New year's resolutions that probably won't happen

  Everyone has new year's resolutions. People are quitters and lazy, so they usually don't follow through on them. How many of us have had gym memberships only to go a handful of times? I decided to compile a list of resolutions that I know I'll never tackle. 

  • Read my unread library. Since I tend to possibly have a short attention span and a love of books, I have a big library of unread books. Continually, I tell myself that I'm going to finish some of these books before I buy another one. It's a similar thought to saying you're going to eat everything in your cupboard before you buy any more food. Yeah, right. Although, a book about Howard Hughes is a lot more tempting than a can of spinach. I feel if I get into more than 100 pages into Infinite Jest, that I may reach immortality. It's my Mt. Everest. 

• Finish my screenplay. I don't remember when I started it. I'm halfway through it. It's about a Jewish girl in WWII working with the resistance to kill Hitler. Even as my own worst critic, I think it's not bad. It might be better as a book. Will I ever finish it? Who knows? 

• Get a real bed. Since moving to Pittsburgh, there's been a bed issue. Luckily, in the first two places, there were beds I could use. In this place, I'm using an air mattress. It's enemy is my roommate's cat who punctured it. Normally, he just sits and stares at me in my room. A few weeks ago, he attempted a bed mount. The next day, my bed started deflating. What a dick. I inflate it every night only to wake up touching the floor while the ends are still inflated. It's like trying to get out of a waterbed. I usually have to roll out of, literally rolling out of bed. It's not an elegant roll. Inevitably, I roll onto something that injures me. Then, I groan some Danny Glover line about being too old for this shit. Since it's Christmastime & I had car problems, I haven't had money for a new one. My roommate said "Why don't you just get a bed?" I felt like pulling his spine out Predator style. Beds are expensive and it don't have a way to get one into this place. I'll most likely keep going through air mattresses for a while. 

• Get a hot body & do burlesque. Yeah, it's a dream. Similar to marrying Alexander Skarsgard. I work 40 hours a week. On my days off, I travel back to WV to see my boy. While there I have to take my mom around shopping which is mentally exhausting.  I think about exercising, but that's as far as it goes. I'm lazy. Latex dresses are not in my future. 

• Finish reading The Hobbit with my son. I originally read it to him in utero. We started it again about a year ago. After I moved, we haven't picked it back up. We're still on the barrels. 

  I'm sure I have more things I intend to not accomplish. For now, I'll keep it short. 

Things you might not know

  Lately, there have been a lot of social internet posts about things you might not know about someone that you know. Personally, I love these. Finding out obscure, interesting facts is one of my favorite things. I didn't read the posts too closely because you were supposed to post your own if you liked someone's status. I like someone's just because I liked learning their facts. But, ever since, I've been thinking about my own facts. I tried to compile a list, in no specific order.

1. My social security card has California numbers. The first three digits are the area where you were registered. Hence, why many people you know have the same first three numbers. My parents lived in a commune in California when I was a baby and registered me there. 

2. I'm afraid of taking a shower. I've tried but I freak. I start thinking of dragons or sea monsters because of water in my eyes. Believe me, I know it's nonsensical. Someone suggested it might be a form of claustrophobia. An ex tried to help me overcome it by showering with me. It quickly went from sexy to my cries of "Towel! Towel!"

3. I've never broken a bone. I make up for it in daily mishaps. Once, I fell down in my kitchen and landed on the dog dish. The dogs stared at me as I wept. I, also, fell down the stairs while pregnant. I heard Jeopardy coming on and rushed in my Hello Kitty slippers to see it. Not a good idea. 

4. We almost named Viggo, Alaric. We kicked around the names- Angus ( it's very Scottish) and Hector (I'd just seen Troy.)

5. Art Garfunkel kissed me when I was a baby. I have no musical ability which I attribute to the man stealing mine with his kiss. He's a musical vampire. Actually, my mom said he was a very nice man. He was traveling through Wheeling when we met him. 

6. Even bitter, I still retain my sense of humor. I checked my mayorships on Foursquare and discovered I'm still mayor of an ex's house. In what would be a great Yelp review, I wrote the tip "Where whores cheat with your boyfriend."

  I'm sure there are more, but not sure anyone cares to read more. 

Cat, please save me

  My mom was inquiring about how I get along with my roommate. 

  "Is he nice?"

  "Has he hit on you?"

  "Is he gay?"

 I assured her that I was safe and he has never hit on me. I don't know what goes on in her mind. Maybe she got hit on a lot in life. Or she may think I do since all of her elderly neighbors tell me I'm pretty. I assured her that I'm fine and maybe her neighbors can't see all that well. I rarely ever get hit on. That was until yesterday.

  I was sitting at home when my roommate texted wanting to know if I could let his friend inside to pick something up from him. This was a not a problem seeing as how I was laying around in my pajamas watching Supernatural. The knock came and I let him in and the fun began. He looked like my age, a bit older. He said "Wow, Steve's a lucky guy to get a roommate like you." Let me paint a picture for you. I'm wearing stretched out sweatpants, a shirt with toothpaste stains and my Gary Oldman glasses and no makeup. I also hadn't brushed my hair or my teeth, yet. His next words are "Do you party?" It was said in a very car salesman like manner. I had no idea what the shit he was talking about. I told him I didn't and quickly bailed to the kitchen. My only protection was the cat and any possible butter knives in the drawer. This guy took forever, too. He was supposed to be picking something up. What was the deal? I cleaned my Hello Kitty coffee pot over and over, hoping he would be finished soon. Finally, he came out of Steve's room. Then, he said "If you ever get lonely..." and winked at me. Yep, that happened. I felt like taking a shower after that comment. I was seriously creeped. As if I were psychic, I looked at the cat and said "Oh, I feel this isn't the end of this." Sure enough, I hear another knock a few minutes later. I tried to ignore it. But, he just kept knocking. I finally relented and opened the door. He claimed he left his jacket inside. The old George Costanza rat hat trick. I stood by the open door while he retrieved it. Luckily, he left without anymore creeping. 

  I debated about whether or not to tell my roommate. He thanked me for letting the guy in and mentioned he was an old roommate. I kept mum. He probably knows what this guy is like. Next time, I'll just conveniently not be at home. 

Pets are not for me

  As I was driving home after work, I saw a woman with a really big black dog laboriously picking up it's feces from a yard. I thought, that's why I don't have a big dog. Basically, that would be like picking up adult crap.  Just imagine walking outside with a friend when they suddenly crap in someone's yard and you have to clean it up. It's essentially the same thing. I'm glad I don't have any pets at this time in my life. My roommate has a cat. He routinely pukes in the living room. I think, that's all you, buddy. Not my cat. He's a nice cat, but even a cat is too much work for me. I have a child, a boyfriend and an unruly mother; that's more than enough.
  I always had pets growing up. Mostly dogs, a couple of cats. My mom always had dogs, but can't commit to loving anything and always got rid of them after a short time. As an adult, I had two Chihuahuas named Kiki and Queequeg. Queequeg was very well bred with long hair. Her father, Mr. Fancy Pants, was a show dog. She was a very well-behaved animal. At the opposite end of the spectrum, was Kiki. Puppy mill all the way. She was batshit crazy. Her eyes would kind of glaze over and she would go into this weird trance-like state where she would attack anything near her. It was like she didn't recognize her loved ones. It happened a lot when she slept. She loved to sleep in our bed, which was terrifying. It was like sleeping with a grenade with the pin pulled. One time, she got into a fight with Queequeg. It was ferocious. She became so agitated that her eyeball popped from it's socket. Viggo, who was three at the time, thought it was the funniest thing ever. Meanwhile, I was in tears. Bob kept an even head and got her to the vet. They had to sew her eyelid shut while it healed and she had to wear one of those cone things around her head. It was pitiful.
  When my marriage fell apart, I had to move into a place based on my income. Alas, I couldn't bring my babies with me. For some time, Bob's mom kept them with her Chihuahua, Piggy. One day, someone left the door open and Pig & Queequeg got out. No one ever saw them again. We suspect that someone took them. I hope that's the case. They were great dogs. I found a home for Kiki with a girl who had other Chihuahuas. I knew she was going to be well cared for. It broke my already broken heart. In a few months time, I lost my husband, two dogs and seeing my child everyday. It was a very depressing time.
  As much as I love animals, I doubt I'll have any again. It's a lot of work and love. Plus, as often as I move and work, I couldn't give them proper attention. It's very hard to find a place that even allows pets. When I start to sway and want one, I usually see cat puke in the living room and instantly change my mind.

Vacation

  I'm officially on vacation. Now, when most people hear that, they ask "Where are you going?" I then, tell them to "shut it." Alas, I'm poor. My brakes need fixed, so I'll be spending this week in my apartment. This does not bother me in the slightest because I need a break- from almost everything. I plan to try to get some things accomplished. I have composed a list of things, in no particular order.
  1. Clean- Laundry, car, room, my body, etc. There's a pile of laundry the size of a fat third grader hanging tough in my room. Since I have to go to a laundromat, I do it about as often as a teeth cleaning at the dentist. But, I'm running out of underwear and down to my fancy ones. The car really needs cleaned out. Maybe my tall boyfriend won't have to push garbage aside with his feet when he gets in.
  2. Start taking walks- I'm horribly out of shape. This is proven by my heavy breathing going up any flights of stairs. It's pathetic. I figure if I can start conquering the hills of my neighborhood, I can improve my health. Some of these hills look like San Francisco hills. The silver lining will be being able to keep up with my son and young boyfriend. Ain't nobody got time to be old.
  3. Finish some books I've started and haven't completed.-As someone who has diagnosed themselves with ADD, I often start books and don't finish them. It's usually because my interest/obsession has moved onto something else. There are a slew of books that need finished.
  4. Learn all the presidents in order- My own personal goal that will not benefit me in anything other than trivia and self-accomplishment. In Moonwalking With Einstein, I read about a technique called a memory palace. Things one wants to remember are associated with parts of a room or house. The person, then walks through the place in their mind as they recall the objects. It actually works. I used the technique in an acting class to learn a monologue. We'll see if I'm successful in a week.
  5. Click on Buzzfeed every five minutes- Not so much as goal as a reality.
  6. Learn another word in Russian that isn't a greeting or curse word.
  7. Spend time with friends and family- A good friend of mine had pacemaker surgery. I worried incessantly about her and want to see her. It would be a dream to see a few friends for dinner. We'll see if it happens.
  8. Save money- More like, don't spend money. I doubt this will happen since I need brake pads. Although, I'm off to a good start. I bought some groceries and have been making my coffee at home. I've resisted the urge to buy the new book of Hemingway letters (which is KILLING me.)
  9. Write more interesting blogs- this one is boring the shit out of me. When did I become so boring? Good gravy.
  I can't even get to ten. That tells you how much I like making goals. So far, I haven't been productive at all. I rearranged my room. Then, I went on a marathon watch binge of Scandal. I picked one of the trashiest shows to squander my time. It's the TV equivalent of US Weekly magazine. Today, I left the house only to go to McDonald's. Even my roommate has been more productive than me. He vacuumed the floor and unclogged all the drainpipes. Am I really going to let a stoner be more productive? I ponder this as I sip my McDonald's coke and watch Criminal Minds. I think that's a "yes." My plans for tonight include getting drunk and harassing my boyfriend. At least, I put on clothes and makeup today. That's more than I can say for yesterday.

Is everyone losing their shit?

  I don't know about the rest of you, but I think everyone is acting batshit this week. Most notable on this list is my mother. Sweet Lord, I need a break from her. When Viggo and I visited the other day, she spent her day slamming things around, grumbling under her breath (but distinctly loud enough for me to hear) and generally being a mean jerk. I've spent a lifetime of dealing with her insanity, Viggo doesn't need it. So, we left early. She cried and apologized, but honestly, I have to treat her like my bad, teenage daughter. She only learns this way. I'm just too tired to deal with her anymore. In my youth, I'd fight back with tenacity. Now, I get up and leave. Driving aimlessly around the Ohio Valley is much better than subjecting us to her terror. It would be splendid if she ever took medication for her insane moods, but that will never happen.
  People in Pittsburgh have been just as crazy. I watched one of my co-workers try to give out free samples of pumpkin cheesecake today, only to get rudely told "NO!" by about ten different people. Christ on a cracker, people, she was asking if you wanted a cheesecake sample, not an donation. What happened to common decency? I try to be nice to everyone. When I went to Panera and tried to fill up my coffee only to find three giant pots empty, I stayed calm. Ok, no I didn't, but I didn't take it out on any of the people who worked there. If you ask my boyfriend, I probably wasn't the most fun to be around, but I didn't act like a jerk. I almost punched a man from a trailer park who was shorter than me, but that's another story. He called my mom the c-word. She may be sir, but that's not for you to decide. There's enough horrendous things going on in the world, that I don't feel I need to add any of my bad feelings to it. Because of that, I'd like to think I'm liked for my sunny disposition. All I know is that I'm staying inside tonight, away from all the crazies.

The promise of bacon

  The other night I bought a candy bar that had bacon and potato chip bits in it. Before devouring it, I thought about its potential. Combining three delicious components may be the best thing ever. I would crave it everyday. What if it were hard to find? After taking a bite, I realized what a disappointment it was. The bacon was a fake bacon flavor & the potato chips were barely perceptible. It was like many things in life- you look forward to them so much, only to be disappointed. 

  I think it's similar to getting mad at my boyfriend the other day for being sick. We see each other once a week & spend a blissful night together. It's only one day a week due to work & school schedules. But, that night is always so much fun. So, when he told me he was sick & couldn't stay over, I got irrationally mad. It's like anticipating that candy bar only to find out the bacon is fake. Being a woman gives me license to get mad over ridiculous things. Being a man made him apologize for being sick. He's such a wonderful man that he even gave me a card saying he loves being with me, but he can't when he's sick. I think it also qualifies me as a jerk and him as the best boyfriend ever. I've never had such an attentive boyfriend. If I had to experience all the pain and heartache from past relationships again just to get to this point, I totally would. He's so worth it. 

I'm cranky and going to complain now

  This day sucked. In fact, this past month has sucked. I've been sick for literally 5 weeks now. The bronchitis that keeps on giving. Granted, it's a lot better, but I'm still coughing like a TB patient. I can't be my usual cheery self because I have coughing fits when I laugh. Bill Burr came to Pittsburgh and I couldn't go because I would've ruined his show with my sled dog sounding coughs. To make matters worse, I live in a mold infested house that is never cleaned and smells to high heaven like pot smoke. Oh, that's because it's full of pot smoke. My roommate smokes like he's auditioning to be in a Cheech & Chong remake of Up In Smoke. It fucking stinks. He's momentarily not here and it still smells like pot. It's not even good pot. I can tell by the smell. I've been around people who smoke good pot and this is light years away from that. There's no respite here for my lungs. I clean the hell out of this place. When I moved in, there was black mold everywhere. And here's my roommate, just hanging tough with it. Most of it just wiped right off with a sponge. Oscar the Grouch is probably cleaner.
  My car sucks. My back window has inexplicably decided to fall down and not stay up. I've resorted to taping and gluing it. I still have the ongoing problem of it overheating. Now, my breaks are squeaking. It's a piece of shit. Fuck you, J.D. Byrider.
  However, I have some good days with Viggo and usually one day a week with my boyfriend. We spend one night a week, drinking wine, eating cheese and snuggling like madmen. What would I do without him?

Never a dull moment

  There I was driving along, eating Doritos and listening to the Greg Fitzsimmons podcast when I notice a huge spotlight on a car on the opposite side of the highway. Odd, I think, but keep driving. My mind wonders to Charles Manson since I'm driving through his hometown of McMechen, WV when I notice flashing cop lights behind me. I quickly pull over, heart racing. I'm thinking, what the shit? Do I have a headlight out or something? It's labor day weekend and cops are hardcore in McMechen anyways. A very young cop walks up to the window and asks where I'm coming from. "Uh, Moundsville" I reply. He looks over my car and I hear chatter on his radio about a blue Malibu. He quickly responds "I have one pulled over, but it's not it." Apparently, there was a hit and run. He apologized about the mix-up and drove off. I thanked any higher being listening that I wasn't a black man at that moment or I would surely be handcuffed right now. McMechen cops are severe. I had one make me cry once. Lucky for me, I was just an innocent, perplexed lady driving home to Pittsburgh. So, I was just panicked the rest of the ride through WV thinking I'm going to experience this again. Maybe the next one won't be so sure. My car is pretty banged up. I hit black ice once and slid all over God's green earth. My back bumper is scraped from hitting a fence after I hit a duck. My left side mirror is loose from almost getting knocked off by my old roommate's drunk friend. I don't know if this person hit another person or a vehicle. I was getting out of Dodge. I made it home without further incident, but it took a while for me to calm down. I'm taking these asthma pills for what I think is bronchitis. The downside is that they contain Ephedrine. Quite rightly, they suggest avoiding caffeine as your blood pressure will rise. After this, my heart was beating like a ball in a raquetball court. The stress also exacerbated my cough. I sounded like a Tuberculosis patient that just took a hit off a bong. I made it back to the mold infested house that I feel gave me this infection, never being so happy to see this place. I think I need a day off from my days off.

Gay sex scandal brings couple closer together

  It's been a weird couple of days, to say the least. It all started with an email saying "your man is getting some...beef, on the side." My very first thought was my written response back "I don't think you know who I'm dating." I got the uncomfortable response of "Russian, handsome 6'2"ish medium coarse brown hair. Wise beyond his years. Packing. Sound familiar?" Shit. I was seriously worried. I've been lied to very successfully by men before and was terrified. I had that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach. I immediately text my guy asking what is going on. Of course, he was clueless. Still, I believed more in my guy than this stranger, so I wrote back "This is all public information. Anyone can find this out". The mystery writer responded with "Public information out there? yeah, duh! Which is why i thought talking about his slightly callous yet gentle touch would be more indicative...I mean names and shit are all over it's the 8" thick that I've discovered." This is when I freaked. My guy has calloused hands and a gentle touch. Fuck. Then, the kicker. A photo arrived. A graphic photo. Some guy's ass getting reamed. And the butt kind of looked like my boyfriend's. This is when we got into an uncomfortable back and forth via text and messaging. Things like "I want to believe you but this ass looks like yours" and "Babe, I could maybe understand if they were implying a woman, but a man?!" It was not the discussion you EVER want to have with your loved one. Naturally, he defended himself. First, with humor. Then, with slight anger. I kept getting more and more paranoid. It finally got to the point where I said I would have to compare his actual ass/back with the picture. He agreed.
  We planned to meet that day at a coffee shop. I was at the street corner and saw him across the street. All of my anxiety and anger dissolved. Seeing that handsome face that was there to prove himself to me made me the happiest woman. I ran into his long arms. Frankly, I didn't care if some guy had pegged him, I loved him. Maybe he had an experimental phase. Maybe he did it for money. I was going to examine his body, plead with him for the truth and get to the bottom of it.
  After a quick examination of his ass and back, I concluded that it wasn't him in the picture. For one, the guy in the picture was very pale. My guy is tan year round. Especially now. He's almost another race at this point, he's so dark. There's also the marks on his back from when he fell off a skateboard and scabbed up his back. These were absent from the picture. He has a birthmark on his right cheek, the picture didn't. The asshole was hair free, my guy's was thick with pubic forestation. The guy in the picture had some back fat. My guy is skinny as a rail. Seriously, I marvel at his body. He could be a male model. I get a lady boner looking at his flat, tan stomach.  Also, this guy was clearly "taking it". My guy is definitely not a "bottom". Things just weren't adding up at all. I decided to believe in him and the evidence.
  I had emailed back, asking for more information. I said I didn't want to go in, guns blazing without evidence. They declared they weren't going to get more involved to protect their heart. And, they jokingly said it wasn't all about me. So, I wrote back that I understood. It must have touched them in a way because they wrote back, confessing that it wasn't him and that they made the whole thing up. They admitted they were mad at the world and jealous. Saying it was childish, they apologized. But, by this time, I had fully committed to believing my boyfriend and buried it. We had a great night together that night. We talked and were very passionate. After the confession, I told my boyfriend that somebody other than me was in love with him. He wrote back that he, too, was in love. We admitted to each other how madly in love we were. In the end, it brought us closer together. Then, we had to laugh thinking about how we now both have a picture of some guy's ass on our computers. I apologized to him and thanked him for putting up with my interrogation. What a man. Most guys would've lost their shit. He calmly pulled down his pants and let me examine his ass. That's a keeper if I've ever seen one. I was sad to realize that my past relationships came back to haunt me. I want to trust him implicitly, but there were clearly some fears underneath the surface. That's something I need to work on. Meanwhile, I'll continue to fall deeper in love with this wonderful man. I'm very blessed and SO relieved that my guy is not a bottom.

The depth of my disdain for people is immeasurable

  That should be the title to my blog- The depth of my disdain for people is immeasurable. At least for this week. I really despise human beings and want to curl up in a fetal ball in a basement by myself.   It started off with a grand ole' message from a girl on the dating site. I kept thinking of deleting my profile and kept forgetting. It took one big asshole to remind me that I should get right on that. I received a message from an 18 year old girl saying something like "This little piggy cried because she couldn't find a boyfriend. Change your pictures, Grandma." I have so many issues with this that I don't even know where to begin. First, I don't know why she's even looking at my profile. When you log onto the site, it only brings up what your sexual preferences are, like for straight women, it only brings up men's profiles. How did this girl come across my profile? Secondly, why does she keep repeatedly looking at my profile to know I haven't changed my pictures. In one fell swoop, she insinuated that I was fat, lonely and old. I may be a bit chubby, but I'm not fat at all. I wear a size six. Unbeknownst to her, I, in fact, have a boyfriend. A rather attractive one, at that. And, I really don't consider myself to be old. Besides, everyone's genuinely shocked when they find out my real age, so I don't look as old as I am. These were all the thoughts swirling around in my head. Then, I rationally thought, maybe she's jealous or something. Maybe one of her guy friends likes my profile. Who knows? Who cares? I hope she chokes on her dinner.
  The next fun event was my mom calling me, hysterical, saying someone took her cat. She lives in a high rise building for seniors that can care for themselves. Rationally, no one would have any reason for taking her cat. I tried explaining this to her over the phone. Normal words came out of my mouth like "Are you sure she's not hiding?" and "Why don't you call the office and see if anyone had to enter your apartment for any reason?" I was met with "Why did they take my cat?" and "I knew this would happen!" This is when I reminded myself that I have an emotionally and mentally unstable mother who isn't rational. Of course, she found her cat in the hallway. It must have slipped out when she went to the store. But, by this time, she was in full-blown hysteria, which she feels can only be cured by drinking. So, then, I had a night of drunken phone calls. I was supposed to come down for a visit the next day, but that got nixed. She's like a child; I have to really enforce some kind of punishment when she screws up. For her, that's not seeing Viggo. I just will not put him through any of that bullshit, and she needs to be reminded of that. Instead, I brought him up here for a visit.
  Which brings us to the third shitty thing of the week- my boyfriend flaking out on me. We were supposed to meet up on my day off and he could meet Viggo. Kind of a big thing in my world. I told Viggo about him and that we would all do something together.  Then, I start getting these texts about how he's depressed and not sure he can meet. Eventually, he cancelled altogether. Which would have been fine, had it been just me. But, cancelling on Viggo sucks. I then have to explain to him that our plans have changed. Plus, it put me in a bad mood. My days with Viggo are very important to me since our time together is limited. Anyone that affects that in a bad way, makes me upset. Despite all of that, we had a blast together. Thank goodness I have him or I would probably just bust people/things with a baseball bat.
  Some good things did happen. I got a Hello Kitty coffee maker. A crazy Italian man blew kisses at me as we passed at a red light. (I'm assuming he's Italian from my stereotype of how Italian men love women. And, also, foreign men like me more than American ones for some reason.) I spent great quality time with my kid. Yeah, that's it. For more bad- a ceiling tile in my bathroom fell out and gross shit is now hanging from the ceiling. The landlord never made it over to fix it, yet. It seriously looks like green acid from Alien should be dripping from it.
  Jack White apparently hates the Black Keys. This bummed me out. How can a man I love so much hate a band I love so much? An email to his ex-wife leaked out. Their children go to school with Dan Auerbach's kids and Jack White doesn't want to sit together with him at school functions. Damn. In my world, this would be like Michael Fassbender hating Jon Hamm.
  I know these are all first world problems, but they put me on edge. I feel like punching someone. My level of disappointment and anger for people is overflowing. I guess it's just disheartening when your loved ones let you down. It happens and I'll get over it, I just won't quickly. For now, solitude is the best recovery.

The thing I fear most

  Things change with age, that's a given fact. Fears are one of these things. The things I was once afraid of and I'm now afraid of are vastly different. When I was a child, I remember getting a ghost book from the book fair at school. I devoured it and that night was afraid to shut off my bedroom light. When my Grandma came to shut it off at bedtime, I yelled "No!" and the jig was up. The book was taken from me forever, probably to keep company with my Valley Girl book that was taken because of the word "bitchin'." In my adult years, I've found that ghosts and the dark no longer frighten me. It's the stark reality of life that scares me. The thing I fear most is love. I've been in love twice before and both of these men cheated on me and devastated my world. Now, things are going so well in my new relationship. I feel pangs of... I don't know what it is and I'm afraid to examine it. I don't want it to turn into love. Love=death in my world. For several nights in a row, I've had dreams where I told him I loved him with disastrous results. Easy to analyze that. I'm not terrified of commitment; it's the fear of abandonment and rejection that stifles my expression. A flower can't grow if it's constantly getting stepped on. So, I remain indifferent. I push any feelings to the bottom of my heart. When they surface, I dunk them like a frat boy does to his girlfriend at a pool party. I'm enveloped in this safe, little world where feelings don't exist. But, they do. They gnaw at my mind and my heart. I like him so much. And, I'm terrified of this. Maybe someday, he'll look into my eyes and express some deep feelings and then I can let go with all abandon. Until then, these pangs will be mysteriously vanishing like Jimmy Hoffa or Amelia Earheart. He makes me the happiest woman on earth right now and I'm not going to screw that up.

Edward Scissorhands is needed.

  Has your pubic hair ever been so long you couldn't concentrate? This happened to me earlier today. I keep it trimmed down as a personal preference. I've never ladyscaped specifically for men. It's my junk, I'll do what I want with it. I tried to wax once on my own. Pain kept me from finishing even a quarter of the job. I ended up looking like a hamster going through chemotherapy. Razor bumps keep me from shaving, so I generally trim. I know this is all way too much information. 

  Lately, I've been super busy with work and moving to a new place in my free time. This area of my body has been neglected. Plus, my period just ended. Messing with a trim would've been like trying to plant a garden at the beaches of Normandy in WWII. I was trying to read a book and was so distracted by the feel of it. Another factor was probably the shorts I had on. My cousin, who is a diminutive size zero, gave them to me. I'm rocking a size six-eight, so I'm packing it in. Plus, they're very short shorts. All the extra hair compounded with the tightness of the shorts made me lose my mind. Immediate scissor trim was needed. I can't wait to buzz that shit. The problem is having the electic shaver. It's loud. Everyone knows you're shaving your junk. Or maybe they think its a vibrator, which is worse. So, I wait until no one is around. Lately, that's been never. There has been a revolving door of people streaming through the place where I live fixing it up for the new tenants. Meanwhile, my hair is growing like crabgrass after a storm. Now, I'm at my mom's with Viggo. Not going to attempt it here. With my luck, V would burst in the bathroom and I'd have a future of therapy sessions for my child. 

  Interestingly enough, pubic hair was a discussion on one of Joe Rogan's recent podcasts. They mentioned how crabs are almost obsolete. Girls in porn having been shaving their business for years now, which has influenced regular society's perception of hair down there. Without any pubic hair, crabs are a thing of the past. But, then they talked about how, as men, they all like some hair. That made me feel better. I've never gone for the Kojack look. I have more of a Jason Statham pube look. It's nice to know my look is at least well received. 

  I feel much better after my semi-trim. My pants aren't as snug. There's a feeling of well being. Some people might meditate, I just ladyscape. 

How Gia Genevieve taught me to love my curves

  I recently became obsessed with pinup model Gia Genevieve. Before I go on, take a moment and Google her. She is the modern Jayne Mansfield. She started out as a redhead and became a blonde. This woman is 100% sex appeal and I aspire to be like her. I didn't appreciate this oozing sexiness until I watched a video of her on YouTube. Gia is not stick thin. She embodies curvaceousness. And, I realized its her attitude. She just exudes sexiness or built like a brick shithouse, as some might say. There's a confidence to how she walks and talks. Hell, she sits on a chair smoking a cigarette with absolute, I-am-gorgeous confidence. Whereas, some girls, like me, might be very subconscious about any extra weight were carrying.
  I'm going to try my own experiment- I'm going to pretend I'm Gia for a week. If I carry myself in this same manner, will I exude the same sexiness? Well, of course not, but I might eek out a little sexy. One of the things I love the most about her is her love for her boyfriend. I'm obsessed, so I follow her on Instagram. There are many pictures of the two of them. I'm sure you're imagining a suave, Clooney looking guy. Nope. She's with a skinny, tattooed guy with a huge beard. It's adorable. Practically every comment under his posts of them are "Dude, you're so lucky" or "Your woman is smoking". By the way they look at each other, you can tell it's pure love. I think he posted "My everything" under one picture of her and made my heart melt. I can't say that I never go for good-looking guys because that would be a blatant lie. Seriously, look at my current boyfriend. But, I don't give a shit about money or status. That's very evident by almost everyone I've dated. I like that a lot of pin up models have regular boyfriends. It's the height of adorable.
  I must say that my boyfriend is a huge reason why I'm more comfortable with my body, also. He dotes on me and my curves. The parts of my body that I'm most uncomfortable with, he loves. My butt is huge in my mind, but he loves it. My thighs and hips are out of control, but he compliments them all the time. I was so nervous when he first saw me naked, but was immediately surprised by his delight in my curves. His constant compliments have made me feel like a beautiful woman in his presence. I've never had a man be so wonderful to me in that aspect. With the exception of one, the rest of the guys I've dated have never payed me any compliments. After a while, you doubt your self worth. Coming from a childhood of intense criticism from my peers, I need constant reassurance that I'm not hideous. I think those are mental scars that will never heal. So, my gratitude goes out to Gia Genevieve for showing me how to rock that body and Vasily for loving all of the parts of mine that I hate. I think, for some time, I'll hold my head high.

  

What is wrong with some women

  This title isn't a question. I'm going to tell you what's wrong with some women. It's a certain demographic-middle aged and up housewives. They've never worked a day in their lives and don't get enough attention from their husbands/family. Trust me, you encounter this type of lady in every retail and grocery store out there.The  perfect example happened to me and my boyfriend tonight. We stopped at a Chinese Buffet. As we're waiting to be seated, an older woman comes in for a pick-up order and somehow gets waited on ahead of us. She then proceeds to draw out the interaction for as long as she can. "Well, what's in this won ton soup? My husband can't eat...." Rather than let the woman seat us, she takes us as much of this woman's time as humanly possible. I knew deep down inside that she was delighted. I see this all day everyday. She was getting attention. Attention from the Chinese lady, glaring stares from me; it was her paradise. I do social experiments all the time at work. Try it for yourself if you work in retail. Take today, for example. I was building a table display. At one point, the whole half side of the table was bare, the other half filled with books. Suddenly, there's a small group of  various women milling around this table to the point where I can't work on it. But, I know their game. What they want is for me to get bothered that they're in the way. I know this because they stand at the empty spots. It's weird. But, I'm not new to this dog and pony show. I walk away and do something else entirely. After less than a minute, they disperse. No one is there to give them attention. Sadly, negative attention is mostly what they crave. Like a bad child, who continuously does bad things to get their parents attention, these bitches spend their days trying to mentally smother people everywhere. You see them at the grocery store, pulling out their checkbook to pay for things. Who uses a checkbook? Bitches who need attention, that's who. You seem them at retail stores complaining about everything from the price of an item to the state of the restroom. Most of all, they're just in your way. They walk slow and zig-zaggy ( all the harder for you to get around them). They purposefully stand in front of displays for ridiculous amounts of time. Just look and you'll notice them. Try my social experiments if you work in retail. I've been doing it for years and it never fails. I know I'll never become one of these creatures simply because I have manners. That, and I've worked in retail for many years.

My boy

  I get very sentimental this day every year. It's the most important day of the year for me- Viggo's birthday. I feel like life didn't begin until I had him. People always try to explain the feelings one has for their own child. It's almost indescribable. How do you describe something so pure and strong? It's completely focused and self-less. How can you love something more than anything else in the world? You wouldn't even think it's possible. It is. The old line about being a parent is the hardest thing to do is very true, too. No bullshit. There isn't any guidebook for all the twists and turns that come along. My hardest decision was moving to Pittsburgh. Although I see Viggo as much as I did in WV, I'm still an hour away. I can't just be there at the drop of a hat, so it's an emotional block. It's hard to make a decision where you have to accept that your life will be better, but you'll be farther away. I struggle with it all the time. I just have to remind myself that I would be sitting alone in WV just the same as sitting alone in PA. I still see him on my days off. In an ideal world, his dad and I never would've separated. Alas, it's not an ideal world. He had to learn that way too young. I know sometimes he resents me for the way things are. Someday, I hope he understands. The fact that I don't see him everyday tears away at my soul. We just make the best of it. He has the best dad a kid could ever ask for and that brings me so much comfort.
  The age of eight was difficult. Mom just isn't cool. There was lots of eye rolling and huffing and puffing. I feel nine will be similar. I'm told that they turn around at twenty and become your best friend. Great, only eleven more years. He'll just have to put up with me loving on him constantly and calling him my "baby bear". That'll never change. I'm proud of the boy he has become. He's smart as a whip and the coolest kid around. I love that I introduced him to Doctor Who and now he wears ties and vests. I love that when I look at him, I see both his dad and myself in him. I wish I could give him more of myself and more things in life. All I can do is be this flawed mom who tries her best. I wish I could express to him how deep my love for him is and how different I wish things were. Maybe he'll never understand my perspective or how deeply I love him. That's the perils of being a parent. Parenthood is like stumbling blindfold through a dark room. Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel. I just know that he's the reason I breathe. I know for a fact that he's the reason I make it through everyday. At my darkest moments, he's the only reason I've gone on. I'm so blessed and grateful to have him. He's the brightest start in my universe. What a blessing it is to be his mother. What a beautiful boy.

I'm going to skip this day next year

  After you're 21, birthdays just aren't that fun anymore. They're quite disappointing. I always look forward to the day, and then gradually hate it more and more as the day passes. This year is no exception. I made the choice to work. I could have requested it off, but, not, why would I do something sensible like that? Instead, I began my day at seven and grumbled all day. I was exhausted for one. It's been unbelievably hot at night and I don't have an air conditioner. At some point, during the past two nights, I've stripped off all of my clothing only to sweat just as much in my nudity. The heat is unbearable. Plus, there's a nightingale that starts his shit up every night around one o'clock. It drives me to the brink of insanity.I was tired and impatient all day because of it.  After work, I met up with the boyfriend to go for dinner. That didn't go well, either. Our server was an uncaring, distracted girl. I kept yearning for the man who seated us to take over our service. When he brought us extra napkins, I almost begged him to wait on us instead of her. Another possible mistake was drinking two frozen margaritas. It tends to exacerbate your bad feelings. Things were ok, until it was time for the check. Then, I hear the words "Two checks, please". What. The. Shit. Two? I guess I just expected to get treated on my birthday. I mean, am I wrong? Maybe I am. Maybe I'm a total, pampered ass. But, man, when I heard that, suddenly I was re-evaluating everything. How can he be so amazing in every other way? Is this some kind of karmic trade off? He can be courteous, loving, sweet and adoring, but he'll never pay for your birthday dinner. Am I that shallow that I let it bother me? Yes, apparently I am. Well, that and I didn't get anything. Not a card or anything. I thought he would treat me to dinner. Hell, even Non-boyfriend admitted he didn't get me anything for Valentine's Day but would've taken me to dinner, had we met up. I didn't hide my emotions well, though. He knew I was upset and ended up paying for dinner. I felt like an ass. The rest of the night was him falling asleep for a bit and me crying for about an hour straight. It's just so baffling. He's absolutely amazing. Like the things he says to me give me goosebumps. He told me today that he glimpsed at me sleeping last night and I looked like a movie star, I was so lovely to him. I mean, that's the shit. I've never had a guy say such sweet things to me. And, this is on a daily basis. So, I felt bad about getting upset. He's a great guy and treats me so well that I think it built up these weird expectations in my head of how the day would be. I mean, in the end, I would much rather hear these wonderful things and not get treated special on my birthday. It's like when you're sick and you make those imaginary deals with God or some deity. "Please, God, if I get better I swear to never..." Or whatever is going on that you don't want happening and you'd trade something off for it to go away. In some feverishly lonely moment, I probably made one of these pacts. "Please, give me a strapping, handsome man who puts me on a pedestal and compliments me abundantly. I will give up good birthdays forever!" For now, I just appreciate my many friends who wished me a happy birthday and every other, normal day with my boyfriend.

sick

  I've been sick the past two days. When I'm sick, I compare the current sickness to past ones, kind of like relationships. This one is bad, but I've had much worse. The worst was when I threw up 23 times in one day. I was living in Columbus with Bob. Bob always thought I was a hypochondriac. In reality, I'm just a very sickly person. I get every sickness that goes around. Naturally, this time, he didn't take it seriously. Until he found me on the floor of the hallway near the bathroom and I informed him how many times I threw up. Even when I went into labor, he tried to talk me into waiting and going to the doctor the next day. On his behalf, I wasn't due for another month. Our views on my health were always at the opposite end of the spectrum.
  More recently, I caught an awful case of the flu when I was seeing NBF. He was very ill with the flu and I went to give him Gatorade. That's what caring, non-girlfriends do. Unfortunately for me, I caught his bug. I was having lunch with him and not feeling well at all. Thankfully, I left and made it home just in time to projectile vomit in my bathroom. I'm convinced I could have knocked a man down with the force of it. In addition, I was also violently shitting. That reminded me of having the flu at the same time as Viggo. He was in the bathroom being sick. I was urging him to be quick because I was sick. Then, he got to see his own mother shit her pants. One toilet + two cases of the flu=soiled mom pants and years of therapy ahead, I'm sure. It's probably karma for him drowning me like a shower in puke when he was three. He had a weird two weeks where he did nothing but puke. We thought he was fine, until we drove to WV to visit Bob's family and he rained puke upon me. He does this weird thing where he paces when he's puking, too. It's like a vomit fire hose. I puke silently like a model with an eating disorder. Then, I cry. Well, except for the last time I was sick. Then, I loudly barfed like a man. Men are so loud when they threw up. I remember Bob having the flu. It sounded like he was murdering seals in the bathroom.
  I think the worst part of this current sickness is how the toilet here doesn't flush all that well. Seeing the remainders of your revisited dinner only inspires more sickness. I made the mistake of thinking I was better last night and ate ice cream with the handsome Vasily. On our way back, we sat down to rest. Good thing, because I felt like I was going to simultaneously shit and puke. I kept this to myself. Not the impression you want to make on your new boyfriend. However, I couldn't hide it for long and ended up dying a bit on my bed. I've been here ever since, baking in the heat like Colonel Kurtz without his beloved followers. If I had a follower, they would have been sent to fetch me a Sprite. Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow. For now, it's more rest and Arrested Development.

Hormones

  It's that time of month. Well, almost. It's coming. It should be feared like "Winter is coming" in Game Of Thrones. This one is going to be a doozy. My periods are either very emotional or very physical. Luckily, they're one or the other. Sometimes I feel I should equip myself with a bomb shelter and hole up until it's over. This is one of those times. There's lots of anger brewing inside me. Uncontrollable, Hulk-like rage. Today, I just found myself indiscriminately yelling at people as I drove. I was like Archie Bunker behind the wheel. "Look out, van of Jews!" or "Don't pull out on your bike, Chinaman." and "Watch out, white dude!" I felt like everyone was conspiring against me to get to work. This is after waiting 20 minutes for my roommate to get out of the shower and move his car because he blocked me in. How much manscaping can you do? I thought guys just washed their junk, their hair and bailed. I don't know what took him so long. So, late for work, lack of sleep and premenstrual craziness did not add up for good times. This period seems to have brought immense anxiety over money, too. I feel like I should be chain smoking like Denis Leary as I stress over things. Not enough money for the bills and shit I need. How much more can I scale back? I already eat Chef Boyardee everyday for my lunch/dinner. My only luxury is a cup of coffee at work. If I have to give that up, I'll cause someone grievous, bodily harm, for sure. I've seriously contemplated selling my used underwear online for extra cash. Yes, it really exists. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or dirty underwear. I've researched it; you can also sell stockings. Really a cash cow, if you're so inclined. Am I? It's starting to look better and better. When I see people buying frivolous things, I get enraged. This is most likely how Marx got started. He was probably coming home from buying his Spaghetti-o's and saw someone at Panera reading their Kindle and eating an $8 sandwich. This happens to me almost everyday. One day, I'll snap, yelling "Aristocrats!" out my window. For now, I'll just sit here and stress  and listen to my stomach growling.

First impressions

  I tend to not make a good first impression. People seem to get some notion of what I'm like in their head that is very inaccurate. Take my ex-husband-When he first met me, he thought I was rich and listened to Whitney Houston. A former date (NBF) said he ran into a girl I met with about getting an apartment. She instantly did not like me for whatever reason. One of my co-workers said "It's because you're pretty" very matter of fact. I might disagree, but the point is moot. I didn't get the apartment. This girl was complaining about her current roommate. So, NBF said he asked if a girl who "looked like Marilyn Monroe" looked at the apartment. His description, not mine. Not that I would ever hate THAT comparison. Anyway, I hope this is the roommate from hell, because she girl snubbed me for no reason. Girls can be so unfair. I was sweet & courteous. The perfect potential roomie. Her loss.

  I don't know why I give off weird impressions. A lot of people say that thought I would be snobby. Maybe it's my good posture. Perhaps I should slump upon greeting others. I'm always curious as to what anyone's first impression of me was. I recently started seeing someone. I had an absolutely adorable roommate at my old apartment. When I would come home from work, she'd be in the kitchen cooking with her boyfriend. Both so cute together. The day before we all moved out, I came home to find a third person in the kitchen- her handsome brother. He was so excited to meet me, "So, this is the mysterious roommate from the mysterious room.", he said. I assured him I was not mysterious. We started talking & literally talked the whole night (he really distracted me from packing). I think we were just so fascinated by each other. It was very platonic. We're the opposite of each other- he's talk, skinny & Russian. But, underneath our exteriors, it's like we had known each other for years. Instant comfort with each other. So much so, that we talked until we fell asleep on my bed. Gradually, our friendship deepened into something more. Thinking of myself as mysterious is hilarious. I think he's learning how silly I am. His first impression was probably way off, too. But, I'm glad the mystery was there to get his attention. One of the best nights of my life. 

  

Gotta love me!

  Recently, I learned that more than a few people back home in West Virginia are mad at me for not contacting them since I've moved. I'm perplexed by the situation mostly because they're all adults who can just as easily contact me and they haven't. I'm pretty sure I'm only responsible for my son, but maybe I'm wrong. It hasn't been a snobby thing. Honestly, I just haven't thought of a lot of things. We're talking about someone who lost most of their underwear in their most recent move. I don't exactly have it together all the time. So, when I found out that there's been some badmouthing and grumbling, it kind of hurt my feelings. I would never snub anyone. Hell, I make friends with sworn enemies and forgive my mother a million times over. Why would I deliberately not contact someone? Oh, that's right, I wouldn't. Maybe I've got a lot on my mind. I'm living on my own, still relatively new at my job, driving back and forth to WV a couple of times a week. Things tend to slip my mind.
  I saw a relative the other day when I went home to visit. You would have thought I'd murdered someone in the family. My reception was a bit icy. I tried to smooth things over with a hug, but was greeted with "Oh, I should be so honored!". It hurt my feelings a lot. I'm just not on a phone or visit basis with my family. And, it has slipped my mind. I haven't thought to contact any of them other than on Facebook. Pretty much that's what Facebook is for me- keeping in touch with people I otherwise wouldn't see. In my defense, no one has reached out to me, either. I'm pretty easy to find. So, any friends or family that are mad at me- I'm not your mom. You have hands and a mouth; you can communicate just as easily as me. It would be great if when you start to say something bad about me, you instead decide to contact me and tell me how much you miss me. I may screw up a lot, but this isn't on me and it isn't intentional. Forgetting my son's backpack for school? Yes. Intentionally not contacting old friends or family? Not in my blood and you all know it. I'm not even a Fleming anymore and they are more gracious towards me. At least once a week, one of my former sisters-in-law or nieces or nephews will say something friendly or loving via Facebook.
  It could also be that WV is pretty boring and I'm providing some gossip/excitement for others. Well, you're welcome. This must be how a Kardashian feels (minus paying for this publicity). Sadly, I'm one of those people that gets bothered if someone is mad or doesn't like me. I want to please everyone. I should have been a diplomat. I'm bothered that there's any kind of anger directed at me without my doing anything to really deserve it. There's a lot of people I haven't talked to in awhile, but most of them are taking it pretty well. I have diehard friends in Columbus that I haven't seen since I've moved. It doesn't mean I don't love you or care anymore. I just live somewhere else and have other things on my mind. Sometimes all relationships are as tricky as dating relationships. Maybe I'm more like the guys who text back a week or a month after you've contacted them. Possibly, the bro house has worn off on me too much. Come to think of it, I have eaten a lot of pizza and have high-fived excessively in the recent past. In the end, I can't fret over it. I have too many other things on my mind- getting to work without my car breaking down, people trying to steal my identity, how I'm going to exist on my meager earnings, how fabulous it is to kiss handsome Russians, and what is going on in Viggo's world. That's more than enough. Unless you're Viggo, you can contact me as easily as I can contact you. Now, stop being mean. Behave yourselves. Remember how wonderful I am. Smile when you think of me or go jump in a lake.

Me, a Belgian and two bros

  I've finally met all of my roommates. One is Belgian. I get along with him the best. Maybe because we bonded over the lack of hot water in the house our first few days. The other roommates weren't here, yet. Or maybe it's because they seem like normal guys. I've heard the word "bro" thrown around a few times. Everyone is nice, so I'm happy. It's an eclectic mix here. So, it's like "New Girl" except substitute two jocks and a foreigner. I can still fulfill the kooky role like Zooey Deschanel. Right now, one roommate has a friend over & they're playing video games. This friend was a total bro. Muscular, shorts, t-shirt, tennis shoes, Axe body spray. At least I feel safe. Bros can fight if needed.
  I always wonder what impression I'm making. I feel for the Belgian. He's known me a week and has seen me drunk and crying (not at the same time). We went out one night for drinks and to get acquainted. I had three drinks, so he got to have me stagger home, my arm wrapped around his. The crying was when he came to my rescue after my car overheated. We rode back to it with emergency water, me crying all the while. Girls cry in a crisis. It's our Achilles's heel. I didn't want to be crying. But, I was on my way to WV for Mother's day and I'd already had my credit card number stolen earlier in the week. Straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. He was cool and collected the whole time. He just kept saying "We put water in and you go to West Virginia". I lacked his confidence, however, and stayed home on Mother's day. I cried as hard as I did when I first saw Titanic. If you ever want to gauge crying, Titanic usually ranks a ten on a scale of one to ten. Fucking sad. That and Sophie's Choice. That shit is raw. Anyway, I missed my child so bad; I felt like my heart was breaking.
  Oh, yeah, they're bros. I just heard someone get called a "fag". I think I smell meat, too. Bros love meat. Maybe I'm a bro. I should join them.

The new Bridget Jones

I was recently told that I look like Renee Zellweger by a gorgeous, funny guy whose every word I hang on. Sometimes I see the resemblance. Especially when she plays Bridget Jones. It's depressing to read about how she gained all this weight and she ends up being what looks like my real life weight. Thanks, Hollywood. Due to the comparison, I examined her and the movie more. I've come to the conclusion that I'm the American Bridget Jones.
1. The features- We have the same squinty eyes that get pushed up even more by our full cheeks. Blonde hair, pale skin.
2. The underwear- I wear the big underwear just like Bridget. When I was young, I rocked the thongs. Directly after Viggo was born, I was at the store buying Spanx. To compound the big underwear , I wear what looks like even bigger underwear over them. Men are always baffled. They start undressing you & just stop, perplexed by how to get them off. I usually just save the moment by quickly rolling them down & tossing them aside. I might as well throw a bucket of cold water on them. Spanx are not penis risers.
3. We're attracted to the bad ones- she had Hugh Grant; I had a list that I don't want to think about. There's just something thrilling about a jerk. A huge flaw in the female brain. Maybe we like the every second of uncertainty that comes from dating an asshole.
3. We're clumsy- Those silly hijinks you see in the movie can be performed for you in real life by me. Who else falls down the stairs while pregnant because she heard Jeopardy coming on & hurried in her Hello Kitty slippers to catch it? My blunders aren't as adorable as hers. She slides down a fireman's pole, revealing her "arse". I accidentally walk around work, zipper down, sans underwear. Yeah, true story.
4. We both subject our friends to our dating woes. I'm always texting some detail to a girlfriend. I'm like a lame Sex & the City character. My relationships seem to last as long as theirs do on that show. I need a round table discussion like she had going on. A friend that curses a lot like hers would be greatly entertaining.
5. We stare at others while they're sleeping- it's out of love. I stare at Viggo every time he sleeps. I stare at guys because it's the one time you can get a good, honest look at them. Ok, I'm a creep, I accept it.
This list could go on, but I'm sure no one wants that. Let's just say that we're very similar, that character and me. Most of all,
we both have a great desire for true love. That's a wonderful thing.

Am I the Mila Kunis of OKCupid?

  I've noticed on the dating sight, a couple of guys repeatedly visit my profile several times a day. I think, odd, it doesn't change. Why are they..... Wait, are the doing something to my pictures? I mean, it's possible. Guys will jerk off to anything. I bet even Mrs. Butterworth has fueled a few minutes of ecstasy. These boys are young, around 26. They probably have Mrs. Robinson fantasies going on. I take that back-Stifler's mother from American Pie fantasies. No way that generation knows The Graduate.
  It's just odd because I've never inspired that in a man, that I know of. They're normally fantasizing about other women while with me. Or, doing other women. Guys thinking of me while they jerk is hilarious. Those must be some good, deceiving pics because in real life, it's a shit show. Take yesterday, for example. I was counting money at work, picked up a stack of ones and proceeded to drop them, fan style like I was a geisha. Dollar bills went everywhere. While moving the other day, I got my bookcase down my five flights of Downton Abbey servants quarters only to have it crumple like a cracker when putting it into my car. My normal roommate witnessed the whole thing. Even me screaming "really?!" at it. So, yeah, not fantasy material.
  I was once told, as an insult, that I was a "wanna be bombshell". Uh, duh. Who doesn't want to be one? Maybe I go a bit further than most gals. I do own pasties (made by Go-Go Amy).  I like who I am. No, I'm not a "bombshell" as much as I try. I don't have a great body. It's all smoke and mirrors, or I should say, Spanx and a great Victoria's Secret bra. You get to this age and it is what it is. Better get comfortable and accept who you've become. The other day, I read an article with actor Idris Elba. He said sometimes he hates looking in the mirror. If that beautiful man feels that way, then, I'm in great company. We all cringe in the morning at our reflection. But, when someone looks at you and truly tells you that you're beautiful, it's a beautiful thing in itself. Maybe we should all tell ourselves that in the mirror. There, I ended that all heart-warming like a Farrelly brothers movie.

April can suck a dick

  This month has sucked. Not just for me, either. I know quite a few people who've had an awful month. Mine has been more discombobulating than anything else. Some things were annoying- I had to take my computer to Geeksquad three times in one week. Some were stressful, like finding out I had three weeks to find a new home. Others were straight up suck like arguing with my mom and getting a flat tire. There were the Boston bombings on the anniversary of Lincoln's shooting and right around the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Wasn't Columbine this month, too? My troubles are nothing compared to some people's. But, it's all relative. We all have troubles. My ex broke up with his longtime girlfriend. That's worse than a flat tire. Regardless, I still cried about it. The tire, not the break up. Although, I feel really bad for him. It's sad. Despite how they met and how it affected my marriage, I got over it and was very happy for both of them. I thought they would get married. It sucks being single and I don't wish it on him at all. He's a great guy and the best dad out there. It somehow led to a massive argument with my mother. She insisted Viggo is going to be "screwed up" because we split up and now he's seen our subsequent failed relationships. What a dick. That would be like Hitler telling Tom Selleck he has a weird mustache. Coming from one of the worst mother's out there, I should have taken it with a grain of salt. I mean, I turned out ok with her as a mother. She proceeded to tell me it wouldn't matter because "she wouldn't be around when he was older". Which I take to mean her death. When I was little, it was "I'm going to go to California and be a go-go dancer." Now, it's she's not going to be around. I'll tell her what I told her when I was seven- "Well, go ahead and do it." Asshole. What kind of a jerk says these things to her child? Viggo has two parents who love him and put him first. He's smart and well cared for. He's fine. Only when I threatened to leave with him, did she cool her shit. I hope it brought back memories of family taking me from her when she pulled this shit earlier in life. She's always the martyr. No one has it as bad as her. I told her to get her head out of her ass and start thinking about someone else first, instead of herself. I said he needs positive support in his life, not Debbie Downer, go-go dancer.
 

Beginners will mess your shit up

  I watched the movie Beginners the other night and it fucked my shit up. I sat and cried an hour after watching it. It struck so many chords with me that I don't even know where to begin. Ewan McGregor plays a man named Oliver who is recently dealing with the loss of his father. His parents were married until his mother died. His father, played by Christopher Plummer, decides to come out and begin his life again. It runs back in forth through time- the current situation of Oliver taking care of his father's dog, dealing with his death and falling in love again despite his relationships never working out.
  There were so many things that I identified with- starting a dating life after your prime, not ever having relationships work, being in a relationship and not being happy. I think the most heart-breaking scene for me was of Oliver as a child seeing his mother walk around the house depressed. She's in a loveless marriage and an engaging mother that tries to hide it. But, as explained by Melanie Laurent's character, Anna, your face show a normal expression, but others can read your true emotions. It made me think of Viggo. I think of how many times he saw me crying or depressed over the past few years. I always tried to hide it, but it always surfaced. Eventually, he became rather nonchalant about my tears. "Are you crying again, Mom?". It's rough to have your child see you so vulnerable. You're their protector. I cried a lot when I split with his dad and cried even more when I split with Patrick. At times, I considered suicide. Viggo was the only thing that kept me going. To visually see how that looks in a movie killed me.
  I, of course, identified with Oliver's father starting over late in life. Granted, he's much older than me, but I still know what it's like. Dating isn't an easy world to re-enter. He finds love only to find that it's not exclusive. (Very reminiscent of me and NBF and him wanting an "open" relationship).
  Meanwhile, in the present, Oliver falls in love with Anna. She's an actress who never stays in one place due to work. He's a guy who always leaves his relationships. They're trying to make something out of what they have. Oliver's personality reminded me of myself- caring, kind of nerdy, wanting to give his heart but so afraid. The things we've done to ourselves and the things others have done change us and screw us up. If you touch a hot stove, you learn to never do it again. Instinctively, we do the same with relationships. Once bitten, twice shy, right? If you've been emotionally mauled like you're Grizzly Man, then, it's not so easy to let go of shit. You go into these emotionally, self-imposed exiles, keeping your heart safe. Oliver and Anna are used to being alone. There's serious trepidation about being together. It's easier to walk away sometimes.
  I can't express how much I loved this movie. Mike Mills did a stupendous job. You'll laugh and cry and think about a lot of things.

It's that day tomorrow

  Valentine's Day is only ever one of two things:glorious or dreaded. There aren't any people out there who have "eh" feelings about it. Most likely, you're a man, it's an obligation and you dislike it. Or you're a woman, know you will get something and love it. Your dating/marital status also determines your love/hate for this holiday. I don't know what to expect. I've been seeing the same guy for exactly a month today, who may or may not want a relationship in the future. I'm a notorious, great gift giver. When I was first dating Bob, the ex husband, I got him an acoustic guitar, which he still has to this day. I try to really aim for something someone wants, but maybe can't or won't buy for themselves. I considered getting my non-boyfriend (NBF) a session with a chiropractor. He mentions it frequently and I found a few places offering half-off, first visits. That is, until he declared that he might not want a relationship. I believe, I drunkenly told him of my plan and said "Not now!". A lot of interesting things came out of my mouth after that bomb was dropped. Four beers and disappointment are not a good combination. Nothing seems to have changed between us, in a good way. We still spend almost every night together, cuddling in bed. We text throughout the day and say we miss each other. Like I said, he doesn't have to label what we are, I just want to be the only non-labeled girl in his love life. I'm not a sharer. I'll never be a sister wife or even part of a threesome. I'm jealous. It's not going to change.
  My solution for a present was to buy sexy coupons. It's a goofy pack of coupons that say things like "One coupon for any way you like it" or "You get a free striptease". Not typically something I would buy, but I was stumped. I knew I had to go cheap and non-committal with this gift. I couldn't get anything too nice or he'd think I want to chain him in my basement and force-marry him. I didn't want to completely skip it, either. That's just not me. I'm very giving. So, sexy coupons. Personally, I LOVE getting something for Valentine's Day. I'm very traditional. I love roses, chocolate, etc. But, I have zero expectations this year. It's just a weird holiday to fall this soon in my non-relationship. I'll be spending the day with my true valentine, Viggo. That's all I need. I know exactly what to get him and I know I can smother him with mommy kisses. As long as I have my baby, I can survive this stupid holiday.

First rule of relationships: don't talk about relationships

  This past week has made me insane in respect to dealing with the opposite sex. That's all ages. From eight to 31, specifically. I've realized that I'm at the mercy of the male gender. Whether I like it or not, they dominate my day and emotions.
  First, there's Viggo. I don't know whether he's having trouble adjusting to our new conditions or it's just his age, but he's been kind of distant. I know, he's eight. But, hear me out. The past few visits have consisted of lots of eye rolling, huffing and back talk. Mom is clearly not cool anymore. Seven was a very affectionate age. Eight is like hanging out with a sixteen year old. He's not keen on me walking him up to the school door or giving him kisses when I buckle him into the car. The most recent development is the need for privacy. "Mom, can I get dressed alone?". I think he's discovered his penis. I'm not ready for any of this. He's still a baby. I just rewatched Louis CK's bit about being nine and obsessed with his penis. Being nine and rubbing against anything and everything. Once again, I'm not ready for this. When do boys get "the talk"? You can wait with girls until they're at least twelve.  I remember the talk. You're going to start bleeding once a month. Boom. Next week, I got it. It's like my mom and grandmother were witch doctors or something. They could sense the force. Thankfully, they told me in time. Can you imagine just finding that in your pants? No wonder Carrie set her school on fire with her telekinesis. Give somebody a heads up. That's shit you need to know. With boys it doesn't seem that urgent. You're going to constantly fondle this thing and let it run your life from this point on. You'll jizz in socks and do anything to satisfy that thing in your pants. Oh, and you''ll be emotionally dead inside with regards to women. Simple enough. Maybe his dad should handle this talk. I don't want him to change. I don't want him to become one of these frustrating beings that baffles the opposite sex. He's my baby bear.
  Onto my other passion for insanity- my current dating life. I've been seeing the same guy for almost a month now. We see each other every night. I sleep at his apartment every night. We hang out and say we miss each other. But, during one drunken, pinball playing night it all went awry. Somehow we got on relationship talk. He says he doesn't know if he's ready for one. He wants to take things slow. I'm fine with that. I just want to know that if I'm spending every night with you, that I have potential for a relationship. Motherfucker, I'm not going to spend every, goddamn night with you only to have you turn around and declare you like someone else. That's all I'm asking. It's just a common courtesy. If we're devoting this much time to each other, I want to know that he's not seeing other people. I don't need to label this thing or get married or any bullshit. I just want to know I won't get fucked around on. Clearly, this all stems from my last major relationship. He was married before, also. His wife cheated on him. So, I understand his trepidation. However, I guess he cheated on his last girlfriend. Kind of like, the universe owed him. Not cool at all. He broke some girl's heart and she never got over it. I can't imagine. So, in one fell swoop, he tells me he doesn't want a relationship at the moment and he's a former cheater. Granted, he learned he made a huge mistake. And, he says he really likes me. Maybe, I didn't take it all so well. I might have, maybe said "I was falling in love with you until tonight". Yeah, not the best line. He said "Oh, until tonight?". Yeah, until tonight. Then, I mumbled shit about scaling back my emotions. I remember a very good friend experience the same thing with her boyfriend when they first started going out. She didn't get the answers she wanted to hear. Guys just can't stand the thought of commitment. However, they're still together. It's like Fight Club. You just can't talk about it. It can be there and exist. Just don't talk about it. She advised me to just keep acting the same as always. So, I have. He has, too. For this not being a relationship, I sure get told I'm missed a lot. He fixed my broken headlight in my car. Because that's what casual daters do. Anyway, I'm just going to roll with it. My friend Amy said it best when she suggested to just enjoy whatever it is that we have for however long it lasts. In a bizarre way, it was freeing. I suddenly stopped giving so much care to the whole thing and just said "fuck it". If he doesn't want to get on board, I'll hit the next stop. I like him tremendously, but, I just can't emotionally burden myself. I'm afraid of getting into a relationship, myself. I don't have the best track record. I only have a sliver of a soul left after the last one. I can't take more heartbreak. Of course, I'm down for taking it slow. I just don't want to be misled. Women aren't casual about their emotions like men seem to be. We want to get into your mind and soul. You're supposed to write odes to us and have us be your muses. I don't know where it'll go from here. I've given up. I just really, really don't think any man wants a relationship. It's a new era. A dead, wasteland of an era. Love is just a mirage. I compare guys wanting a relationship to unicorns. You don't see any of those prancing around, do ya? Nope. They don't exist. In the meantime, I guess I'll just spend EVERY night with my guy friend. Who misses me when I'm not around. But, God forbid, I won't expect anything or ever want to label it. That's too traumatic. A woman mentioning relationships is akin to someone trying to touch a deer or grab a butterfly. Have you ever done that? NOOOO. They take off BECAUSE THEY MIGHT DIE. Enter the mind of a man. Relationship=death. It makes you feel like the old man from Phantasm, creepily pointing your finger and yelling "BOY!". We're not trying to drag you to hell. We just want to hang out and see you everyday, exclusively. I'm very easy to date. I let my boyfriends keep their space, hang out with their buddies, etc. You're two adults in a relationship. You're not his mom. Do your thing. Just don't stick it somewhere else. That's all I ask. It isn't much. I don't drag men to romantic comedies or take them shopping. I hate that shit. I watch Tom Hardy movies and curse like a sailor. I drink like Hemingway and talk about how great boobs are. I'm the best girlfriend you could ask for. I just don't want to be shot down before I can get going.

Bueller....

I can't decide whether I love or hate texting. It is an instantly gratifying thing to contact someone anywhere at anytime. It's even better to not have to actually speak with someone. Anyone who knows me, knows I hate talking on the phone. Texting is ideal. It's also great to say meaningless things like "Can you pick up some bread?" or "Did you ever notice what a big head so-and-so has?". These aren't things you need to dial up a conversation to have. The downfall of texting, at least to me, is people's response time. Women, generally, are very considerate & respond in a timely manner. Men, however, act as if they're in some time vortex where they receive your message at a vastly different time from when it was sent. I get extremely frustrated with almost every man that I text in any context. The exception being, Bob, the father of my child. He's always been a considerate man & responds immediately. My friend, Guy, also responds promptly. We have many discussions about how inconsiderate people are. Every other guy sucks it. Freaking M, would span days and sometimes weeks in between responding to me. I eventually decided I deserved better than that & haven't talked to him since. It's not unusual for a man to text out of the blue, too. Herps just texted me the other day wanting to hang out. What is that shit? Hi, I haven't seen you or talked to you in six months. Want to hang? And this is normal! This is accepted. Sometimes, I'll have deleted someone from my phone, it's been so long since I've heard from them. When they text, you don't know who they are. It's infuriating. I
Tonight, I'm experiencing the feeling of wanting to tell someone off. I texted earlier in the day; no response. Said something else & got a response hours later. The conversation seemed very one-sided. Granted, my views may be screwy due to hormones. I just got the impression that my messages were a hindrance to this person's night. However, I resisted the urge to tell them so. Really, I wanted to send off a mean text. Something really passive-aggressive like, "I feel like I'm bothering you, so I won't. Have a good night". How hard is it to just respond in a timely manner. Shit, just say you don't feel like talking or something. It makes me want to take people's phones and snap them like a Kit Kat bar. Didn't Russell Crowe hit someone with a phone once? Maybe they blew off his text. "Should I gain 50 pounds for this next role?" Next thing you know, someone has a phone upside their head. It's what I feel like doing. I did, however, receive an unsolicited, you are very beautiful text. Can't complain about that. I got another nice text from a friend/former co-worker. Texts aren't all bad. My favorite texts are from my friend, Amy. They're always very random, usually about a celebrity & accompanied by a link or picture. There's a lot of Jon Hamm, sans underwear pics that get swapped. That's when I love texting. As I sit seething and bleeding from my baby maker, I tell myself to stop reading into things. Guys are way different from girls and obviously have a completely different set of texting standards. I'm just going to stop sending out the friendly texts until I get one first. That should curb my anger to some degree. Or the text that I finally just got that said "I miss you". Yes, I'm a jackass that reads into things & overreacts.

Crazy train is up and running

  I was basically single for the past year. I had some very short-lived, kind of relationships, but not anything that lasted. I settled into my own weird routines. For the past two weeks, I've been hanging out exclusively with a guy. I really, really, really like him. I generally spend every night at his apartment. (He has a bed and it's really warm in his room. Plus, his snuggling capabilities are outstanding). I've realized that, at times, I miss this stupid, solitary existence that I've become accustomed to living. My Pittsburgh nights consisted of laying on this creaky bed, watching ghost shows on Huluplus. I haven't wanted him to see the real nighttime Erin, either. How do you introduce curlers, Frownies and Hello Kitty pajamas to a man that you want to keep around? He's seen me without makeup and that's about it. As we all know, I'm horribly insecure. My self-esteem is near negative. I completely forgot about the constant state of insecurity and worry that I experience when I start seeing someone. Now, it doesn't have to be any lengthy relationship. I'm a crazy woman. This shit starts from day one. The more the relationship progresses, the more I freak. "Does he like me?" "Is he thinking about me?". Blah. It's mentally exhausting. I've grown a lot and can put it all aside a lot more than in the past, but the nagging insecurities are still there. I try to keep it in check. It's screwed up all of my past relationships. My three week, bi-polar ex said I needed too much reassurance. He was right. I don't disagree. I used to ask "Do you still like/love me?". What a question to ask. Geez. I buried those questions. Now, I say things like "I really like YOU". That way, I generally get a decent response and the needy, stupid girl is kept under wraps.
  I've been seeing this guy for about two weeks. The other night, we had our first "meh" night. It wasn't that great. We hung out, but I was still wrecked from the flu. He thought I was too shy around his friends. Honestly, I was exhausted, dehydrated and wanting to be in a bed. In my head, he seemed weird and distant that night. We didn't hang out tonight. I worked late and I think he fell asleep. But, you know, that doubt is like a beast in my mind. I convince myself that he's not into me anymore. Plus, I finally told him my age. Just a bad night for my ego. Sometimes, I think I'm more concerned with getting the attention even more that I care about the person. I catch myself all the time, worrying about whether a guy likes me or not when I don't really like them. I have this undying need to be loved and liked by all. It's not exclusive to men. I want everyone to love and accept me. Maybe it's due to being an only child. It's most likely due to my childhood and feeling abandoned by my mom. Regardless, its an annoying feature in my brain that I hate and battle. There's a strong, rebel side that doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks. As far as what I like and dislike, I'm very honest and don't care. Bronson is my favorite movie. BRMC are my favorite band. I watch way too many ghost shows. I don't give a shit what anyone thinks about those things. But, ask whether or not someone likes me personally and I worry obsessively. It's ridiculous. The good thing is that I recognize my faults and try to change them. We'll see where all this goes. I'll just try to keep myself from going insane in the meantime. And check my phone obsessively to see if he's texted. Ugh.

I think I'm falling for the male me

This week has been so great. I've spent all my free time with Terry. I haven't given him a nickname. That should be a clue that it is a good thing. And, the free time hasn't been a lot. I work 40 hours & he works like 58 at his job. The little time we spend together is so fun. We talk, watch Netflix, snuggle and kiss. He loves comedians. We like the same movies. It was when we mixed up our glasses on his nightstand that I realized I'm dating the male me. Quite possibly why I think he's so fantastic. Everyone is a bit of a narcissist, right? Why not be attracted to someone with some of your best qualities?
It is frightening because I've only clicked like this we someone twice before- once with Bob, who I ended up marrying & once with HeWhoShallNotBeNamed. I just love being in his atmosphere. He is so sweet to me and attentive. The best cuddler ever. I'm very attracted to him. In fact, I have been since the moment I met him. He does security at the bookstore on the weekends. We had an instant flirtation. He's so cute. He looks like the bastard son of Jason Stathem and Adam Scott. Plus, there's no mystery to how we feel about each other. We openly gush our feelings to each other. I don't miss having that insecurity and doubt. That's painful. With the last guy I saw, M., it was like an enigma wrapped in a conundrum. Not fun. Basically, this has been a blissful week. He's a wonderful man and I feel so blessed to have met him. We'll see where it goes from here. There's always fear in my world. I've been burned so hard. I just take it day by day and treasure every moment of happiness.

What the shit?

  What the shit? My life is the polar opposite of what it was at this time last year. I'm living in a city that I love, working at a job that is great and I had a wonderful date the other night. WHO AM I? Last year, at this time, I was on the verge of being suicidal (something I'm not proud of) and hating life. Life really took it's toll on me. Flash forward to now- I'm smiling as I drive around a new city. You know the Mary Tyler Moore intro? Of course you don't, you weren't born yet. Anyway, she's walking around the city all excited to be there. So excited that she's pitches her hat in the air. That's how I feel. I don't wear hats or I would pitch mine. After experiencing the worst year of my life, I'm not experiencing one of the best. Granted, its only January. Shut it.
  The other night, I had one of those "night to remember" dates. I'd been really attracting to a guy that I'd seen around work. We casually chatted now and then. Then, he asked what I was doing after work one night. Of course, I wasn't doing anything and proceeded to tell him about moving and not knowing anyone or the city too well, yet. He said "Oh, I live close and anytime you want to hang out, I'd hang out." Dork here, just thought he was being kind. Later that day, he asked for my number and asked if I wanted to have dinner the next night. A guy asked me out on a date! Not me pursuing somebody on the dating website or trying to make one of those fiascoes work. He asked ME out. At first, I wasn't sure it was a date. A big percentage of me thought it might just be a friend thing. We had dinner and then went for coffee. We talked like crazy and had tons of things in common. The night ended way too fast. We were texting later, and decided to hang out more that night and watch a movie. So, he came here to my Downton Abbey-like servant quarters of a bedroom to watch "Moon", a movie we both had seen before and loved. It was so fun. We snuggled under my electric blanket. Its like a frozen tundra in this place. But, just having that playful, romantic chemistry brewing. The "when is he going to kiss me" feeling all night. It was so great. He's a great cuddler. Like top ten cuddler. I was just over the moon about this night. Still am. We're having date number two tonight. That's usually the clincher. Something usually goes horribly awry. I hope it doesn't end with me giving him dead kisses. Dead kisses are when you don't want to kiss someone but do anyway. You're not into it, so your kisses are lifeless and you have dead lips. I don't feel it will be that way, though. I'm pretty excited to see him. Excited enough to touch up my makeup. We all know how lazy I am. If my excitement trumps laziness, it's a rare thing. I'm just so happy with life right now. After last year, I feel I truly deserve it.

I think it's time to hang up the dating hat

  I thought moving to Pittsburgh would give me more options dating-wise. Obviously, I was wrong. The dating gods are telling me to give it up. I've had two (well, technically three) dates this week. I had two with a guy named Ken. No pseudonym, I'm too tired for that. The first one went really well. We met for a drink and talked for a long while. The second date- meh. We had dinner. Honestly, I just wasn't into him. He gave me a kiss at the end of the date and I just gave him dead lips. He hasn't texted since. I think he got the hint. The past two days, I've been texting with this guy I met online. We have so much in common and he's so charismatic and funny. So, of course, when I actually met him, I wasn't attracted to him one bit. If only, because we get along so well. I guess I have to have a good-looking jerk to be happy and in love. He went in for a kiss, too, and I actually recoiled. So, I give up. Really. I do. If a guy is even remotely interested in being monogamous, it's because he can't find anyone else. All the attractive guys just want sex. It's just such an emotional let down. I really, really wish I hadn't had my year long relationship with He Who Shall Not Be Named. It spoiled me in many ways. Number one, just thinking that I can find another relationship. Number two, with an attractive guy who I have things in common with. It was an anomaly. Why can't I accept that? I need to accept that I can either have a relationship with someone I'm not attracted to at all, or sex with people I am attracted to and it leads to nothing else. These are my options. Or get thee to a nunnery. That last one is starting to look spectacular. To make things worse, I came back from the date listening to a podcast where three men were discussing polyamory. One guy was explaining his polyamorous lifestyle. The others would chime in about hating being in a relationship or cheating on their girls. Not the words I needed to hear at that moment. I've lost all faith in dating. I need something to restore my faith. Like when you lose your faith in humanity. Maybe you dealt with shitty people all day and are convinced the world is evil and then you see a woman buy a random stranger's coffee for them because they didn't have enough money. (True story, happened to me Saturday). After tonight, I need a man to buy me a coffee, so to speak. I seriously think I might take down my profile and just give it a rest. My expectations are never going to be met. Not while I'm looking this hard. True love finds you when you least expect it, from what I've experienced. I, however, think true love is as dead as Elvis. (Meaning, 90% of me thinks he's dead, the other 10% is convinced he's living on the second floor in Graceland that they won't let you see on the tour). Geez, this was a rant. No paragraphs or anything. I just don't know why I don't give up. I continue to have this stupid hope. Even now, I think, but I might turn the corner and meet my soul mate. I think I need hit on the head. Why am I such a hopeless romantic who wants it all? Yeah, you'll find that handsome man who wants a relationship. Sure, keep telling yourself that. Jackass.

Period in Pittsburgh

  I'm sure that 99% of women dread their period. I think the only aspect of it that we do like is the indicator that we're not pregnant. If you're a man reading this, you should just stop now. You're neither going to understand nor sympathize. Plus, it's about to get graphic. My periods are particularly brutal due to having fibroids. If you don't know what they are, they're  benign tumors that grow in your uterus. They cause excessive bleeding and can be quite troublesome. I've had two surgeries. The last one didn't help at all. I blame the incompetent doctor in WV. Anyway, "excessive bleeding" is putting it mildly. I say it's like Vietnam in my pants. I usually find myself at the drugstore buying pads and tampons. For the first two days, I have to wear both and usually still get drenched in blood. It looks like I murdered someone with a straight razor when I change my products out. Tonight, I was wearing both and yet still bled out through my underwear, Spanx and tights. And, these fibroids that come out are the size of a fetus. It's so gross. Sometimes I stare into what's come out of me in pure astonishment. It's like the chestburster in Alien except it's in my toilet.
  In addition to the physical element, I also have the emotional. Usually, one will dominate each period. Honestly, I prefer the physical ones. I knew my period was coming this week when I heard Josh Groban at work and got tears in my eyes. I hate the melancholy feelings and the self-pity.
  Every girl has a nickname for their period- Aunt Flo, that time, monthly visitor, red devil, the rag, etc. I think mine should be called Guadalcanal or Black Hawk Down. I'm dreading work tomorrow. I'm already nervous being the newbie and not knowing lots of things. Now, add changing a pad and tampon every hour with a fragile disposition. Isn't this why Carrie annihilated her school at the prom? The only thing I'm looking forward to is my second date. I had a first date tonight. We met at a bar and got along really well. We're going to meet tomorrow for a second. I've given up on M. He's moving and too emotionally distant. He'll soon be distant literally and physically. I almost shut down my dating profile altogether when this date happened. So, we'll see. Luckily, he had no idea I was bleeding profusely all through our date. Not exactly a turn on. I'm in the bathtub now. It looks like I slit my wrists in here. One would think I would shower, but I hate my back getting wet and I think of dragons. Don't ask. It doesn't make any sense. I'm still amazed at how well this date went. He even mentioned being a monogamous person. I think my head spun around like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist when I heard that.  I didn't think men like that existed. He, also, hasn't sent any penis pics. Chalk up two points for this guy. According to the dating site, we're 96% enemies. We're both baffled by this because we got along so well. Very interested in how this second one goes. Let's hope I'm not batshit crazy due to hormones.