No You’re Not A Guy’s Girl, You’re Just A Bitch

I’ve noticed a ton of blogs out there defending and explaining the “guy’s girl”, these are all of course from self-proclaimed “guys’ girls”. When I hear a female call herself a “guy’s girl”, I basically run the other way with my arms flailing above my head. In classic ‘run there’s an ax murderer chasing me’ posture. Usually the women saying this are actually quite passively aggressively mean and spiteful, with their back-handed compliments and superior attitudes and this is just another subversive way of being hateful towards other women. The old blame game at its finest. Believe me I know that there are women you don’t like and don’t get along with. That’s normal. Women ARE bitches (men are dicks, whateves), but certainly you can find some bitch that your inner bitch responds to? I have three best friends and then a bit wider group of 3 or 4 more close friends, plus the girls I still talk to in the city I grew up in. I’m not bragging about how many friends I have, but let’s break it down. You have come in contact with thousands of women in your life through childhood, school, work, marriage, kids etc. If you can’t come up with a few with whom you have real connection, you need to have a Come-to-Jesus moment that it may be you who has issues.

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If you’re the kind of girl who says “girls don’t like me, I prefer to hang out with guys because there’s no drama”. Maybe you just prefer to use your sexuality rather than your heart and mind to make connections with people; maybe you are the drama, sweetie pie. You know, the girl who has to be the center of attention, always. If she does have girlfriends she picks ones that she can ‘one up’ in every way, or they’re a strategic friendship to gain something. All of my friends are beautiful, funny and know how to own a room in their own way. I love women with big personalities, hearts and minds. They all love attention, but none are attention whores. They have no need to be the only snowflake in a rainstorm. I actually like a real bitch, she takes no shit and knows what she wants, I find that incredibly attractive. The same characteristic in a man,,, is called being a man…

In all honesty I used to say it myself when I was younger (like 19!) and still figuring myself out. “I hang out with guys, girls are such bitches”. Hearing that come out of my mouth, the irony was, at that time, lost on me. However, that in itself is actually a pretty bitchy thing to say, no??? And that’s when it clicked. Saying that doesn’t sound cool, it sounds like I’m an asshole, it’s actually a bit misogynistic. And then I heard other women say it and thought- so you don’t like me or other women, well good on ya, I’ll keep it moving then.  I decided then that I wanted to be a “girl’s girl”, the kind of woman other women want to be friends with and want to be around, the kind other women can trust and relate to. I realized how cool that is.

The Universe has brought me to all of the women in my life. It was love at first sight with the BFF. Literally. My husband had been trying to set us up on a date, but I didn’t trust his intuition after some previous disasters. Then we had a party; she came with her husband and across a crowded room, our eyes met. The moment we were introduced, we both knew and have been inseparable ever since. Ten years later, the rest is history. We bought houses 2 blocks from each other and that wasn’t good enough, so we bought acre lots next door to each other and that is where we are, forever; in each other’s faces and business every day. People often say to me, “how can you stand to be that close, what if you fight?” Well,,, guess what- we DO fight, but like I tell people, “what do you think I do when I fight with my husband?” This relationship is for life, YO! Then there is my “big sister”, I chose her. I watched her from a far for awhile and knew she was for me, once I decided, it was done. I typically get what I set my mind on having.  Fortuitously, she was flattered to be chosen and courted, to be sought after by another woman. Then something happened that cemented the friendship and I believe opened her eyes up to what a real female friendship should be about. Not long after we became friends, someone had the audacity, the nerve to talk foul about her in front of me.  I hold loyalty high above all other qualities in a friendship; I give it completely and expect it in return. I defended her and publicly shamed those talking badly. I don’t give a crap if you talk about us, I know people do (we talk about you too) just don’t be disrespectful enough to do it where I can hear you.

The women in your lives will be your rock in many instances, as close and as deep as a husband, but very different. You will never get from a man what a woman can give. I have had my best friend hold me in her arms while I cried from my soul for my dog who passed away. My husband couldn’t give me that, he felt bad and sad too, but he didn’t “know”. Most men do not show emotions as expressively as we do. And if your best guy friend is holding you like that, I guarantee he is imagining you naked with your boob in his mouth. My husband will pet my head when I put it in his lap, but he’s still hoping for a happy ending. When I do it to the BFF, she is just thinking “Oh her face is pretty, let me pet her pretty face!” Now guys, stop being pervs and picturing us naked having a pillow fight, that only happens when you are watching porn.

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You can also never have the same escapades and hijinx with a dude. You won’t get dressed up and go out and giggle drunky in a stall peeing together, or make fun of other bitches’ poor choice of front pleated pants. You’re not going to be able to complain about your cramps, borrow a tampon or check to make sure that weird bump on your lady parts is just an ingrown hair with a dude. Just like a group of guys isn’t gonna want you watching football with them while they burp, scratch, fart and rank who has the best tits out all the girls they know. Oh I know some girl out there will argue she does do that, but you aren’t really part of that club, you can’t write your name in the snow with your man stick.

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Don’t get me wrong I have guy friends. I had more before I got married and the remaining closest are from that previous time. I have a best guy friend I have had most of my life. However, I don’t categorize myself as a guy’s girl, it’s not how I define myself. And once you are in a committed relationship, your significant other really should be your best guy friend and if another has that spot, you should be worried for your relationship. I mean, be honest; do you want your significant other having a female that he considers a better and closer friend than you? Someone else with a vagina that he would rather confide in, that he wants to hang out with more than, or even just as much as you? Unless she is cross-eyed and 500 pounds with halitosis, don’t lie – that shit would fuck with your head and it should.

So for all you guys’ girls out there, here is an internet hug, from a woman. We are your people. Find your tribe and love them hard and you will never regret it. You will not be 80 years old sitting on the front porch with a man who is not your husband talking about the glory days, unless you are a fag hag with a gaggle of gay friends and in that case I am totes jealy of you, lucky bitch. And remember this – If you don’t like women, then you don’t like yourself…

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Armenian Ass Induced Mass Hysteria

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I read this article on The Grio last week and although, yes, it’s well written and I quite clearly understand everything the author is saying, I also thought, so what? None of this is new and why are we now making Kim K’s ass about race? I mean honestly there are enough legitimate race-related issues out there, but Kim K’s ass?  Seriously?  There have been white people who have sexualized, to the point of fetishism, blacks, Asians, Hispanics and so on since forever.  And guess WHAT??? It’s been going both ways just as long! There have always been people of color who have been sexually attracted to Caucasian people, too.  Let’s look at a line from that remarkably well written song by Kim K’s own husband, Kanye West’s Gold Digga “But when you get on he leave your ass for a white girl”. Then, the fact that the author also criticized Kim for admitting that until she gave birth to a black child, she “never even gave much thought to race” or what it means to be a person of color in this world irks me.  First of all, let’s not pretend we think Kim thinks of much at all to begin with, but I do wish everyone would stop thinking in terms of color. Obviously she has no negative thoughts about it as she is happily in a biracial relationship.  So why do you care?  Let’s all collectively MOVE ON!

There will always be people who sexualize and abuse and discriminate.  Just like there are always going to be celebrities showing their butts and boobs to capitalize on our sexual desires.  It really is just human nature.  We are wired to have sex and there will always be humans whose sexual proclivities lean toward lasciviousness. Let’s focus on the really important thing about this photo shoot – She really dodged a bullet, she didn’t fall on that champagne glass and pop her ass.

Others are passing judgment on her nudity. Frankly who cares if she shows her butt? I’ve seen Kim’s ass more than I have seen my own. What celebrity doesn’t have nudie pics out there somewhere at this point? BORING!  There was a celebrity Tweet chastising her by reminding her (in case she forgot) that she is A MOM.  If we all stopped wrapping nudity up in conflicting feelings of shame and arrogance, pleasure and pain, morality and lust maybe people wouldn’t get so twisted about it. Animals all walk around naked, we were born naked, and oh yes, people mostly like to get naked to have sex. Personally, I like to clean the house naked, but eh, that’s another story.

I am not saying that as a mom, I am going to go out and flaunt my derriere (you should be so lucky) on camera, but my job isn’t to make money by showing my bum.  Basically, that is Kim K’s job. BUT let me be clear, if someone wanted to pay me a million dollars to slather on some baby oil, step into a black trash bag (that is what she has on, right?) and show my rump, I would do it. Call me a whore if you want. Furthermore, if someone would pay MY mom even $100,000, I’d be helping her unbutton her drawers faster than you could say “I like big butts and I cannot lie”! And she’s a grandma – oh, the disgrace!!

Apparently the Kimster also did a full frontal in this shoot and I am a bit scared to see it. I have heard a rumor that when she had her bum injected with fat she also had to do her lips, for balance sake -I’m not sure which set of lips they mean…

Kim accomplished what she set out to do. Have everyone looking at and talking about her ass. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. By the way, Kimmy said she did not say she was setting out to “break the internet”, she said “damn, my big ass broke my fishnets”. She’s always being misquoted.

I Am Not A Sexist, But I Like Being Sexy

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I got a shit load of comments on my blog The Pussification of America. They were all over the map from being complimentary and in agreement, to accusing me of all manner of personal offenses. I may be a wee bitty twisted, but the ones that really tickle my fancy are those from people who have lost their common sense and sense of humor, and have gotten their panties so far up their ass they require surgical removal.  Of those I found particularly giggle-worthy were women calling me sexist, saying my title was misogynistic for using the word Pussification. It got me thinking over this whole topic, sexism, and women chastising other women for the rather inconsequential behaviors they deem “sexist”. Who made them the Ché Guevara of Women’s Liberation?

Am I misogynistic? AbsoFUCKINGlutely NOT! I am the complete opposite. I LOVE strong women. I like them bossy, bitchy, fickle and pickled; with big personalities and even bigger boobs. And I like women with smart mouths and smart minds. Furthermore, I love sexy women and I love being sexy myself. I already know by saying this people are going to get all butt-hurt and cross-eyed, and say I am perpetrating antiquated roles for men and women.  I. Am. Not.  I am just talking about what I LIKE. You do not have to like it or agree.

Am I sexist?? Maybe according to some crunchy woman who wants me to wear Birkenstocks, grow my arm pit hair, give up my mani-pedis/facials and shout from the tallest building that “I don’t need no man!” But really? Me? Sexist? Seriously? No. By definition being sexist means you believe one gender to be inferior to another. Just because I entertain some stereotypes, does not mean I think women are weak. I think sexy is the new strong and I find it empowering. I don’t need to wear the pants. I like wearing the skirt (the shorter the better) and the high heels too. I enjoy when men AND women notice me. I work hard to keep in shape and be attractive. Why does it bother some women if I take pleasure in this? Is it because they aren’t comfortable being sexy themselves or is it because they believe my being sexy makes women less credible? Dressing sexy does not a whore make you. I just feel comfortable in my own skin and don’t follow the notion that the human body is something to be ashamed of or hidden. Now, yes, there are times when such dress would be inappropriate. Clearly, when I am at work or going to my child’s school, I dress professionally; but when I go out dancing or to dinner with my husband, I like to be pretty and I relish a little attention.

I also get annoyed when women try to push their definition of women’s liberation on others (or more specifically on me). There are many ways for women to be liberated. Why do they think it’s wrong that I enjoy being in a relationship where I do the “girly stuff” and he does the “manly stuff”? I like making my house beautiful, arranging flowers, lighting scented candles and cooking a great dinner for my man. I like making him feel like the King, because in turn he makes me feel like his Queen. Personally I don’t want to carry my own groceries or pull my own chair out at a restaurant. I don’t want to open my own car door. I like standing there reapplying my lip gloss while I wait for him to do it for me.

Obviously, there are men and women across the spectrum. Certainly a woman can be a good mechanic and a man can be a good housekeeper and there are many happy couples who are in same gender relationships and I whole heartedly support that too. BUT there are stereotypes for a reason, although it shouldn’t be wrong if you venture outside the box. If you don’t fit a preconceived notion, that is awesome, I love originality. But on the other hand, if you do conform to gender roles in your own life and relationships, that should be ok too. Essentially I like women in all shapes, sizes and personalities; the only requirement is to be FUN and not to rebuke other women for using the word Pussification.

The thing that actually physically classifies us as “women” is having a vagina; other than that, it is up to each individual how she wants to define herself. I’m not telling any other women how to be and in fact I appreciate and celebrate all women for being authentic to themselves. Own your femininity and if you do that by wearing camo pants and sporting a mullet then I high five you!

So, for me Pussification is just a funny word and I LIKE it. It doesn’t make me think of vaginas, it makes me giggle. Of course the word vagina makes me giggle too, but I digress. Pussification makes me think of whiners and it perfectly elucidated what I was trying to say… I LIKE funny words. I LIKE butt-burp and asshat and douchecanoe, too.

I am standing behind PUSSIFICATION and my flagrant sexist ways. I’m not easily offended and words don’t usually bother me, it’s the intent behind the words that holds the possibility of hurt feelings. Even then I usually can’t work up a good “give a shit”. I’m too busy sending boob pics to my husband…

Why Politicians Will Get You Bit By A Zombie

The Zombies are coming! The Zombies are coming!  When The Zombie Apocalypse happens we will have to band together in small clusters of strong, smart people who possess crucial skills that facilitate group survival. We’ll call these Anti-Zombie Teams or AZT’s. Now, when I say Zombies, I mean real ones – humans that have been infected by a virus engineered by Government Scientists in their top secret, hush-hush underground laboratories (the ones politicians swear don’t exist.) The labs that are located right next to the NSA clandestine eavesdropping rooms.

Zombies can’t think or see; they find their food by following human scent and loud noises.  Politicians stink and Lord knows they never shut up.  Duh, politicians will be easy prey.

Politicians have a plethora of self-preservation skills, but no group survivals skills. Given that they would let a Zombie gnaw their own mum’s bum for a vote, certainly your arse isn’t far behind. So you better not have one on your AZT, unless you want to get bit!  The ludicrous things these politicians say and do could be comic relief, except they are the ones laughing all the way to the bank with their fatcat paychecks, pensions and benefits.  What we have is good enough for us, but what we have isn’t good enough for them.  And every day they take another bite out of our paychecks, OUCH!

When the Zombies are drooling on your porch and pawing at your front door, don’t expect disaster relief from the politicians.  The President will be immediately whisked away to his super secret hidey-hole bunker while We The People will have to sit tight and wait for the data, stats, polls, pie charts and graphs to be analyzed by Government “experts” before they will  even consider the existence of Zombies.  Before announcing a Zombie pandemic, they will run tests on us (without our knowledge or consent) and after, will force ineffective vaccines on us so their pharmaceutical cronies get their bite too.

If it’s a politician on the Left they will undoubtedly want to recruit the Zombies for their AZT, since they have (allegedly) used dead people, or at least their names, in the past.  Furthermore, anyone on the Left will want us to fight for those too lazy to fight for themselves. You know, “strength redistribution”…

A politician from the Right will probably want to check your bank account and pedigree prior to offering their support to your AZT.  And for all of you on a military AZT, follow the don’t ask, don’t tell policy or face expulsion.

To put it bluntly, the Left wants a handout from our pockets while the Right wants to line their own pockets.

If you get stuck with Congressman Joe Salazar (D) on your AZT, he will want you to use a whistle, not a gun, to fight off the Zombies.  According to him, whistles are a safer way for women to protect themselves from a rapist than guns are. Women are too dumb and easily given to neurotic fits of panic to safely handle such powerful weapons. He concluded that we may erroneously shoot people not trying to rape us, because it is so easy to confuse a normal man’s behavior with some maniac trying to rip your clothes off.  Following his logic, we will certainly over-react and mistake an uninfected person for a Zombie in our agitated state. I guess he will want you to blow the whistle really loudly in the Zombies ear to scare it away. Thanks Congressman Salazar, how about you take your whistle and figure out a new way to blow it.

Representative Todd Akin (R) will want proof that it was a legitimate Zombie bite.  Given that women who are legitimately raped don’t get pregnant since their bodies prevent them from doing so. Therefore if you are legitimately attacked by a Zombie, your body will protect you from infection. The rest of us must be Zombie Groupies that are asking for it, flaunting our flesh in short skirts and what not. Let’s put him in a dark alley with a 250 pound Zombie named Bubba and see what legitimately happens.                                                                                                                                                                  **The point of this paragraph has nothing to do with being pro or anti abortion. Whichever you are, there is no denying that this insensitive and deeply hurtful statement discounted the horrific experience of every rape victim/survivor. **

We’re on our own to implement successful escape plans. Based on the fiasco in Atlanta, due to the massive early release of workers triggered by the impending ice storm, we know Government certainly won’t be able to execute an effective evacuation. They’ll have us all stuck in a traffic jam, a virtual cafeteria style lunch line for ravenous Zombies.

Be it the Right or the Left, it’s more than probable that they too are a fiendish perversion of humanity; one we need equally to battle against, the sex fiend.  If history is any indication, I’m sure they will try to boink every damsel in distress and fornicate with anyone that still has a pulse. Let’s reminisce about Former President Clinton (D) and the cigar debacle. He seemed to be confused about what hole cigars go in.  Or, Congressman Anthony Weiner (D), aptly named since rumor has it his wiener does all the thinking (and texting) for him.  Let’s not forget Senator Larry Craig (R), caught trying to solicit a blow job from an undercover cop in an airport bathroom; apparently he wanted his “mind” blown.  Ironic since he was voting for states to have the right to refuse to recognize gay marriage.

Furthermore, we need to worry if any of them will be sober enough to fight.  With all the excessive drinking, crack smoking, pot smoking and pill popping that seems to transpire up on The Hill.  Many people are moving towards an acceptance of marijuana use (TAX PROFIT!), BUT when we are trying to fight off hordes of the undead we can’t be worried about Cheetos and South Park.

What I find hilarious, whilst also alarming, is that people only seem to mind corruption when it is on the other side of the aisle. When it is in their favored party, they are more than willing to make justifications for the blatant fraud, hateful rhetoric, and constant lies that seem to fall from their forked tongues like raindrops from a thick Seattle sky.

Frankly, I am far less afraid of The Walking Dead, than I am of the halfwits running this country.

Obviously, I made a joke of this whole issue because that’s how I deal with scary shit, I make jokes.  I would love to hear what your thoughts and solutions would be to a Government plagued with corruption and lies. (Is there any Government that isn’t?)  I think a good start would be that every politician should have one six-year term.  You come, you do some work, and then you GO!

The Pussification Of America

No one wants to do jack shit anymore.  We are raising a bunch of whiney jerky cry babies.  In fact many of us are whiney jerky cry babies.

Remember the days of ole when someone acted like an asshole and they got their butt kicked? You can’t do that now, because you will go to jail and then get sued.  Asshats have all the power.

Remember when you had to go to school even when it was cold out?  Not anymore.  I live in Texas and we had one day of ice and for the next week the city periodically shut down because it was a little wintery out.  I mean, it is WINTER, and shockingly enough it is going to get cold out.  School boards were so scared of getting bitched out (or sued; it is, after all, the American way) by parents, they were calling bad weather days for cold.  Just.  For.  COLD!   I may have seen one teeny tiny icicle, but there were not even two flakes of snow, not even one.  How about we just cancel school for all of January and February?  God forbid little Suzie gets chilly on her way from the warm bus to the warm school.  When I was a kid I had to walk barefoot in the sand both ways and I even got a SUNBURN!  Ok, ok, I grew up in San Diego, but you get the picture.

Remember when you actually had to win to get a trophy?  Not anymore.  The fact that my kid gets a participation award for just being on a team pisses me off.  Honestly, that’s not the message I want to send to our youth, or particularly, my son.   Just show up, you don’t even have to try.  I want my kid to know he has to kickass and be awesome. Be a badass!  In the grown-up world, they aren’t going to get promotions and raises just for showing up (unless they work for the Government).  Our kids will be expected to do shit, shit that counts.  Or they can just live in your basement forever and you can continue to do shit for them…

Remember when America led the industrialized world and made everybody’s shit?  Not anymore.  Now China makes all of our shit.  Wonder why?  They do shit over there, they’re willing to do shit. People here don’t want the shit jobs anymore.  The blue collar jobs.   The jobs that may break your back, but make you stand tall.  Everyone wants a cushy job with a nice office.  No one wants dirt under their nails.  No one wants to plunge a toilet; we’re all too good for that.  Listen, I live w/ two men, I plunge a toilet at least once a week and I clean them too.  Why?  Because if I don’t do the shit, the shit won’t get done.  Shit will be everywhere…

Remember when hard work was something to be proud of?  Not anymore.  Now everybody thinks it’s their right to have a job they love.  Another myth we’ve spoon fed our youth.   It’s called work for a reason.  NOT everybody gets to love what they do.  If you manage to have a job you love, you are very, very lucky.  It’s not your God-given right.

Remember Reading, Writing and Arithmetic?  When using a calculator was cheating?  Not anymore.  Jeeze, in school they don’t even need to learn to write, like with their hands, anymore.  Why waste time learning when a computer, calculator or Government can think for them?

Speaking of the Government, it owes me.  People with more money owe ME.  Everybody OWES ME!  ME.  ME.  ME!  Nobody owes ME jack shit.  I owe myself.  Pride, dignity, respect.  Go work for what you want.  I hear kids graduating from college complain that it’s the previous generations fault they can’t get jobs, we’ve ruined it for them.  NEWS FLASH:  There have been recessions and depressions and economic slowdowns since the beginning of time.  They aren’t the first to endure this.  There are jobs out there and shit that needs doing.  If you don’t like the way things are, get out there, work hard, and change shit!  Start a revolution!  (Oh shit! That’s hard work!)  Complaining- won’t change shit.

I’m not going to tell anyone how to parent.  Ok so maybe I am, a little bit.  BUT I think we can all agree that if we focus on loving our kids, teaching them good core values (you know, right from wrong, The Golden Rule and such silly things), and set real boundaries with real consequences (so life’s consequences don’t include you bailing them out of jail at 3am someday) it would be a good thing for them and for us.  I think we are so busy not wanting to spank or yell or traumatize our children that we have forgotten consequences are part of real life.  Not teaching that to our kids is doing them a disservice.  If time out is what you like, great use it. But how about not saying something like this: “Jimmy if you do such and such again I’m giving you a time out.” Then Jimmy does again. “I’m serious; don’t make me count to 10! One, two, three.  I’m serious… One, two, three…  Don’t make me say it again…  One, two, three”.   And he does it again and again and again because he knows you never will reach Ten and there is no consequence.  The only consequence is he has to listen to you practice your numbers over and over.

Couples therapy, psychotherapy, counseling.  Depression, anorexia, anger management.  The lists go on and on.   Psychological and emotional trauma is a luxury for us 1st world inhabitants.  Hunger, rape, war, genocide.  These are the troubles facing people in Ethiopia, Yemen and the slums of Mexico.  When you’re agonizing over having to sell your 8-year-old daughter into marriage so your other children won’t starve, you don’t have time to take stock of the booboos your parents inflicted upon you and point fingers at everyone else for the problems in your own life.  No time for therapy when you are praying the guerrilla war doesn’t bust through your mud-hut door.  They don’t give a shit if their kid gets a participation award at school; they just want their children to survive.

Being born in America is winning the birth lottery and if we don’t start appreciating it and being grateful, like fall on your knees and kiss the ground grateful. Like willing to work hard and do SHIT to keep our country great, then I guess we will get to see how the other half lives. Then we will really have shit to complain about.

Writing About Why I Am Writing (insert eye roll)

Blogging, the internal selfie. Look I am smart, witty, ironic, LOOK. AT. ME!

Why I am blogging?? Silly question, but it seems necessary to explain.

First of all because I’m effin’ hilarious. At least periodically I am, definitely when I’m drunk, which makes it more than periodically, but less than daily. Not to worry, I am more often sober than not, which makes me sad. Boo, it would be way more fun if we could drink all the time. But alas, that isn’t socially acceptable.

Second because I have important shit to say. At least it’s important to me and really isn’t that what blogging’s about? People thinking the shit they have to say is so important that other people will take the time to read it? But seriously all my closest friends tell me I should blog or write a book and we know they wouldn’t lie. Right? RIGHT!!!

Third, I am fabulous.

Deciding to write a blog was a big decision. You are opening yourself up and letting the world know things that would otherwise be private and quite possibly better off that way. Moreover, in telling your story, you inevitably tell the stories of the people closest to you, which they might not well appreciate. But I do have a big mouth, err, uhhh… I mean a gift for gab and writing and furthermore I am occasionally hilarious, in case I forgot to mention that. I crack myself up constantly. Maybe in sharing myself, it will help others? Not in some monstrumental earth-shattering way, just by making them laugh or by telling a relatable story. I am not setting out to change the world. I am setting out to make people smile. Whether that is because they laugh or because they relate, so be it. And if I am going to do this, I’m going to be real and authentic. Otherwise, I would annoy myself.

It is also intimidating having an audience listen to your inner dialogue. What if they don’t like me or what I have to say? What if I am dull? If you are going to write a humor blog, it better damn well be humorous! I got performance anxiety just thinking about it. Consequently I started looking around at other peoples blogs to get a feel for this thing I am about to do and let me tell you, I can’t possibly be any more dreary than the person who writes about the entire day of their cat. Over and over and over. Lady get a life, we don’t care that Snickerdoodle took a poo in her litter box @ 1am. Or how about the Asshat who thinks he is being droll and tells you ALL about his relationships with the people in his life while referring to himself in the third person. Does someone actually have sex w/ you? Are you shouting out “Oh baby, yeah that’s how Dan likes it”?? Gross.

So I decided to just do it and see where it goes.

Before we start this journey (now I am assuming a stranger is actually reading this and not just all my closest friends who have to follow me otherwise I won’t drink with them anymore – no more drunkish fun for them), let me tell you a wee bitty about meself. Sorry, I just let my inner leprechaun out for minute, let’s get on with it.

I am an awesome, sexy, funny (did I mention that I am funny?) 38-year-old woman with obvious self confidence issues. I have a tween son and I’m married to a firefighter (sigh, swoon- yes, ladies he is hot). I’m originally from Southern California and we transplanted to “The South” for the opportunity to raise our child in a more suburban environment. OK, fine, it was for cheaper housing, WHATEVER! I have a job that allows me to work from home, so if you don’t like what I have to say, there is no boss to send a screen shot to, just suck it up and go away. Or you can leave a rude comment that will give me something to giggle about, but if you are going to do that, please be creative. I am sure I will reveal more along the way, but that’s more than enough for now.

So to wrap this up, I hope you will be amazed whilst simultaneously repulsed by the weekly internal selfies I provide you. One week it may be my new pedicure up on the table beside a fantastic plate of cheesy chili fries (selfie level EXPERT, my food and my feet!) Then another day I may be in my bathroom mirror, clad in a bikini, with my Granny standing next to me and Vagisil on the counter. I am speaking metaphorically of course, I may attach some pics now and again, but the essence of it will be my prose. At the very least, I hope I entertain you at times. Stay tuned, next time I will actually write about something, rather than writing about writing…