Tuesday, February 28, 2006

How Cool is That?

My Dad was actually born in a barn. His Mom was out in the field picking cotton when she went into labor, and the barn was the closest indoor space.

He leaves doors open intentionally hoping that people will ask, "Were you born in a barn?" to which he gets to joyfully answer, "Why yes, yes I was."

Saturday, February 25, 2006

The Things People Will Do

About a year ago I ran into an old friend at Target. She wasn't the world's best friend, that is for sure. Every woman I know has had one of these friends in their life - A great friend when they don't have a certain someone special in their life, a horrible friend when they do.

She was also a bit overweight. We were about the same size back then-past the whole chubby point but not quite on our way to using one of those motorized carts at Walmart. When the weight started to melt off me our friendship melted right along with it.

Half Italian and Half Mexican she had really good genetics going on in the face department. Beautiful skin tone with incredible cheek bones and green eyes, she had the face of a model. Her body didn't match, and she did everything to try and rectify that.

Everything except exercise and eat healthy, which is what I did. She tried every pill, diet, lose weight fast scam. It would work for awhile, but most humans cannot live like that.

I was really shocked when I ran into her. She was thin. Like Olsen twin thin. Her hair was thin, and she just looked sickly. The words "You look great!" came out of my mouth even though I was secretly scared that she was sick or had cancer. Her wonderful complexion was pale and her skin sagged on her face like she was in her late 40's.

"Thanks!" was all she offered. I figured if she was sick she just didn't feel like talking about it. We shared the awkward conversation that people have who were once friends but grew apart years and years before, and that was it.

My SIL has kept in contact with her over the years, and I told her I saw her. "She's really thin, isn't she?" my SIL asked. "Yes, yes she is," I said.

"You know she had Gastric Bypass, right?" my SIL asked.

Gastric bypass surgery? I thought you had to be over 100 pounds to even be approved for that. I thought there was a long screening process, and knowing her, she would never make it that long.

So the SIL goes into the story. She went to Mexico to get it. She even walked into the operating room and got on the operating table herself. How desperate do you have to be to do something like this?

I guess she tried gaining weight so that she would qualify here in the US. She had to lose like 80 pounds, and needed to get to a 100. Her doctor told her to just gain the weight. What the hell is that, FFS?

Then she found out that she had to do all these psychological tests before her insurance would approve her. This was no good. Her Mom had "connections" in Mexico and knew a really good doctor.

Her Mom is a post all in itself, as she did not like having a fat daughter at all.

So she went and got it done in substandard conditions in Mexico. By some miracle she made it through and didn't have to many complications.

She lost the weight rapidly along with her hair and her looks. I'm not kidding when I say it aged her at least 10 to 15 years.

Fast forward to a week ago. There she was, standing in line at the same Target.

Except that she was bigger. Not bigger in relation to how skinny she was before, but bigger in relation to how big she was before.

She had Gastric Bypass Surgery and 2 years later was bigger then before she had it.

We had our awkward old friends conversation. I was just in shock. Along with what probably most people think, I thought you had that, you can't really eat a lot anymore, and you are just skinny forever.

*Buzz* Wrong Answer.

I guess you can eventually stretch your stomach back out and gain the weight back.

So these are people that risk their lives, re-route their innards, and suffer all this pain inevitably still have to eat right and exercise. They lose their hair from vitamin deficiencies and have sagging skin.

I don't get it....I can see someone that is in danger and needs to lose weight rapidly to live. But someone that just wants to be thin?

Someone looking for the next magical pill, diet, solution?

That easy, quick fix? Easy and quick are not two words to describe this.

It is sad really. As a former overweight person I can understand to some degree, but as someone who just buckled down and did the work necessary to achieve it I can't imagine risking my own life for a more pleasing appearance.

Friday, February 24, 2006


The twins arrived Tuesday, February 21st. Emma weighed in at 5 lbs 1 oz, and Sarah at 5 lbs. 8 oz.

Blogging might be at a stand still over here at FFS because poor Sarah has some medical problems. She drank some fluid which happens sometimes to the second twin delivered. The poor thing is having a hard time breathing and is on oxygen.

She is not out of the woods yet, but doing better today. Please keep little Sarah in your prayers/thoughts.

Monday, February 20, 2006

A Dog's Life

So I might be getting a dog again in about 6 weeks.

A friend's dog had puppies last Thursday, and now I am probably taking one of them.

My God, what am I thinking? I already have two cats. Just what I need, another animal.

But I love dogs. I mean, I really, really love dogs. I'm a dog person that just happens to have two cats.

It seems that all my animals I have had in my lifetime have picked me, including the cats.

I have had a dog since birth. My beloved yellow lab Ladybug was put to sleep a few years ago, and in a way cats are a lot easier for someone like me. Between working and commuting I'm gone a lot.

That evil voice in my head keeps telling me how Ladybug did just fine. Ladybug loved doggy-daycare. Ladybug lived better then most people's children.

It is actually a good idea for a single woman to have a big dog that will rip someone's head off if they break in the house, right? Yeah, that's another reason why I like having a dog.

That and dogs just love me. It can be the meanest, nastiest dog in the world, and it'll jump in my lap and lick me. I have that dog-and-small-children gene. They just instinctively trust me.

I mean, what's the big deal, it's only a dog, right? I always think of my very first dog Sam when people say that.

It's all my parental units fault. My Dad brought home my first dog when my mom was about 7 months pregnant with me. Sam, The Best! Dog! Ever!, was left for dead near the expressway, and my Dad came upon the small, freezing puppy on his way home from work.

She was a mixed terrier, white wired hair and fox from what my Dad could tell. He didn't have the heart to let the little puppy die, so he brought her home.

My Mother was not amused, pleased, or happy. My Father was given his orders to find a home for that damn dog ASAP.

Then I decided to make an early appearance into this world, and finding a home for the dog became the second priority. I was a preemie so I was in the hospital for an extra week, and during this time Sam managed to learn how to mind her manners and become potty trained.

Sam was here to stay. From that very first night I was home she slept under my crib. When I was old enough to move to a big girl bed she graduated from under the bed to sleeping right next to me.

Where ever I went the dog went. She walked me to the bus stop every morning, and was sitting there when I got off the bus in the afternoon. My Sister and Brother don't have such fond memories of Sam, as if they raised their voice to me all bets were off on their ankles were in big trouble.

She was my dog, for sure. When I was around 6 I was playing in my front yard and a Great Dane decided that I'd be a tasty little treat. Sam saved me. That 11 pound Terrier took down that 100 and some pound Great Dane like it was a rag doll. With the exception of a scar on my side, I came out unscathed. To this day my Mom says I would have died that day if it weren't for Sam.

So as I grew up Sam was there through all my changes, turmoils, problems, and happy days. She listened to my secrets and licked away my tears.

By the time I reached high school Sam wasn't as agile as she used to be. I'd have to help her up on the bed at night, and down in the morning. She patiently waited for me on the front porch instead of the bus stop now, but she was always there, watching for me to come home.

When I was a senior in high school Sam really began to slow down. Shortly after my 18th birthday we noticed a tumor growing on her side. We took her to the vet, who informed us that she had cancer. The most humane thing to do would be to put her to sleep. She wasn't in pain yet, so we could think about it for awhile.

We took Sam home and I was an absolute basket case. This was my dog!

So a couple of days later I come home from school and Sam is not on the porch. I run into the house screaming for my dog. My Mom, with her tear streaked face just hugs me and tells me that Sam is at the vet.

It seems that morning after I went to school Sam couldn't get up and began to whimper. My Mom had found her in the laundry room, and she was bleeding.

It was time.

My Mom took her to the vet, and the vet had agreed to wait to put her to sleep until I got home from school in case I wanted to say goodbye. I drove there in silent disbelief, as I was sure she'd be ok once I got there.

The vet warned me that she was heavily medicated and had lost a lot of blood. We went into the room and Sam layed there motionless, and I almost thought they had already put her to sleep and were humoring me.

I bent down and kissed her head and petted her for the last time. As tears rolled down my cheeks she opened her eyes and licked them away for the last time. Her little tail did a feeble wag, and the vet put her out of her misery as my Mom and I held her gingerly.

And she was gone. We burried her under her favorite tree. The next few weeks are a blur, and I'm quite sure I cried more tears in those two weeks then the rest of my life put together.

Only a dog? Sam was my best friend, my sister. She taught me about responsibility and unconditional love and loyalty. She taught me that you always protect your own, no matter what the cost to you.

Sam wasn't only a dog, Ladybug after her wasn't only a dog, and I'm sure this new puppy that will probably bound into my life won't be only a dog either.

They are family.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

No Parking on the Dance Floor

So the lovely and talented Madonna had to have surgery for a hernia after her recent Grammy performance.

Getting old is a bitch, isn't it Madge or Edith or Gertrude or whatever the hell you are calling yourself now.

Madonna is one of the most annoying human beings on the planet. Now I didn't always feel this way. She first became famous when I was in 5th grade I think. Oh how I thought she was the shiznit.

I tied my hair up with rags. In junior high I saved and saved and bought some of those Madonna clothes from our local Merrygoround store. My Dad promptly threw them away the first time he saw me wear them.

I stayed with Madonna until around the whole infactuation with Marilyn Monroe thing. It was getting a bit much. Sure, it is good to change your image and she would look pretty ridiculous in ratted out hair and spandex now, but give me a freakin' break.

Actually, she would probably look less ridiculous in that then the damn leotard she wore at the Grammy's....

Now I still tolerated her to a point, but the whole cult Kabbalah thing and how she adopted Brittany Spears as her "little sister" (avoid and deny-that would be more like DAUGHTER) just pushed me over the edge.

Oh, and how she decided that we should all stop striving for material things.


When she sells off all her houses and material things and gives them to charity, I'll think about it, ummmkay?

Have I ever told you how much I hate it when celebrities decide to tell me what is good for me or how I should act? I mean, Madonna has always been a media whore, but she full well admitted it back in the day. That's probably why I liked her so much. This new holier then though Madonna is just. too. much.

So even though it is just a bit Evile and wrong, I chuckled a bit when I read about her hernia after the Grammy performance.

Maybe if I tie a red string around my wrist and send the powers that be a bunch of money Karma won't come back and bite me in the ass for this one.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Suppressed V-Day Memories

So last night I snuck into my brother's house to drop off Valentine's for my two nieces and for A & B, the twins that should be making an appearance any day now.

A & B are stuck with those names I think, as that is what they are called on the ultrasound for now. Sarah and Emma shall be their real names, but I think I'm going to call them A & B forever.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I broke into his house so that they would find their presents in the morning. On the table was a box all decorated up with hearts.

I don't know if you did this where you grew up, but we had a yearly contest on who could make the best Valentine's Day box. You went to school, and kids delivered their Valentines to your box. There was a small party, and you would open up all the cheesy Valentines and eat some pink cupcake that the room mother made.

I've always been competitive. Once in 2nd grade when we lost a softball game my hippie type Mother told me, "Well you are just playing to have fun, it's ok." I promptly corrected her and said, "NO I'm not, I'm playing to WIN."

I am my Father's child. Anyway, in 4th grade I decided I was going to win that damn competition. This was a stressful enough time for kids. I mean, you had to deliver these Valentines to other kids, and you had to make sure that you didn't give any embarrassing ones that said "Be Mine" or something like that to the cute boy.

But I had my mind set. I diligently worked on my Valentine's day box for a week. Snoopy was the theme, and I fashioned a shoebox into a Snoopy's dog house. I even got a small stuffed Snoopy dog and Woodstock, which I glued to the top. I cut out a little heart chain to go around the hugging Snoopy and Woodstock.

It was a fucking masterpiece I tell you. Brilliant. My Mom drove me to school that day as I was afraid it would get messed up on the bus.

I looked around at the other kid's boxes, assured of my win. It was in the bag.

Then she walked in. Her name was Sheri, and so help me God if I remembered her last name I would put it here so if she Googled herself she would find this entry.

Sheri's box was a jack-in-the-box. It was a working jack-in-the-box, made from scratch. You cranked the handle, and the little doll came out with his mouth open and you put the Valentine in there.

Fucking bitch. There is no way in hell she made that by herself. This was like 1980 or something, and back in the day the parental units made you make your own damn stuff.

There was no way she made that. No way in hell.

So Sheri got to be the Valentine's Day Princess. Sheri got the award.

Fucking Sheri. It still pisses me off to this day. I never even got a chance to beat her because the cheating bitch moved away after 4th grade.

My teacher gave me a dose of sugar to help the medicine go down though. As I got my runner-up prize, she told me, "I would have voted for yours because you made it yourself."

Take that fucking Sheri. The teacher liked mine the best.

God I need therapy....

Be Mine?

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I'm expecting my usual Valentine's Day Extravaganza tonight since I have to work.

I actually celebrated Valentine's Day this weekend with someone that might be special down the road. This is my first V-Day without The Mystery Man in a looooooong time.

I had quite forgotten just how hard they try when they haven't "gotten" you yet.

It's quite nice, actually. Maybe my Dad is right. I'm so sweet I've turned rotten.

I got an extra V-Day gift that I wasn't expecting. My counter went past 50,000! I didn't install it until I had my blog for about a year so it is way more then that, but it is nice to reach that point, even though I was a bad blogger and had to deal with personal junk for a couple of months.

So thank you for the unexpected V-Day gift, dear readers. I truly appreciate it!

Monday, February 13, 2006


So I've tried really hard to be a 'shroom and be in the dark and all of that, but I just can't take it anymore.

I don't like talking politics here. I don't like talking about the common new items that float around the blog-o-sphere.

But I've had it.

It just really, really pisses me off that the Evile American Media Empire isn't standing up for free speech, which they scream, kick and cry over any other time.

I wanted to see those damn cartoons. I wanted to see why a bunch of extremists were willing to condemn a whole damn country because of what one private paper printed. I wanted to see why people were dying over some ink and paper.

None of the major papers in America printed them. They said "describing" them was good enough because they were so offensive.

Off to the Internet I go, because the Evile American Media Empire can no longer block out what they think is not good for us.

Before you think I am some right-winged nut job condemning the liberal media, think again. I'm really someone smack dab in the middle of the political spectrum, kind of a Clintonite. Bill that is, not Hillary.

They were bad. To the average person who doesn't know a lot about Islam they may think what is the big deal, but if you know anything about Islam you can see how they could offend so many.

But to cause the violence that is happening over in the middle east? To demand the head of the cartoonist? To condemn a whole country?

That is just crazy, for sure, and the act of extremists, not an entire religion. Even though they are offensive, I still think the Evile American Media Empire should have printed them.

I've seen things far more offensive things against the Christian and Jewish religion printed up in those same papers. I guess if you don't have a small group of bomb wielding individuals in your religion it is ok to offend you.

This is definitely not the only problem I have with the Evile American Media Empire. They have been a pain in my ass ever since I started working for an American Automobile company 14 years ago.

You see, the Evile American Media Empire doesn't like big American Corporations. They hate them in fact, and will stop at nothing to destroy them.

Here's a small example of what I'm talking about. About 6 months ago F-O-R-D recalled 20,000 cars for a high mileage non safety issue. It was something to do with a rattle in the underbody after 100,000 miles. Nothing that could affect the safety of the passengers, but could get annoying if it happened.

It was all over CNN, the Chicago Tribune, The New York Times, the 10 o'clock news... Anywhere you turned that damn F-O-R-D was recalling cars again! Not only were they RECALLING 20,000 CARS, but it was because something was terribly wrong with the underbody!!!

The same day, SAME DAY, Toyota announced they were recalling a million cars for the possibility that the brakes might fail. A MILLION CARS BECAUSE THE BRAKES MIGHT FAIL. Now I knew this because there is this site that is available to automobile manufacturer's Intranet that reports on issues with different vehicle concerns.

That is the only reason why I knew it. Because guess what dear readers? There wasn't a fucking mention of it anywhere in the Evile American Media Empire.

Not a fucking peep.

I searched the Internet looking for anything pertaining to this. I searched high and low and the only time I found anything was on some blogs. Nothing on any of the Evile American Media Empire's sites.


Now why they hate us is beyond me. Liberals cry for Unionization. Liberals cry for the rights of workers. Yet companies like Toyota only have one Unionized plant, and that's just because it's in California.

Basically the American companies do what the Evile American Media Empire wants a company to do. They are unionized. They pay their people good and offer them great benefits.

All Toyota does is pay people less, give them less benefits, and take their money straight back to Japan.

The Evile American Media Empire supports this for some reason. If you look at things like warranty on cars there really is no difference between Toyota and the American made cars. None. There is no big spike showing how much better the quality is from foreign manufacturers.

But it's all about perception. The Evile American Media Empire makes people believe that American made cars are inferior because that is what they want you to believe.

How this rant got totally off subject is beyond me. I suppose I do have major issues when it comes to the Evile American Media Empire, especially since they continually assault my future with their biased reporting. I guess I have a reason to be Really! Pissed! Off!

As my Grandma always said, there is always that silver lining in the cloud. With the advent of the Internet and how easily information can be passed from person to person, the Evile American Empire can no longer report what they think is good for us, like good little neo-Nazi liberals.

They can no longer control what information gets out to us, what we see, or influence us to their way of thinking. Well hell, maybe I am condemning the liberal media, and I'm not even a neo-Nazi Republican. Now that's saying something, eh?

All hail the blog-o-sphere.

Now and Then

About 10 years ago, before the Mothership got ran through the ringer by the PC police, things were handled a bit differently at work. Take a scenario like this:

You come into work, and your counter part on the other shift has totally messed things up, and just freakin' left it like that with no explanation. The conversation that would follow would have went something like this:

Employee #1: What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you enjoy having your head up your ass? You totally screwed me! Dickhead!

Employee #2: Oh sooooory if everyone can't be fucking perfect like you. We'd all looooooove to be that perfect, but you got a fucking patent on it or something.

Employee #1: Fuck you. You know you left me fucked up. God Damn couldn't you have at least emailed me what was going on?

Employee #2: Yeah, yeah, I suppose so. My kid was sick and I ran out of here. You playin' softball Sunday? I'll buy ya a beer.

Employee #1: Yep. A beer will help matters a little. Your kid ok?

So after yelling at each other everything would be settled over a frosty one. Aggression over, game over, back to work as usual.

Now once the PC Police get involved, things are much different. Yelling is a no-no that might get you fired. Even sounding perturbed might get you written up. Here is the same conversation, PC style:

Employee #1 (through gritted teeth): I had a really hard time starting up today.

Employee #2 (looking innocent): Really?

Employee #1: Yes, you left the system down and didn't tell anyone.

Employee #2: I didn't realize that.

Employee #1: Now there is no way in..... You couldn't have...... You..... *sighs* Could you please email me next time this happens?

Employee #2: If I realize it I will.

There is no beer on Sunday, because people are afraid to play softball now because you might utter a bad word when you are struck out and offend someone and since it is technically a company function you can still be disciplined for offending someone, even though you aren't at work.

There is no accountability for anything, so why would anyone admit when they fucked up? Even the bosses are afraid to say anything when you mess up, they just try and "coach" you. So forget trying to resolve any issues with someone that is the same level as you. They'll just deny, deny, deny.

You'll be burning that they won't admit it, they'll be burning that you pointed it out, and there is no resolution in site. It kind of sheds some light on the whole work-place violence phenom, now doesn't it?

I wonder how long it's been PC over at the Post Office?

Thursday, February 09, 2006

From the Mailbag

So every once in awhile people use that "Email Me" link over on the side of my page. Besides my Stat Counter, it is my best judge as to when a post really resignates with people.

Sometimes it is people just wanting more clarification on a post I wrote, praise for my blog, or sympathy when I get a bad review.

Most of the people that send me email are not really blog reading type people, and they come here from search engines. I get a kick out of the fact that maybe I turned some virgins on to blogs.

Here are some of the top questions from my E-Mailbag for your viewing pleasure:
I took a look at your before and after picture and you look totally different. How long ago did you lose all that weight?

It was about 13 or so years ago. I started losing somewhere around 19 and finished at about 21.
Did you get Gastric Bypass?

You really wouldn't believe how many times I have got that question since I posted that damn fat picture. No, no and NO! I don't think the gastric bypass surgery we all know and love was even around back then. Trust me I could rant about that surgery forever, but I'll save that for it's own post. So after I tell them No, no and NO! they usually come back with:
Well then how did you lose all that weight?

I consumed less calories my body burned. This is really the only way a human being can lose weight. Forget Atkins, South Beach, Three Day hot dog diet, it is a scientific fact. Now some of those diets may help you consume less calories then your body burns, but that is still what you are doing.

Back in the day when I was losing weight I counted calories and ate whatever gave me the most bang for my calorie buck. A good 70% of the time I'll get this question next:
So what do you eat in a normal day?

My body burns on average around 2100 calories a day. This is high for a woman, and it isn't because I was blessed with a high metabolism. If I was I never would have been a tank ass. It is because I incorporated exercise into my life, and I really think that is the key to why I've kept it off all these years.

Now I haven't been perfect for 13 or so years. I've had times where I gained as much as 20 pounds back, but when the old pants got tight my ass got back on that treadmill real quick like.
The Circle of Soul Mates confuse me because you just use initials for their names.

This is totally to protect the innocent. You can get a brief description of each of them Here.
I just started reading your blog and need to catch up. What are some of your favorite posts?

Oh lord I have hundreds of posts here. If I had to pick some of my favorites they would have to be:

When my friends and I got arrested for TP'ing someone's house

The Lemon post

My critique of a wedding proposal

Some of my Father's words of wisdom

Why I can't get no satisfaction

Sweetest Day IS a real holiday

My ugly duckling to swan transformation

My recap of a Halloween party

My rant on Bratz Dolls

The Ghost of Boyfriend's past series

Why I am permanently banned from Bingo

The most touching Christmas present ever

Well there's some of them. I could probably go on but I'm (and probably you) are getting bored.
Thanks a hell of a lot for giving away the fat girl pose secret. I'll never get another Internet date again!

This was sent in from Nikki, who doesn't have a blog and always comments in my email. She first came to this blog while searching for scary bratz dolls and has read it ever since. I so wish she would start her own blog......

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

The Proof is in the Pudding

So a couple of weeks back my best friend R sent me a link to one of those high school reunion type sites. The "It" girl from high school had her own little page.

This It girl wasn't exactly nice, and we couldn't stand her in high school. She was beautiful, skinny, and very, very mean. Cheerleader, homecoming queen, and every other high school cliche you can think of for the most popular girl in school.

"She's fat now," I told R. By looking at her page you couldn't really tell, because every single photo of her was cut at the neck. Some included the random shoulder action, but for the most part it was all head shots.

"How the hell can you tell that? I mean, her face looks a little fuller, but not bad." R said.

Fat girl pose people. It's all about the fat girl pose.

Now I can talk about this as a real! live! former fat girl. I even posted my fat picture somewhere in the December Archives. It's kind of like how only homosexuals can say the F word (not my F word, their F word). It's allowed then and only then.

You see, when you have the dreaded double chin you either point your chin down or up when getting your picture taken. Pictures posted on the Net don't ever go below the shoulder area.

Now the one picture of her that had some shoulder action revealed no collar bone-another sure sign of a fat girl picture. I know this because the first time I saw my collar bone it was one of the most exciting moments in my life. A whole bunch of them had her posing with her hand under her chin, one of the best ways to disguise that pesky double chin.

I was proved right during our girl's night out last weekend (which went swimmingly well by the way).

We ran into her at the club. Even though I was expecting the weight gain, my jaw hit the proverbial floor along with my friends.

You are probably thinking that my friends and I are pretty insensitive and mean, and you'd probably be right in a way. I suppose it is never right to get some kind of satisfaction in seeing another knocked off their pedestal.

It may not be right, but if I'm going to be honest it is the truth. Seeing people like her kind of throw you back to those high school days, and mine weren't pretty.

Oh yeah I had a ton of friends and was pretty popular actually. I was also fat with glasses, which is never a pleasant situation for a 16 year old. It girl never picked on me personally, but I saw her rip other people to shreds on many occasions.

So you see this person that just seemed so perfect back then. This person that seemed to have everything you were lacking, and now she's a tank ass twice divorced woman with three kids from three different men.

I think you wouldn't be part of the human race if you didn't feel some sort of satisfaction over that.

Then something real surprising happened. I started to feel sorry for her.

Sorry for the girl that put soap and deodorant on the "not so clean" girl's desk in homeroom. Sorry for the girl that threw gum in the "shy girl's" hair on a daily basis. Sorry for the girl that had members of the football team kick "the nerdy guy" out of a party one time, and humiliated him beyond belief.

They say Karmas a bitch, but my God does her life suck. She stood before us a humbled and broken woman. In truth, how many of us can be held responsible for how we were when we were in high school? Our still developing personalities were really a reflection of how we were raised at that point. Really until you hit the 20's what you are and what you will become are two totally different people, especially if you are the type to grow as a person. At least that's my theory.

So it is always a little sad to see those that peaked in high school. About the only thing the It girl could talk about was high school. Remember when punctuated the beginning of every sentence, and if we started to talk about current things or even things after high school she steered the conversation back to that time.

It kind of makes you wonder if anyone ever told her she was smart, or funny, or nice. I'm betting on not, as those things wouldn't exactly pertain to her. She was probably only told that she was pretty or sexy or beautiful. Maybe those other descriptions would have fit if things in her life were less focused on looks and more on personality.

So what happens when the looks are gone? What is left for these people besides a bunch of memories and a bunch of people thinking you got exactly what you deserved?

It's just plain sad.

What the Hell?

So I normally try and stay far, far away from any of the goings on of the rich and famous. Usually I find it rather boring.

Then on my damn Yahoo News page I see this link, and I just had to click it.

It seems Ms. Spears/Federline/Whatever has been photographed driving with her 4 month old son on her lap.

Her explanation? It's the aggressive Paparrazi's fault.
"I instinctively took measures to get my baby and me out of harm's way, but the paparazzi continued to stalk us," she said. "I love my child and would do anything to protect him."

I'm sure if any Mother was being chased or whatever by lunatics the first thing they would instinctively do is unbuckle their kid from the safety of their car seat and put them in their lap.

This breaks new ground in the stupid category, doesn't it?

Monday, February 06, 2006

Life's Not Fair

I think that was one of my Mom's favorite sayings, and still is.

"But Moooooooom, everyone else in 7th grade is wearing make-up!" my 12 year old self said to her. "Life's not fair, now is it?" was her response.

"But Mooooooom, everyone else is staying in a hotel after the Poison concert in Wisconsin!" my 16 year old self said to her. "Life's not fair, get used to it," she said.

The dreaded "Life's Not Fair" speech always signaled End of Conversation. She was not going to explain it to you anymore. She was not going to humor you. She was not going to compromise with you. Done. Game over. You lose.

I've learned over my 35 years on this Earth that sometimes Life's Not Fair really sucks. Sometimes Life's Not Fair kicks you in the ass, and sometimes it benefits you.

One of the times I reaped the rewards of Life's Not Fair still bothers me. I was promptly reminded about it until the other day, when I saw my Life's Not Fair moment again for the first time in a long time.

She works with me, and is a bonafide Hard Worker. We'll just call her HW for short, k? Anyway, about seven years ago HW and I were up for the same job at work. She was about 10 years older then me and had way more seniority.

HW also had it rough in the life department. She had signed on to the whole marry Prince Charming at 18 and live happily ever after and in return got a Prince that was drunk all the time and didn't like to work. Even though he didn't really ever have a job once she started making real money she still had to hire a babysitter to watch their kids, because he was just to busy "looking" for a job to take care of them while she was at work.

He's a real winner, let me tell you. All these life stresses + the years of hard work on an assembly line really took their toll on her. I'd guess she was about 38 at the time, but she could have passed for my Grandmother. With thinning, mousy brown hair with streaks of grey and the body of someone who took care of everyone else but herself, she epitomized the phrase "Let herself go".

She was also very respected at work. HW worked her ass off. She did whatever she was told, and did it well. When I first started working there I remember wanting to have that kind of respect, as not many women there commanded that.

The job we were both up for was a real treat. You would get to go away for two months, off the line. It was working with prototypes, and people that got this job usually didn't return to the line.

Even then I knew a lot of women wouldn't be chosen. Work was still a big old boy's club back then, but I knew that they'd have to take at least one. There were 8 positions available, and I signed up even though I didn't think I had a chance in hell of getting it.

It came down to about 18 of us, and we had to interview for the position. HW and I were the only females on the list. We also were about neck and neck when in came to how many jobs we could do, and how much of the car we could build.

During lunch one of my co-workers told me I better start packing my bags. "Yeah, right," I told him. "She's got me on seniority. I'll never get it."

"Are you really that naive?" he asked me. "Come on kiddo, you got a great beat and can dance to it. If you were a nearing middle-aged man, who would you want to live next to in a hotel for 2 months?"

I guess that would be me because I got the job. How they pulled that one off in a unionized environment is still a mystery to me. I think they explained it as I had more education since I had graduated from college.

Now yes, education is important, but it didn't really seem to be a factor when it came to the other candidates. I knew some of the men around my age that applied and had college degrees and it didn't knock their opponents out of the competition.

It became very clear once the jobs were posted that several of the powers that be had underlying intentions with their selections. Many a middle-aged man came up to me at work to inform me that they had put their neck out for me. THEY had gotten me that job.

I'm sure they didn't like it when I didn't show them what they probably considered the proper form of gratitude. I guess sometimes Life's Not Fair, eh?

So I got off the line and never went back. Yes, I did go back to school and got another degree that got me my current job. Yes, I did work my ass off and had a great work history behind me.

But if I had never gotten that first break.....I don't know. It enabled me to show the powers that be that I really had a brain and that maybe I was more useful in other capacities then just hard labor.

HW never complained, even though it was blatantly unfair. I would have pitched a fit if I was her in that situation. You would have heard my screams all the way up to the head of the union if necessary.

But she never said a word. I think sometimes when people have had so many "Life's Not Fair" dealt to them that "Life's Not Fair" is just expected.

I really did feel bad when I first found out. I suppose I could have turned it down, but quite frankly I am just not that big of a person. The toll that kind of hard work takes on you had me looking out for #1, and if that makes me a bad person so be it. I don't know many humans on the face of the Earth that would have said, "You know what, I think I just got this because I'm a blonde with long legs. I think I'll just pass and continue to work my ass off until I'm a crippled old woman that has to pop Vicadin just to function."

So obviously even though I am not that big of a person this little episode in my life still causes twinges of guilt. HW recently signed up for an easier job on the afternoon shift and got it. I ran into her the other day at work, and it just brought it all back again.

I suppose it signals better times for women, considering she got it instead of some boss's girlfriend or some hot young thing that a boss was trying to make their girlfriend. HW has always been nice to me, and when I got the job she even congratulated me and said I deserved it.

So where am I going with all of this? I really wonder if Life is truly Not Fair. She could have complained. She could have raised 7 kinds of hell and probably got the job.

But she didn't.

Because she was used to Life's Not Fair.

I'm sorry Mom, but even though you are everything I ever hope to be in this world I am never buying into Life's Not Fair, and I never have.

Back in the day I just put my make-up on when I got to school, and that sleep over my friend had when I was 16? I was really partying it up in a hotel in Wisconsin after the Poison concert.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

You Like Me! You Really Like Me!

So, I've gotten quite a few emails telling me that the people that run I talk 2 Much did a pretty scathing review of my blog.

I read the entry with R, one of the few real life people that know about my blog. We got a real kick out of it. While we have our own theories about some of the people there, I'll keep them to myself as they didn't ask for a review of their review. Opinions are like assholes, and everybody has one.

Bottom line, dear readers trying to stroke my ego through email, you don't go swimming with sharks without expecting to get bit. I appreciate the TLC though. R about choked when she read the part about how I remind her of a hard beer-in-a-can woman.

Highly entertaining, as most of their site is. They give great advice on design, and I've found some blogs from there I really like. Some of them were tore apart pretty good too, but hey, they chose to swim with sharks too.

Check them out sometime
, and only submit yourself for a review if you have a good dose of self-esteem and can take things with a grain of salt.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Ode to Gus

One of my favorite Internet friends has done it again:

Yes, that one armed blogger Gus Openshaw has wrangled himself up another book deal under his stooges name Keith Thomson. If it is half as good as his first book, Pirates of Pensacola, we are talking an incredible read.

I can't wait for this book. I enjoyed his blog immensely while he was creating this colorful, humorous story, and I am waiting with anticipation to relive it again with a real, live book. Gus is always courteous and kind to his readers, with a wit and writing style that just knocks your socks off.

You can relive the first few entries over at The Whale Killing Journal, and pre-order your copy of the whole thing today. Like right now.

Maybe Gus's next blog will be about how to take an online blog and get two book deals out of the mix?

Girls Night Out

So tonight the circle of soul mates, are having a girls night out.

We haven't done this in a really long time. Hopefully we won't have to lie again and say we graduated in 1995.

Anyway, it has been a difficult year for us soul mates as friends. For the first time in say 30 or some odd years we have actually had issues with our friendship.

It is damn hard to realize that after much time you might actually be growing apart.

Most of my friends I have made as adults think it is a little strange, being so close to so many people for so long. There are 9 of us, and we have been friends pretty much our whole lives. There are probably another 15 or so people in the extended circle that have been around almost that long.

We are lucky, indeed. A lot of people I know don't even have one friend from childhood, much less 8 best friends. It speaks to their character, that you could be friends with someone for that long. They do not back-stab, and they are always there when you need them.

So what could possibly start to cause friction between us?

There are 5 women in our little circle. My sister-in-law joined the circle last. She has two kids and two on the way any day now. R, my bestest friend since Kindergarten, doesn't have any kids. Her hubby and her don't really care if they have any. They don't believe in "playing God" and doing invetro and things like that, so if it don't happen naturally, it isn't going to happen.

M has a little girl and a little boy. I puffy heart their family so much. They remind me of how things were when I was little. Mom taking them to CCD. Dad coaching the soccer team. They are a complete nuclear family from way back when, and they love every minute of it.

H has no children, and wants them desperately. I feel so bad for her because even the site of a baby can practically bring her to tears. They've tried all the trying to conceive methods, and so far none of them have worked. This poor woman is like a science experiment and has gone through hell.

Then there is me, single, no kids. Things were so much easier before. I am pretty much free to do anything that I want, and the ones with kids could get Grandma or Daddy to watch the kids while we went out.

As life has gotten more hectic it isn't that easy anymore, and the desire to go out has decreased for those that have kids. They would rather do things involving their kids rather then getting away from them.

I don't have a problem with this, as I love kids. Other people's kids that is. R and H have different feelings on this. They don't have to deal with kids, so they don't want to deal with other people's kids.

So that was causing conflict. Then H started to feel like R must be judging her with all her trying to conceive efforts, which couldn't be further from the truth. When my sis-in-law became accidentally pregnant with twins, that was like the final nail in the coffin for H.

You see, my SIL was pretty distraught over the whole deal. Here she was, 37 with two older children and Whoops! pregnant with twins. We did our monthly Sunday breakfast together a few days after she found out, and she kind of lost it at the table about what the hell was she going to do?

H saw this as quite insensitive since she had been trying for the past 8 or so years to get pregnant and couldn't. She stormed out making my poor SIL feel really, really bad.

I can see H's point, I really can. I have never seen anyone want a child so bad in my life. H is also adopted, and she doesn't want to adopt. I think she just wants someone out there with her DNA that she knows. I dunno....

But to think that my SIL was venting to us about her situation and not caring about H's feelings was a big leap. SIL would never do that. Mix in the wild, uncontrollable hormones of the first trimester, a late in life pregnancy, and the fact that she just got her career off the ground and you are talking about one fucked up person.

So for the first time in our 30+ year relationship we turned into the She said this or she said that type behind your back talking shit. H didn't want anything to do with anyone but me. R understood everyone's situation, but H wouldn't listen because she thought R was judging her for "playing God".

M totally related to SIL, and I was just kind of stuck in the middle of all this crap. The poor husbands got thrown into the mix, when H's hubby took great offense to how upset we were all making his wife.

Then they promptly stopped talking to all of us. SIL and M hung out a lot. R and I were tortured over the little split and just wanted to fix it. H wouldn't return any of our calls or emails.

Until the other day, when an email landed in my inbox with three beautiful words.

I miss you. It also landed in everyone else's inbox.

So we are going out tonight. SIL is on bedrest, so we are going to take carry out over to her house first, have a group dinner around the bed, and then head out for some much needed debauchery.

I don't know if this is "fixed" or not, but it is sure on it's way to being repaired. When you have what we have shared over the years, you cannot throw it away over something like this. Hopefully we'll begin the healing process over some Chinese food, a few shots of tequila, and probably a whole bunch of tears.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

It's Unnatural I Tell You

I have a secret that I'm going to share with you, dear reader.

I think having babies is the most unnatural thing in the world.

Now I know you are sitting there either scratching your head or staring at these words in disbelief. Isn't giving birth supposed to be the most natural thing in the world? Isn't that part of our biological need?

Not to me. While most people coo and ahhh over pregnant women, they just plain creep.me.out.

I full well blame all of this on my my sister.

You see, when I was in 8th grade she decided to give birth to my oldest nephew. She was newly married, and living a couple of hours away from us. My parents sent me down to help, as she would be moving back to our home town once the baby was born.

I was actually really excited about all of this. Even though I was the last child born in our family in a really long time, and oh my God was I the baby, being an Aunt just seemed like the coolest thing in the world. Going to "help" just was the coolest thing ever.

So I went, and my sister and I got along for what was probably the first time in our lives. Probably the only time, too. Even then the site of her tummy moving on it's own made me a bit uneasy. It was way to out of the movie Aliens for me. I mean, here was this new life force, moving by itself, something that you can't control in your own body.....

After I was there a couple of weeks she decided to go into labor and guess what? Her new hubby was no where to be found. So my 13 year old ass got to go to the hospital.....

For whatever reason they didn't think it was strange for a 13 year old to be present while they did all that stuff they do before you have a baby. I'll never forget seeing that contraction monitor going through the roof every time she had a contraction. I'll never forget that nurse putting the monitor on my nephew's head and her arm disappearing up to her elbow.

It was the best birth control anyone could ever give a 13 year old girl. I swore I would never, ever have sex. Until a sexy army ranger came along that is.......


So I was traumatized big time. Even without this experience I think the whole being pregnant stuff would creep.me.out. Yes, I can be a bit of a control freak, so having something that I have absolutely no control over for 9 months would just not suit me well.

When I went to the baby shower everyone was cooing and touching her stomach. I kept that stomach at a 3 feet distance from myself at all times.

Go ahead, kick me out of the women's club. I can't help it. I don't like babies either.

Ok, so now you are thinking I'm some freak of nature, right? I can't help it I tell ya....

Once they can hold their own head up and all that I'm cool. Before that though, they creep.me.out.

Y'all are gonna go away forever now, right? Are you pointing and laughing at the freak of nature woman that thinks pregnancy is unnatural and babies are creepy?

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Google This, Biiatch

I'm am always amazed by the number of sick bast-ids out there on the Internet. Some of the hits I get from Google truly seem like they come from way the fuck out in left field.

I suppose it is my fault for saying fuck so much. Put fuck together with any other word and you pretty much get a great big list of my search engine hits.

So if I talk about old men and rabbits in the same post, I'll get some sick fucker out there that types in old men fucking rabbits coming to my blog.

Oh well. There was huge activity out there for The Sexiest Man Alive.

Is it already time for that issue, or are people just looking for the sexiest man alive?

If I had to pick who the sexiest man alive is I really don't think I could choose just one. The UPS man from that link up there is definitely in the running, but here are my choices if the Gods allowed me to choose from the rich, spoiled, famous type people.

Sexy boy #1 is someone I didn't even know existed until my CSI addiction. George Eads is fiiiiine. Have I ever told you I have a thing about Texan men who smirk?

Just to prove the whole Texan accent smirky thing here is sexy boy #2:

Now I'm not all about Texan accents. Case in point, sexy man #3:

My God, doesn't he just look like he could teach you a thing or three? See, I'm international with my accents. Check out #4:

For those of you who don't know who this is, it is Dougray Scott, who in my book is the sexiest man ever. Ever I say. Ever After that is. From the movie. Ever After. See, I get all tongue/finger tied just thinking about him.

There is a part in that movie where Drew Barrymore, the lucky bitch, gets to say, "It's not fair, you know my weakness, but I don't know yours." He says, "Well I'd think that was obvious," and looks down with this sheepish-embarrassed type look.

I'll tell you this right now. If a man ever did something like that to me, my clothes would spontaneously combust on the spot. That movie is pure women porn.

Alright, I'll stop now. I could probably go on for days, but that's enough eye candy for now. Come to think of it, a post complaining about sick bast-ids is probably going to produce a bunch more sick bast-id searches. Women Porn. George Eads fucking rabbits.