Tuesday, August 28, 2012


So, I'm thinking I'm going to try to turn over a new leaf.  Swear a little less, laugh a little more.  Focus more on the good people in my life.  My family and friends are the best.  Not focus so much on the King of Douchetown.

It's been three months since I went on my last road trip so I'm planning another getaway.  Choices, choices. 

Somewhere along the coast where it's a little cool and maybe even drizzly?  Curl up near a window with a good book and a hot cup of booze..er...coffee.   Watch it rain on the ocean.  If it's raining.  Dare to eat in a decent restaurant...alone.  Smile at strangers.  Maybe even wink at them, if I'm in the mood to wink.  Drink some more.  Hmmm...maybe.

Or perhaps I'll try another state.  State of awareness?  Consciousness?  Kidding.  Texas sounds good.  Or at least big.  I've never been there.  But I hear they have cowboys and bars.  The San Antonio River Walk sounds interesting.  I could walk along the river.  The San Antonio River.  Since it's right there.  Right?  And the Alamo is, too.  Remember that?  The Alamo?  Austin's only an hour or so away.  They have celebrities and bars.  And celebrities that own bars. 

Maybe the local mountains.  Cozy up in a cabin with a nice bottle of wine.  Or two.  Watch movies instead of Fox News.  I watched enough Fox News with the Douche King to last a freaking lifetime!  No wonder he's so angry.  Oh,  heaven...I love cabins!  And there's a bar nearby.  No cowboys...but that's okay.

Choices.  I am lucky I have them.

Saturday, August 25, 2012


Pinned Image

Really, this doesn't need much of a story or explanation to go along with it if you've read any of this blog.  You will totally get it! 

If you are a man and are going to enter yourself willingly into a relationship, watch it grow over a number of years, and perhaps even nurture it in your own stupid, lame-ass way, and then decide you have perhaps made a mistake, a very grave mistake, with nothing to support your decision (I love you, I love you not) and think perhaps it should no longer continue because you are just plain retarded, then have the effing decency to handle your shit like a man.  

Sending an email is being a pussy about it.  Period. 

You are a pussy. 

Any questions?     

Friday, August 24, 2012


Walked down the street this morning to the local coffee shop to grab a little morning wake up.  As I was lazily strolling back home, sipping my cup of deliciousness, minding my own damn business for a change, blissfully unaware of the current craziness in my life (which I'd somehow managed to back-burner for a brief moment), I got jolted awake by...

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


Every now and then a song is just what you need to hear over and over and loud and clear.  This is one among many of my archived faves...an oldie but a goodie...and fitting for the current circs.  The list of many is for another day.  But it includes Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill Ya Makes Ya Stronger" and Sara Bareillies' "King of Anything."   I welcome suggestions for this category, too.  I do.  Really.

Random interjection:  A lady I work with asked me today if I had talked to "the jerk."  I said no.  She replied, "Good.  You're a fun person...you're a lot of fun to be around.  You need to find that person you think is a lot of fun to be around.  He's out there.  Go find him."  Hmmm, I think I will.       

 Go ahead...sing along.  You know the words!  Everyone does. 

Nancy Sinatra

You keep saying you've got something for me.
Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'
and now someone else is gettin' all your best.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.  Yeah...

You keep lying when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be a changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin'
and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burned.  Ha!
I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah
and what he knows you ain't had time to learn.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boot are gonna walk all over you.

Are you ready boots?  Start walkin'!

Sunday, August 19, 2012


I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I am single.  Starting over.  Party of one.  Just me.  No, no one will be joining me this evening.  Or tomorrow.  But maybe in a while. 

So, what to do about it?  I got my hair cut and colored.  I've already spent too much money on clothes, but now I'm starting to put actual outfits together.  I'm working out again.  I'm in therapy to improve me.  Working on my outlook.  Taking some classes and taking up new hobbies.  Trying to figure out what really makes ME happy.   And trying to figure out what I want in a man.  Because I do enjoy the company of...the right man. 

Wonder if he's out there...maybe looking for me.   

Saturday, August 18, 2012


In case you've never heard of it, SUP is short for Stand Up Paddling.  It's the new craze where you go out on the water on a board somewhat similar to a surfboard and you stand up on it and maneuver yourself around using a paddle.  It's wider than a surfboard and constructed a little differently.  You're given a long pole with a paddle on the end of it, and about two minutes of instruction, and off you go.  And I tried it today for the first time.  What a great experience.  I liked it so much I'm considering buying a board of my own so I can go whenever I want to, weather and time permitting.

I was a little timid at first.  When you first stand up on the board, it seems so unsteady and unnatural.  But within a matter of about 5-10 minutes, you begin to get a little more used to it and a bit more comfortable standing and paddling your way around the harbor.  I guess you get your sea legs.

It was a very warm day.  Of course I put sunscreen on, but realized in no time that I put the NON-sport type on my forehead and the crap was running into my eyes like nobody's business.  And I just had to suffer through the burn because I had nothing to wipe the stuff out of my eyes.  Next time I think I'll just wear a hat. 

Anyway, it's a good workout.  Good for your arms, legs and core.  I managed to stay topside.  My friend, on the other hand, forgot for a moment that he was on a board on the water, and turned his head a little too quickly to see where I was.  That movement was just enough to catch him off guard, throw him off balance, and he took a slow motion spill into the harbor.  I actually thought he was just joking around.  But he says no. 

We finished the day at our local brewery for some cold beer and munchies.  We had a great time and will definitely do it again! 

(I wonder how this old body is going to feel when I try to get out of bed tomorrow morning.)

Thursday, August 16, 2012


Okay, this is a serious question.  No, seriously.  It is.  What the hell is a fucking SHARE TOY?  Bueller?  Bueller?  Anyone?

Yeah, see?  You have no idea, do you?  No, you don't.  It's not in Webster's Dictionary.  It's not in the Urban Dictionary.  It's not even part of anyone's flippin' vocabulary!  Except his.  It was bad enough when he said it in conversations with me.  But it was bloody embarrassing when he used that term in public.  Made me cringe!  Oh God, I was fearful he'd say it in front of my father.  But since he rarely spent time with my family, there was little-to-no chance that my dad would ever hear that inane meaningless utterance come from a grown man's mouth.  Share toy.  Really.  Sounds obscene.

Say it to yourself right now.  Go ahead, say it.  Share toy.  No one's listening.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Just say it out loud and ask yourself, "What image does that conjure?"   Well, I'll tell ya, it has nothing to do with some rubbery plastic device you might see in a porn movie (if you were to watch them...hey, I'm not judging).  It sounds like it could be.  Maybe.  I guess.  But it's not.

I've come to learn what he means by that expression.  I'll try to explain.  Say we're in a restaurant ("we're in a restaurant") and we order appetizers that we are going to split.  Yep...share toy.  Or a delicious dessert that is just too big for one of us after a big meal.  You got it.  Share toy.  God, how ridiculous and retarded.  And just plain stupid and wrong. 

Share toy. 

He almost ruined a trip to Kauai for me by using that term while engaged in conversation with a couple we did not know but accidentally bumped into as they were coming out of a restaurant that we were going in to.  He asked them about the menu.  They told us that the food was good and all served tapas-style.  Yes, little appetizers.  Uh oh, you already see where this is headed, don't you?  Down that dangerous road called 'humiliation.'  God, I prayed for him not to say it.   I prayed and begged in silence.  But...wait for it...wait for it..."Oh, share toys."   He said it like it was the most natural response in the world.  Oh, horror of horrors!  I almost died on the spot.  The couple just looked at him with blank expressions.  I could almost hear the man thinking, "What the fuck did he just say?"  They had NO idea what the hell he was talking about.  And they turned and walked away without another word.  Well, really, what could they have said to that?  Really.  Share toys?

I always figured maybe he got the term from some stupid little blonde cute-as-a-button girlfriend that may have said it to him in a little squeeky Mini-Mouse'ish voice.  "Ooooh, look..a share toy...heeheehee."  And she was probably just so damned hot that it didn't matter what blather she spewed, he would take it and accept it as real.  Because he has a penis.

A man might accept a woman saying it...because of said dick...but no man in the history of the world would ever actually repeat it.  Out loud.  To another human being.  No.  Never!  NEVER!!!    

I don't make this shit up.

You're still here?  It's over.  Go home.  Go.