking at vogue. Baby Jesus got a swaddle.

Think about that. And it probably contained manger dust and native sand. Why? Because they traveled and I do not recall anywhere in the story where Jesus got a bath before he was swaddled and put in some straw. Plus was it clean straw? I have no idea. It's a question.

We are so spoiled these days. I bet none of you even thought about it.

Ungrateful wenches! And henchmen! Pshaw.

Ok. So somewhere along the way, clothing became important because none of us swaddle.

Since I am not a fashionista, I had to google the latest trends for this holiday season. Behold! Don't shoot me, I didn't pick these out. Don't be trippin'. Well, you might be trippin' in this:

SERIOUSLy. I need to know which designer thought this was a good idea. I mean, a man had to make them. They can't frickin' measure worth shit.

Additionally, the top is reminisce of that crunchy cellophane wrap which makes this poor woman look like she tucks her boobs in her pants and encourages people to see if she crinkles. Groping is very bad if you haven't been paying attention to the news stories. When was this outfit design a good plan? After 10 martinis?

I like pajamas on Christmas morning. I usually enter from a deep slumber into the living downstairs with a pair of flannels. This looks like holiday mismatch and someone took one thing from the Seran wrap drawer and another from the tallest person in the world's silky pajama collection.

But, if you like it, it is in. Go get it. It is on special for $158 for the ensemble. I could make you this suit for less than $100 plus shipping. Call me. Do you mind if the satin sheets have stains?

IF gold is not your fancy, how about a little Goth and Silver? No? Do you like color?

No one really wants to stand out at the holiday dinner with 40 relatives as the one who went too far with their attire.

Why not try this one where you just put a sheer top over your nightie and piece together the left over wrapping paper? To jazz it up, you can put on some Pilgrim shoes and put a little charcoal on your lips to show your naughty side.

Here we see Cousin Angelique looking a little hellish but with just the right amount of glitz to sparkle like the bottle of champagne that grandma is going to have to drink after Angelique opens up her box of whips and chains. Gift unwrapping commences after the feast and is only started after drinks are poured.

Since naughty runs in the family, we got the exact same gift for Aunt Delilah. Although quite a bit younger, she is our aunt because of how the family tree doesn't fork.

She at least tried to look like a school girl, somewhat. Wait. Did we have school girls that looked like that back in the 70s and 80s? Not sure. I don't think so.

We might have had lace on our Jessica McClintock dresses which were up to our necks and down to our ankles, but that was considered sexy.

Leather? Well, leather skirts did not come back until the late 80s and then we decided those were way too cold to wear in Wyoming with the wind and snow. Unless you were a cow.

But sweet Delilah is a little risque.  She is coming to dinner like this with her cute little calf socks to show Aunt Doris her innocent deceptions.

Still not seeing what is just right for you? Well, there are so many more to choose from. No worries.  I have more.

Here I am sporting a cute frock just frolicking in front of Mr. Bobo's mansion before I run over to the hedge to retrieve my coat and flapper hat.

It's a little nipply outside even though it looks delightful. I picked the perfect shoes although by the end of the night they killed my feet and it took several weeks to get my toes to relax out like normal.

I ran around for days looking like an elf because they were all sandwiched in that small pointy space.

Because I suck at wrapping presents, my mother carefully tied that bow and luckily I did not spill a drop of turkey gravy on it nor the white top.

To match my perfect skirt bow, I poofed my hair up like that. My nasty Uncle Harry said it looked like I had a ball sack relaxed on top of my head. The nerve.

Men have no idea about fashion. They just show up in trousers and a t-shirt or some cruddy pants.
Let me show you how I am going to rock it out this year. 
Bam! Nailed it!

I think Casual G is my style.

Or Christmas G.

That's G for gangsta. Or Green. Why? Because it is all about eco-friendly and the environment this year.

I really am a 3/4 environmentalist disguised as a middle of the road conservative. True story.

Ugly sweaters is where it is at. I think they are cute. Go find the best one you can muster. JCPenny's had some great ones. Bug saw a tandem sweater. That's right. Two of you connected in one outfit. Super cheap. Saves a lot of dollars. One of you can look away during bathroom breaks.

Yep. I have a hole in my pants to represent assholes. Plus it is the new style. To complete my outfit, I had my bestie knit my hat from road kill sheep out on Highway 26.

They suffered a tragic and bloody death when the wool truck tipped over. It was a really baaaaaad accident. The sheriff was blessed that the witnesses were sheepish, but stuck around to tell what happened. Luckily we could save parts of them and to commemorate this tragedy, we were able to come up with this darned hat. Puns intended.

If you have not already discovered, these people have no relation to me and the only truth of the matter is I am going to be casual with an ugly sweater. Maybe a hat. But not a road kill hat. Oh and pants. I will wear some pants.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Moose Be Halloween Because All The Sluts Come Out

It's Halloween. Ever notice all the sluts come out? And some of them are your friends?

Not only that, they don't like being called out. And if you aren't cute and slutty, they thumb their nose at you. I like to be original.

I'm not going as myself this year. I will be greeting Trick or Treaters as a moose that ran through a campsite, sporting some pots and pans hanging off my paddles and some sticks and such. I have a Bullwinkle moose head from costumes going way back. I have to use what is around the house. My mother taught me well.

This only bigger and not so cute.
I'll also try not to give out sugar and ketchup packets this year. I actually could afford a bag of candy.

Back to the costume thingy. One year I was a zombie or a homeless person depending upon your perception:
Yup. That's me

I will also have to say I am not one of those who dresses like a harlot on Halloween. I see all these posts where my friends and associates and even strangers try to find the sexiest and skimpiest costume in all The Land.

Why don't you just put up a sign that says:"Look I'm Almost Naked. I Am An Attention Seeker. Aren't I Pretty?Wanna Get Laid?"

Wait. Did I just walk into that rape culture of don't blame what she wears? Look, I'm not talking about rape. I'm talking about going to a party and showing off your parts because you want the attention or you want to end up with someone you have had your eye on and  you go through with it willingly. Not rape.


Even when I was a size 2-4 I didn't dress like that at Halloween or any time of the year. You can wear that to the beach, to your bed, or at a swinger's bar. It just is a little obviously slutty when you use these events to push the girls out of the box and let the booty bumper show.

One time I dressed like a Viking and the women at work thought I was ridiculous and turned their nose up at me. They said girls should have girl costumes. I was like...are we on the dark side of the moon? What is wrong with you people?

Maybe I went a little too far

Is it just me? Or is it just me?
Not a sexy moose

There are those at my work who think girls should only wear girl costumes and should go around work and after work looking like a whore because it is acceptable on Halloween to do so.

Well, I'm sorry, but not OK at work.

Not really a good idea to lose your class for one day because there is a dress up holiday.

Not unless you want to advertise your services to get laid by strangers.

I don't have a problem with it because I see what it is. But don't look down at me because I'm a moose. I'll clobber your cute little makeup job with one stomp.

I'm a cute moose.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

My Daughter is a Cat Burglar Conclusion

So the results of the investigation showed the crime was unfounded.

My Bug is really not of the criminal mindset. She drove the back way to school which is roughly the same mileage as going on the highway. She said it was faster, although she crosses TWO train tracks which scares me to death.
And she pulled over near a house to send a message because she is not to text and drive. No passengers. Dropping off homework group project and no pickups.

Although, it did cross her mind to ask about a rider and I said "NO WAY, JOSE." Kaput. End of story.

I'm relieved and also sad that she was guilty until proven innocent. However, it will always be that way. I'm backwards like that with my child.

Funny how she was not surprised she was followed. I think my skills are slipping as are my neighborhood watchdogs. Maybe I need to find young ones to spy instead of the old timers.

It must be pure hell to have me as a mother.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

My daughter is a cat burglar

So what have we here?

Now we wear the cop mom hat.

Apparently, in the early morning hours, Bug rolled out in the hoopty for school. Unsuspecting of parent awakeness and observation skills, she maneuvered the vehicle left down a street away from the main drag. There is one route directly and without stopping at Go which takes her to the school direction way. Said motor vehicle operator is banned from taking passengers or any associates in her car as per Indiana law. Until such probation time has expired and parents give permission, this behavior is a no-no and in direct violation of regulations.

Yes, we must deal with that tonight. It should be interesting. 

It's a good thing I have a few hours to decompress my madness and disappointment at her sneaky cat burglar ways. We wouldn't want to unleash the wrath of Fargo without proper gathering of the wits. It would be an ugly show. 

Violators. Everywhere. My job never stops. Gah.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

The Dildo Diaries #2348

This weekend proved interesting as the child embarked upon a hiking trip. I thought everyone should get out of the house. Little did I know, it killed everyone at the end of the day. 👀😂😎 The hills kicked our butts. It really is the shits living at sea level or below.
This me before hiking. 

Anyhoozle, it was fun. The kiddo's entitlement bullshit is really causing me to do virtual smackdowns and I hope I don't act those out. Really annoying. How do you get a teenager to stop backtalking, interjecting, and being a know it all? I need a manual. Stat.

It really is getting old with the "I want this" and "I want that". She informed me that I should pick from her abundant list so she doesn't get something she doesn't want or need.

Guess what? That's the new verbage from these teens. I was like, "I didn't ask for anything and was grateful for everything."

She informed me again, that is not how it is now. I replied, "The hell it's not.

This is a time where you might not get anything." She came up with the magic response in her eyes, "Well, that's how it works with dad and he likes it."

I told her we only gave lists for Santa and sometimes our parents inquired about our dream list, but we would never have demanded anything came from it.

In the car ride, she had to proceed with giving me updates on her birthday list which included this:
Behold! The pink riding dildo: aka a long board
I glanced at it and screeched: "What? Why would you want a dildo for your birthday!!!???"

"Mom, it's not a dildo!!! I can't believe you said that. It's a long board."

"Ask Chad." He came back to the car after buying some fuel.

"Chad, this is what I want for my birthday. What do you think? It's cool, right?"

He gave me a funny look of concern.

"Well, frankly, it looks like a dildo but I think it is supposed to be a long board?"

"See, Mom. He knew it was a long board."

"He said it looked like a dildo. You will be riding a dildo."

"Mom! Not everything is a dildo."

"You are right. Not everything is a dildo, but everything is penis related."

"No it's not."
This one even moves when operated or "stroked"

"Yes, it is. Try me."

"A camera."

"Nope. Ball sack. Penis. Erected even."

"Mom. That is terrible."

"It's true."

" A truck is not."

"Yep. It is. I can show you in pictures.  Everything is phallic. "
They come in all colors!

"Mom, you are being ridiculous."

"Nope. Think about it. Really hard. It's all a man's world and we live in a bag of dicks."

"How did I get you as my mother? You are so warped!"

"You were lucky. I'm a realist. You could have gotten one of those fantasy mothers who dresses you in princess dresses and tells you to wait for Prince Charming. He is also a dick. "



"Mom, you're just kidding, right?"

"About which part? Everything looks phallic to me. Skyscrapers, guns, knives, tampons, etc."

"No. The part about living in a bag of dicks."

"Oh, no that part was real. I'm joking about Prince Charming. You will find a good one."

"I hope so."

"So what are you going to do with your riding dildo? It will probably last a week. Then you will move on to something new."


"Well, it's true. That's why I have several."

"Long boards?"

"No. Dildos."

"Mom!!! I did not need to know this. There are just some things that you don't talk about with your kids. This is one of them. "

"Well, you are probably right. Good thing we don't tell the world."

I think I got side tracked. Those damn penises.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

The Vagina Diaries #190092987 Tampon Days

Women are neurotic beings.


I'll just throw that out there.

My mind plays tricks on me.

Please forgive me, God, for I am about to sin. A lot. All in one post.

Have you ever had a meltdown and didn't know why?

Were you ever sad but never had good reasons?

Well, I had anxiety when I looked at my syllabus for a summer school course for grad school in Financial Management. The tasks kept beeping notifications into my phone.

Bing. Bing. Bing.

It was my professor posting each new assignment due Sunday. I seized up. I didn't want to do it. I didn't know where to start. My textbook hasn't arrived yet, so I just googled the chapter online hoping to find it. I did. But that didn't help my neurosis. The writing assignments were OK, but so boring.

Then there were math probems and I didn't really care about regression analysis or inflation problems. There was also a timed quiz in which required one word answers and exact matches. I flunked. Not just barely. But 6 out of 20. Bammo.

I seized up again when that automatic grader binged that on my phone. FFFFFFFF I hate the fucking number 6 right now. Especially out of 20. Did I even show up for that test? I think I might as well have partied right through it. Right now I have a 4.0 gpa and was just given an award as Outstanding Grad Student of 2016-17 for Criminal Justice/Criminology Department. Fuck me in the ass. Right there. I did it.

Sure, I can raise my grade, but who wants to throw away the rest of the maybes on the first week? Great timing. Now I have no room to budge. I have to get A's on everything else.

Did you ever date someone for a year and a half and then find out the whole time that you couldn't do anything right? They nit picked you, which dug deep, but you blew it off? Of course it ended by my choice because it was killing my heart to live like that but it took 18 months to figure it out. Plus women mourn the death of the relationship long before they leave. BTW, men, when they tell you they are's too late. They are over it and you still continue to do destructive things. Or that they brag about their new girlfriend, show her off to his friends, and say nice things and take her nice places out of state, but never did that with you? I think its even shittier (that is a word) that he asked my daughter to dog sit for him while he took his girlfiend on a long vacation.


The nerve.

It didn't happen because before I could say no, he must have gotten smart and found another avenue. The dog is sweet, but I'm not doing him any favors. My daughter raged at me when I told her in the future that would be a no way. She felt since he was going to pay her it was good for her. I know she will never understand the complexity of that situation, so I let her be mad at me. I feel he wanted to rub my nose in it and make me jealous. My daughter thinks its about me punishing him by saying no. I don't know.

To reflect back, I think I was dating two different people. (Not two people, but he was two different people-one good and one not so) One time he even told me I was right about things when I was unhappy. The first 6 months of your relationship with him were great and the rest was total shit except for some fun moments with his family and kids. Really. I am not being mean, I am being a realist. I gave every piece of me to make that relationship work because I felt I didn't do that in my marriages. I look back and he really cut me down a lot and made me feel inferior, dumb, ugly, and not good enough in everything I did, what I wore, what I said, my goals, life. It was really that bad. "Oh sorry, I can't hear you over the voices in my head screaming at me that he is so full of shit to punch him in the dick."

And yet I feel slighted now with the way he treats the new girl. Except I don't miss him. That is over and was long ago before I started dating again.  But I am mad and want to know why I wasn't good enough for those good things. Instead I should be relieved. I don't ever want to go back to that, but I reflect on what was is that I did wrong. Oh, and get tired of everyone saying it was him not you. But you miss his family and his kids.  Maybe I haven't processed it. Probably my self-esteem is so low that it makes it hard for me to even be loveable. I don't know if I am even any fun.
Yeah. You are fucking losing it. 

I didn't think I would date again and I have no idea what pushed me to do so. Maybe it was God sticking a foot in my ass after I had had enough fucked up relationships. Or lessons. That's what I call them.

Now I have a perfect boyfriend. I mean he is perfect for me and perfect to me. Every day he is more so wonderful than the last. One whom I can't imagine living without.

It really feels like that without trying to sound corny.

I don't know if he will continue to like my very flawed and fucked up self. I need to go find my true self and bring her back before he notices the switcheroo.

I am sure it is a blessing from God and I don't want to mess it up. I mess most of those blessings up.

My brother gives me 6 months to fuck this one up.

My neurosis really gets the best of me. My friend told me to fix a drink and stop thinking about all this nonsense. She told me test is over and done. Move on. She really didn't like the other guy and loves the new guy.

She's right.

I'll have a pint and say, "good riddance," and perhaps a little, "Thank you, God, for all those lessons."

I can't tell you how amazing he is (my boyfriend and you, too, God, but not my brother-well he is good too) and I feel I am not good enough. He makes me want to be a better person. Does this sound like a fucking Jesus song? I don't mean that disrespectful. I mean I sound like I am writing lyrics for church. Gah.

I love you, God.

My boyfriend does so much for me and my daughter. He works hard. He isn't negative. The relationship is so awesome that I have gained about 20 pounds and he still loves me. And I question why he would love me when I have a barnyard house, projects up the butt, crazy schedule, and a daughter with teenage problems. I can't see my own value right now-just today-and I know I should not focus on these voices in my head from my past relationships who were toxic. I do value who I am and the wonderful kid I have, but I don't feel it. This is temporary. It's one of those days when life hits you with a big fucking red brick.

I'm sure this is because I just got an F. F is for fuck.

I had to take an intermission from this post and tend to the fire. For real. While I was writing this post, I happened to burn our dinner which was a bang up dish of Hamburger Helper which I have not cooked in 20 years. He wanted it. It's toast. I mean, I tried it because it looked alright on the top. But it tastes like a monkey's ass. On fire.

"How can anyone mess up Hamburger Helper?" He asked.

Even the dog is like, "What the fuck is that?"
Smells like ass.

Because I was writing about you and my inadequacies.

I said it with my look and shrug. I didn't tell him that out loud.


Thank you for the trophy!

Who can mess up Hamburger Helper. Me. That's who.

Oh. And Auntie Flow came today. She is such a bitch.

Yeah. I'm the one who looks both ways to cross the street and gets hit by a fucking plane.

Now I'm moving on to making spaghetti except I just slung the entire box of noodles past the cook bucket. Fuck me in the ass.

And after all this, he still kissed me before going to pick my daughter up from track. I do love him so.

In case you were wondering, this is just a post of a typical day in my life. I know what I should know and think and not believe. I know I should love myself and I do. I know I have to be fun for someone to see I'm fun. I know I am special and someone wants me.

I just need the note on my forehead to remind me sometimes. And to write down all the neurosis so it goes away.

Expel the noise! Repell the voices! Gone with you!

Thank you, internet exorcism.

I am fine. Really. My va-jay-jay has a tampon shoved up in it. Who wouldn't be fine by that?

And you know what a fucking tampon is? A cotton dick. No. Not that exactly. You know what I'm trying to say. Fuck me in the ass. No. Not that either.

I will go now.

Monday, April 3, 2017

The Vagina Diaries #99977768

Someone in our local educational system thought up of a brilliant way to educate teenagers in health class by means of having a baby placed in our home. It came to us Friday night unexpectedly. Originally, it was scheduled to arrive on Easter weekend and I said, NO WAY. I didn't want my Bug to skip Easter because I knew she would be a freak about this thing.

She told me in very detailed verbage explosion with a motherly attitude that she was not to be bothered because she was taking care of this baby and did not want to fail class. She asked if "grandma" would be willing to babysit over the weekend. This "grandma" was conveniently inconvenient and cancelled all grandmother appearances much to Bug's surprise. She could not possibly imagine that I was not a willing participant. I told her she should have to suffer as a single mother just as I had and to suck it up. Yes, it is true. I have no sympathy. So begins the lesson. Or so I thought.

The first night was hell as she did not receive much sleep with the baby waking up every 30 minutes. Thank you, teacher! This was good. I didn't hear a thing and slept like a baby in my room. The next day I departed. I left for an overnight trip in late afternoon on Saturday to return on Sunday. I figured that way there would be no temptation or begging of grandmotherly duties.

I did check in via Facetime. She was very tired and had failed in most house duties, while shutting herself in her room to care for her near-real infant. Apparently, she was very proud of her bags under her eyes. As you can see from our Facetime chat, I had so much sympathy and nearly cried over the loss of sleep.

Dear Sleep, 
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art NOT with me;

I figured all this was real life problems. No sense sugar coating it.

I know. I won't be getting any Mother of the Year awards. It's OK. I hope I have created a good kid as a result of my unorthodox motherhood ways.

I expect some day paybacks will be hell with a real live grandkid, but I hope that is many years from now. In the meantime, torture is in play and seemed to result in some oopsies around the house.

For instance, I came home to a pile of dishes and a burnt pan. The dog got locked in the laundry room and ate the door. Muddy paw prints were tracked all over the house and on the furniture. It was a disaster. What happened? Grr. I got mad but I moved on because she was asleep and I could not address it just then. That was in her favor.

A load of laundry was left in the washer to gather mold or dust. I'm not sure which because it was never turned on. Oh, that's right. We hid all the detergent because she has a tendency to wash two shirts in a load which is wasteful.

She also takes 45 minute showers. We turned the hot water off when she was in the shower in the process. My water bill last month was $124.00. Me thinks she doesn't get it. So I had to fight hot water with cold.

But my plans may have backfired as I now have to do the dishes and laundry myself because I can't stand it. Wait. I shall tell the new fake mother that the chores are ready for her at home and she can do them first thing when she gets out of track practice.

Tonight I will be sanding the door down in an effort to save it rather than by a new one.

Was I mad?

Oh yeah. I was mad as hell.

But instead of coming publicly unglued, I retreated to the barn and my bedroom so I would not make an ass of myself as a mother in a rage of anger.

Today, I have deflated my initial reaction to a lesson learned to myself.

Will I do this all over again? You betcha.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Vagina Diaries #857475: Boob Lube

Some things in life are free.

Many things are not.

Sometimes you pay a hefty price.

For stupidity.

And other things.

Right now, I am obsessed with the show Vikings. I am striving to be Lagertha. She is so cool, even peasants want to be her. I think she was much more wise than me. But she does have trouble picking good men in her life. That part was like me. I've finally gotten wise. The other stuff...I can be a warrior or a legend in my own mind. I can dress like her. But...I'm sure she would not have gone through life making the mistakes I have.

Why not? Aspire to be Lagertha. Arr. SKOL!

Yesterday started out with a bang and ended with a kaboom.

I was reconciling my checking account when I found a huge ACH withdrawal that I did not authorize.

I called the number up and spoke to a very nice customer service representative who spoke perfect English. I was really impressed. We could communicate and she could understand my problems.

To preface, I had ordered some facial products for my daughter because of her acne, so they delivered.

So, I did recognize the company's name on my online statement, but did not authorize a new charge.
Yes, I think I will. Thank you!

The lady listened to my concern and asked, "Ma'am, this is the first charge of two because you checked the box to try a 30 day money back guarantee of our uplift cream. Did you not like the products?"

"I'm not saying I didn't like your products. I did not authorize a charge."

"Uh. Huh. Ma'am, did you return the cream back to us within 30 days so you would not be charged full price?"

"Uh. I didn't know I had to. I thought it was a free sample for the shipping cost only."

"I'm sorry. No, ma'am. You were given the product for 30 days free. If we didn't hear from you and receive the product back, we charge you two payments. This is the first payment."

"Holy balls. $140?"

"Yes. Ma'am. That is what the product retails for and you were given instructions in the box."

"Wow. Well, I can't afford that. And I don't want any more charges. Can I get my money back? I have to feed three small children and we have no groceries."

"Ok. We can see what we can do for you. Did the products work? I understand you must be having some trouble with lift in your breast area?"

Ok. Hold the horses. This lady was getting personal and inappropriate. WTF?


"Oh. Well, I guess I misunderstood. It shows here you ordered the Uplift Cream. It is for increasing lift in your breast area."

Holy. Fucking. Balls.

What. The Fuck. Have. I. Done.

I was feeling flushed and stupid.

"Uh. Hmm. Ok. Well, how do I stop these charges. Do you need the product back?"

"No. It is too late for the return, but I can stop the second payment and write customer dissatisfaction on here and we will not charge you for the second payment. You will receive your seasonal facial care shipment in April."

"Whoa. I don't want any more shipments to come automatically. I only ordered my daughter a facial kit and she doesn't need any more right now."

"Ok. I will stop all shipments. You should be taken care of. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well. Could the Uplift Cream be used on any other areas other than the breasts?"
boob lube

"Well, ma'am. I am not recommending it for anything else except what it was formulated to do and sell as. As instructed, it is designed for the breast area. It is formulated to lift, tighten, and plump. "
If I pull my face back, can you tell I have boob lube on my neck?

"Ok. Thank you. I think I am OK. Have a nice day."

Fuck. Me. In. The. Ass.

Does this cream make my face look big?

So when this extra cream stuff came in the mail and when I read about it online, I understood it was special cream for my  neck. I have been putting the fucking cream on my neck for a month. A whole month!

No wonder I have jowls.

Here I thought I was getting fatter and fatter. It is actually the cream. This cream really just lifted my neck skin up to my face according to my theory. I can't believe I am such an idiot. How did I get confused? Am I losing it? Wait. Don't answer that question.

What will I look like in 60 days?

Will I have two perky boobs on my face?

Right now I am fighting bad skin and wrinkles.

They are winning.

It doesn't help that I just gave myself a new set of boobs...on my face.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

5 Things That Pissed Me Off Yesterday

Look... the color is drained out of my face.
In review, I have started each post with the same static theme, so I am going to continue that way. Why change? Who needs variation? We all like routine and scoff at progress, right?

Today starts with a pit of pissy and a lot of snark. I'm not angry...just passionate. I really exaggerate sometimes at my level of pissed off-ness.

So you thought I was dead? I might be because I am really exhausted and am just working out of a shell. There is no substance or internal pizzazz. 

Let me sum up my fears of existence:

A. I think I just exist, not live, on a plane or two. (not airplane-the other mathematical kind) Hey, I'm down here! Am I living? Not right now. I am existing. Sometimes I float between the two. Grad school. That's all I have to say about that. 

B. No sleep. Lack of sleep messes with a person's mind channeling. Can you say psycho?

C. My child is buzzing in teenage mode where she helps sporadically and then loves to sit on the couch and do nothing. Like literally. Sometimes, a momster grad student Nicole Curtis wannabe just needs a little assistant. Free type.

And yesterday, the bear in me came out. I think it probably surfaces every day, but I try to contain it. My day with my Bug at the eye doctor and skin doctor was a challenge.

Why am I pissed off and so what poked the bear?

First, I must preface this with the fact that I am surrounded by wonderful people, even the annoying ones.

1.  Strangely,  the school gave me the wrong kid when I went to get Bug out of classes for her eye doctor appointment. I had no idea who this girl was approaching me in the school office. I shit you not. It took another 15 minutes to get the right one. Then sass happened. The Bug sassed me and back-talked and jabbered the entire time we were driving out of the school yard to the eye doctor. She had to ding me for being late...which I was not...the school fucked up on kid pulling...then just kept going like I had put a quarter in her. I wanted the noise to stop. It was like asylum-ish. 

2. Financial demise. Medical bankruptcy (figuratively...but I am slowly marching that direction) I put myself here many years ago through moving and divorce and then lots going wrong. But I am digging out of the hole. It's muddy in there. Sometimes I slide down. Slowly making progress. But I'm still pissed about it. My entire day yesterday getting skin cancer check ups and glasses cost me $1600.00. Insurance covered $644.00. Rest went to my deductible. Whoopt-dee-doo.  I had for the first time enrolled in a health savings plan which gives me $100 a month less in net income but goes into the savings account...which is devastating at my income level...BUT...saved me for this purpose because I could use $700 of it to cover most of the remainder. Now that account is near dry. It's there for that reason, but I had wanted to save it for a possible surprise. Well, I guess it fits. Surprise! Big fucking bills. 

3. The world disorder is pissing me the fuck off. I can't really point my finger at one thing. It just gives me a headache. The news. Twitter. Social media. The world chaos.  I feel that even some of my good friends are shorting out and all have lost coping skills. About everything. It could be a paper cut. I have come to realize that prepping to save myself from others prepping because they feel the world is going to end and the oncoming possible civil war is a good idea. And I need a brick fortress. I know just where to find one. And a moat. That might be a little more difficult. 

4. Messy house. Unorganized life. Lack of time. Piles of Homework. I am getting bent about time constraints. Do these professors realize I have a life? Life cannot exist on this planet with all these other requirements. I can't prepare meals unless they are sandwiches slapped together or done in crock pots. That is...if I get up early enough to throw the stuff in there. Sometimes on Sunday I will cook a big meal so I have lunches. Bug has to fend for herself a lot. Man, I sound like the world's biggest whiner. God help me. Please. Like soon. 

5. Force. May the force not be with you. Opinions and nosy Nellies. Opinions are like assholes. Every one has one. Sometimes I don't want yours. Or maybe I disagree or maybe I do things differently. Sometimes I will listen. I definitely get tired of noses in my business when they are judgmental and negative all the time. Don't prophetize to me either. Don't want that. Let fate be.  The crystal ball is pretty, but I don't let it rule my life. Thank you. Nor do I rule by stars and things, but I find those ways interesting and fun for entertainment. But I don't dump my appliances or my family because Mercury is in retrograde. Only that shit is for real. Retrograde is the devil. Are you perfect? Am I that interesting? I will tell you anything you want to know. Just approach me the right way. When you come off punchy and pushy like forcing me to eat porridge, then I will get a little miffed. I may not want your porridge.  I don't care if you have lived through a thousand like scenarios and think you are wiser than all of the others after you. Give gentle advice or tell me about your experience, but not like its the Holy Grail. Each person experiences. Let it happen. You can't always stop a truck from delivering the goods because you like yellow eggs and they are only delivering brown. I know. That made no sense. Sometimes words just happen. And the mind channeling doesn't always make it to the fingers. Apologies. I am getting tired of people who PUSH their opinions on me. Shut the fuck up. Be nice. Be supportive. Be inquisitive. Just don't be all about you and all about your way. There is more than one way to skin a cat. Duh. And can't I just be happy? Is that OK with you? That I don't have misery or speed bumps every two seconds? I know. It's been nice that the road has been straight, fast, and lacking pot holes lately. God bless me. And you. And the world.


I sounded like a royal bitch.

I am off to straighten my crown. Farewell, ordinary people! 

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Farmer Mentality

Lately, the spring cleaning fever has overcome me and Bug. We have been organizing closets and taking up arms against clutter. I look around. I have realized I have Farmer Mentality Syndrome.


You know the disease....1) Symptoms of junk fever 2) Something might be useful someday 3) There's money in that thang 4) Its an antique 5) I might need that 6)I've been meaning to use that 7)It is too valuable to throw away 8) Its parts 9) It cost me money 10) It was given to me.

When you lose your security, you make everything last and keep something because it might have value or be useful in the future. It's similar to farmers who keep their broken down machinery in the bone yard. Then it gets covered with weeds, but "its still money" in the yard.

And I am still so so grateful for all I have in people and in things. Things are not what make us whole, right?

When I broke one of my grandmother's delicate cups from Germany which go to a set of china I had, I was bummed. Like hit me in the nuts, bummed. Only I don't have any nuts. Anymore. Not really. I never had any to begin with. It broke because I have too many dishes and one got pushed too close to it.

Now my set immediately went from 6 to 5. I rarely used it because it was fragile. It was mostly a keepsake to pass down. And pretty. I like pretty things.

Oh, I could have repaired it with glue, but who wants to drink from a leaky cup? And seriously? Sometimes it is time to say goodbye. That's when I realized I need to have a garage sale this summer and get some of this cleaned out. That way I can turn the bone yard into usable greenbacks. And if it fails, I need to donate it to Goodwill.

How do we accumulate so much in short order? Or did I just need to surround myself with Was it like comfort food?

Egads. Comfort junk.

I'm not a hoarder, but I have entirely too much nonsense.

I need to repair and paint the walls, rip out the carpet...etc. And so it begins...

I must do something about this farming problem.



Before the Zombie Apocalypse.


Isn't junk good for that?