Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Aging is directly correlated to intelligence. I hope.

I started to look at how differently I see things now at almost 42 years old. I guess having teen and adult stepkids who are trying to find their way, I have taken a step back in an effort to understand why all the damn ANGST? So...I go back and try to remember what the hell it was to be young... Here is PART 1 of this exercise:

Love and sex:

22: so, I’m expected to find a perfect mate and settle down. At 22 most dudes aren’t exactly the picture of faithful husband material. But what do I know? Find someone who adores you and stick with it yes? No matter that he’s a cheating, lying, gold-toofed mut. No matter that he can’t keep a job for more than 4 weeks and you’re the one paying for everything all the time. I guess the good part is that the grocery bill is super low since he’s never home at night.

The bonus parts of love and sex at 22 is that there is NO end to the energy we can produce in the bedroom. I mean, twice a day? No problem. I guess for him it was more than twice a day, right? My twice and his other broad’s once or twice. The boy had skillz. BUT, looking back, as a youngster, I think I rushed through it get to the good stuff. I think I missed a lot of the nuances and playfulness and real foreplay in a mad dash to not have my partner beat me to the end zone.

32: “married” with children. In love? Maybe. But for sure in a committed relationship and keeping house like a real grown up. It’s more like being a love survivalist…peck on the cheek or lips to say hi, same for goodnight. Doing what it takes to be together in this fog whilst trying to keep everyone in the house alive and healthy. “Oh, what a happy couple!” Well, we were a couple alright. But happy? I’d say, at least for me, it was faking it to make it. Only what no one told me is that that RARELY works. Because we feel however we feel…that part doesn’t change.

During this period, the sex was an act of attrition. I participated only when it was crucial. I was never forced, don’t get me wrong. But I did it to shut him up. I had no interest in it. Being exhausted with 4 kids and you’re the only functioning adult in the house makes a woman feel REAL unsexy. Also, the resulting XX lb weight gain from childbearing certainly puts a damper one a woman’s sex appeal. You’re lucky if you get a shower long enough to work up a lather 5 days a week.

42: happily divorced and in LUUUURVE. Feeling like I’ve been enlightened by Budda and all the goddesses to all matters of love and partnership. Also, it helps that I’m old enough to know that nothing is forver and it’s kind of important to enjoy as much time as you can while it’s all good. Because tomorrow you might find out he’s a reincarnation of 22-yo dude above.

The 42-yo body sure ain’t tight and toned like the 22-yo body. But it DOES respond differently. I think learning what works and how to enjoy the simplicity and the complexities of each act lends to a whole different (read: BETTER) secksual experience.

Hair removal

22: one day while getting my hair done in a salon, the mildly challenged helper boy said to me “I love a girl with a moustache”. THE FUCK? I HAVE A MOUSTACHE? It never occurred to me. It also never occurred to me that the hair I sport in the nethers was voluminous. And Shaving? That was for special occasions like swimsuit season or a special date. Otherwise, what was the point? I will also mention I was 22 in 1991 when a hairy vag was still the norm.

32: I realize I’m hairy and I don’t care. Shave in order to give birth? What’s more natural than pushing a human out of a full bush? Nothing, I say. Besides, if I’m all sexy and smooth my husband might find me more attractive. To hell with THAT.

42: SECKSUAL REVOLUCION! Everything stays shaved and plucked and hair-removed. No more bearskin rug on the privates. No mote caterpillar above the eyes. No more French girl under ze peets. To be honest, I feel a lot more like a girl now.

Food choices

22: I’M FAT! Okay, I’m not actually fat. But my stupid adolescent brain tells me I’m fat. So I eat like shit but then I take laxatives about once a week to purge. Because I’m brilliant that way.

32: I eat whatever I’m cooking the kids and the fam for dinner. Whether I want to or not. My saving grace is the slop I eat at work. Which, of course, helps to maintain the quite unhealthy weight I have accumulated. In those days there was lots of chicken consumed…and anything else that was on Manager’s Special at the reduced price Mexican grocery store. What do you mean that meat smells funny? WE PAID GOOD MONEY FOR THAT! You better eat up!

42: Let’s get ORGANIC! Because we can afford it and it’s better for us and it tastes like real food! And my 8-year old will probably not get her period this year if we keep eating organic meats. You know, less hormones and all…


22: I guess I’ll be a secretary. That doesn’t seem to require too much skill or smarts. They'll pay me and I can go home at 5pm and not work weekends!

32: I’m a REALLY good secretary. Thank goodness I work for a good company that gives benes and bonuses, etc. I am a ROCK STAR and this group would got to SHIT without me! EGO to the rescue!!!

42: fuck. I’m still a secretary.


22: Poli-WHA?

32: So, we have what…2 main parties? And the President is….Uh Clinton. Yes?! Cool!

42: I know all the Repub candidates. Even the ones who have said they’re not running. I’m keenly tuned into the political landscape because it matters. I understand the issues, the talking points, the house, the congress, the lies, the pandering, the historical moments, the moments created by the media...I even watch political shows on TV. ON PURPOSE.

I have several more topics for another day. Feel free to add your revelations to the list! It's getting a wee bit lonely in here.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Racists make me smile

I'm going to blame the rantings of a lunatic on the fact that no one has invented a way for humans to teleport from their car directly INTO the grocery store. Apparently it's a problem for some people if we actually walk from the car to the store entrance. With our feet.

My daughter and I stopped at the grocery store last night to pick up some goods for the fabulous Teriyaki Ginger stir fry we were concocting that night. As we walked through the parking lot, a car came speeding around the corner and had to stop short to avoid hitting us. We also, obviously, stopped walking when the car stopped. We needed to figure out which way to walk to safety. The very disgruntled trailerish broad opens her door - because I suppose it's hard to afford a car with working windows when you're living in a traler and smoking crack all day - and screams "Fuck you, you fucking nigger bitch". I felt really bad for her. I don't think she expected "Really?" and an open-mouthed bellow of laughter from me.

Here's the thing: I don't EVER give power to the insane. At least not any more. Because the insane have no way of reasoning. They cannot discern what is an appropriate response to almost running over 2 females in a parking lot. To the insane, FUH-REAKING out seems like the right reaction when clearly, it is not. So, why agree with her irrational reaction by getting equally as FUH-RREAKED out? That would make me irrational, yes? Yes.

Here's the other thing: good thing she was in a car speeding away when I turned to laugh at her. I may not be insane, but I do have a leeeeetle bottle of pent up anger that is especially reserved for fucking morons. She could have owned that bottle right then :D

Friday, May 13, 2011

Nature vs. Nurture = Homeless people

So, I found out that my ex-husband is now living out of his car. Well, technically, it's son's car even though it's titled in Ex's name.

My folks gave my stepson a car several years ago and "we" were supposed to pay them for the vehicle - they wanted the boy to pay for it as a lesson in learning how to be responsible. Ex never made him pay for it...shit. He let the boy drive around with no license until he hit a human person one night. Anyway, I made several payments on it until I just couldn't any more. Ex never paid a red cent. It's a 1998 Mercury Mountaineer with 8-cyl...that bitch GETS UP. Last October he put a few important belongings (one being the TV he bought with a 401k withdrawal) into the SUV and drove it out to California leaving all 4 of his kids in the Houston area. His family is from Southern California and I guess he figured he'd get some family support being back home. His oldest son (21) was supposed to go into the Marines. He's been "on his way" to boot camp since last October. His oldest daughter (18) who had been living with me from early 2009 until mid-2010 had been more recently living with random friends and in February 2011 I put her on a bus to California (per her request). The youngest two, which are also my bio-kids, are with me.

Ex stayed with his younger sister for a time and was supposedly then living with his elderly mother in a subsidized senior living apartment. I'm now told he was back at his sister's house and she put him out last week. He now lives out of the Mountaineer.

So, the really hateful part of me wants to jump up and down and point and laugh and say , "SEE?! You sonofabitch! Anything you did and anything you HAD was because of me. I'M the fucking glue that kep your life and the kids' lives afloat." Because it's the truth. But the more human and compassionate part of me wants to say, "SEE?! You sonofabitch! Anything you did and anything you HAD was because of me. I'M the fucking glue that kep your life and the kids' lives afloat." Wait...okay, I lack an essential gene. Fucking sue me.

This whole situation lends credence to the fact that Nature is a bone-crushing, MMA-brawling, Ninja with the survivability of a Zombie. Because the Stepson is living with random people, the Stepdaughter has called me for money 3 times since February and is now homeless and looking for a motel room that doesn't think she's a transient hooker....did I mention their MUTHER has been a homeless thieving waif since 2008 or so? Except for that 6 months stint in the California Women's Correctional facility last year. That's the best home she's known since 1994.

Nature baby. #Winning!!!!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


I have many many lurid and torrid stories to tell about sexscapades that I have witnessed and (maybe) participated in. I just can't figure out a way to appropriately share them without risking the intertubes' moral police on my doorstep. I'll just say the stories may or may not involve dozens of boxes of condoms, lots of sharing/swapping/3+somes, regular rotational FWBs, vaginas (lots of vaginas), and a variety of "sports" related injuries.

Best. Life. Ever.

Monday, May 9, 2011

70 year old men are kinda gross and they don't give a good goddamn

And by gnarly, I mean dizzzzgusting. And also annoying. My little 70-yo boss is an attention-whore. He MUST have it. He will do things like stand at my desk while I actively ignore him and he'll DEMAND that I acknowledge him. When I don't, he does things like bang on my desktop or swirl water through his teeth loudly. He also likes to stand at my desk (again, while I ignore him) and shove papers at me. Like, he tries to HAND them to me. It's preposterous!

Because my boss is 70, he sometimes has a little trouble with his computer and any software program he may be using at any given time. When he has trouble, he starts waving frantically from his office which is directly across from my desk. My peripheral vision picks up the arm waving, but my eyeballs stay trained on my computer screen. Because me reading blogs is ALWAYS going to supersede the need for my boss to get his own work done. But then I remember "getting his own work done" means I don't have to do it. So, I will 9 times out of 10, help him with his computer. Because I'm a giver.

My 70-yo boss is retiring in June. In order of grossness, what I will NOT miss:

- His daily post-lunch flatulence. He should consider eating less roughage. And also, how can NO ONE but me hear his gas? Because sometimes he's on the phone with a client when he rips it. And I promise you, it's a RIP, not a silent blower.

- Snorfling. This is a particularly disturbing manifestation of his need for attention. Because no one could possibly be that snot-filled. NO ONE. Which leads me to believe that maybe the snorfling is simply a tic. Like a small Tourettes outbreak every 20 minutes.

- Nail clipping. I believe this is self-explanatory.

- The nose picking. Despite my boss' generosity (sometimes when he gets a craving for chips, he offers me 1/2 the bag because he can't finish them all...unfortunately it's the 2ND half of the bag...the bag he's already had his hands in) I cannot accept any food items from him.

Considering the fact that he's 70 and still running through airports like OJ and still has all his wits and can remember specific shit from 1970 when I can't remember what color underwear I have on today...he's pretty rad. But that doesn't make him less gross. Good thing for him that he doesn't really give a shit.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Do you have a Happy Place and is there mac & cheese there?

My happy place involves my man, quiet and busy kids, wine, a peaceful and comfortable place to rest my ass....in other words, my living room is my happy place.

Last night my daughter was talking about being stressed out and she doesn't even know why. I talked to her about meditation and finding her Happy Place in order to calm down and reduce some of this stress organically:

Carm: my what?

Me: You know. A place you create in your mind. Like, a quiet field with beautiful lush green grass (with no ants) and maybe a babbling brook and some flowers and butterflies. You know....a nice peaceful zen garden.

Carm: How about a bowl of Mac and Cheese? That's pretty peaceful.

Me: the FUCK?

Carm: Yeah. My Zen Garden is gonna be a pool....a whole POOL of Mac and Cheese. *blissful grin*

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Is it wrong to expect a doctor to be...doctorly?

I am shacked up with a man who we'll call Lo. Lo is 38 years old and he plays semi-pro football. Semi-pro football is the same as pop warner (pee wee) football, except with very large and dangerous adults. The players are not paid to play, but every once in a while a young player can work his way into a school if he gets his skills up.

Last Saturday Lo was injured when a filthy, nasty, humungous lineman landed on Lo's head and neck. He received what was assumed to be a stinger. After not feeling any relief on Sunday we decided to go to an urgent care clinic for quick analysis and possible relief. And this is where it gets greusome.

After checking in and waiting for almost an hour, we were led to a room. A portly man-nurse took Lo's vitals and advised that he'd be getting a CT scan just to rule out some obvious neck fracture. Well, Lo couldn't even lay flat enough for the CT, so he came back to the room and the nice nurse game him some drrrrrugs to relaxxxxx him so they could get the CT.

Some time later, a man in red scrubs came in. He smelled like he'd bathed in a fish tank and his lips were covered with food. I'm not kidding....he had food particles ALL over his mouth. It was all we could do not to visibly gag. He was just absolutely the dirtiest person I've seen, notwithstanding homeless urchins, of course. He proceeded to ask a few questions while picking the wax out of his ear with his eye glasses. DUDE! Really??

When he went back to his desk out in the middle of the common area of the clinic, I watched him. He had 2 styrofoam plates of food...looked like some sort of spring rolls or something with dipping sauce. But there was food all over the desk and all underneath his chair. He never used a utensil and he never ONCE washed or Purexed his hands. He's a prime candidate for some sort of gut disease. Frankly, I was wondering what type of tapeworm he had. The guy was only about 5'5" and about 120lbs but he ate more in an hour than I eat in 2 days. And he was drinking diet Doctor Pepper, but at the end of every sip, he'd squinch up his face and stick out his tongue twice like a lizard as if the fizz was almost too much to bear. The whole damn thing was weird.

I told Lo last night, "Thank God he never tried to TOUCH you. We'da both freaked out. He was that repulsive".

As for the injury? Well, he's still got the stinger 5 days later. He has an MRI scheduled for Friday.