Saturday, August 11, 2018

7 Days Later And I Am Fine.

I took a #Facebreak last week.

7 days not on Facebook.

I did it because I was tired of dropping my phone on my face when I fell asleep at night.

I did it because I was tired of waking up and jumping on to see what was going on in the FB World.

I did it to see if I could.

I did it because I am SOOOOO sick of your stupid political memes.

I did it because I fucking HATE seeing your #PETA posts, showing chickens with no beaks and deformed cows, etc.

I did it because I needed to see how much FB really means to me.

Day 1.  I had to FORCE MYSELF to NOT log in.  App was deleted off of phone and laptop and desktop, but I still typed "facebook" into the browser after reading the 'news', both real and fake.  Had to force myself not to type in email and password.  Didn't type in my email, just typed  "Jason Momoa shirtless" into the Google tab as a means of (very welcome) distraction.


Can you BLAME me??






Day 2....well, I had a lot of shit going on, so I had no time to be tempted by Facebook.  Only time to be tempted by this:

Ahem.


Day 3.  Only mad that I cant see pics of my Baby Harlow.  Messenger, in my experience, is an offshoot of FB, so I can't get on Messenger without logging into FB, right?  Which means, I can't see THIS every day:

Harlow messing with her "WOO"




Day 4:  Didn't even think about FB because OH MY EVER FUCKING HEAVENS I HAVE TOO MUCH WORK TO DO!!!


Day 5:  Same.


Day 6:  Lexi is the biggest pain in the ass in the wholewideworld, and as much as I absolutely (for REAL) love my job.....I FUCKING HATE MY JOB!!


Day 7:  Guess what?? Messenger works without FB!!  Hallelujah!!  Communication is a thing!


Day 8:  I love and miss updates from my friends, but is there anything related to #JasonMomoa that I have missed???



Seriously the most perfect human on the planet.




Today:  Ummm...do I have to???  As much as I want to check in and see how you all are, I literally do not gove one single fuck how you feel about Brexit, MAGA, Omafuckface, Duchess Megs (although I luurrve her!), Kourtney's love life, or Brangelina's demise (although.... HAHA, you fucking cheaters!!).

I decided that FB is a means to an end for me.  Sooo, I will be whittling down my "friends" list very severely in the next week, so that only my actual friends are on my FB.  I will be unsubscribing from MANY groups and pages.

I literally mean not one ounce of offense to anyone, but I realized in my FB-free week, that there are very few people I want to be around, talk to, or interact with.  All of the others came about because of friends of friends and because my best friend died and suddenly a number of people I have never even met wanted to be FB friends with me.  I appreciate that...like, sooooo much.  But I have to just "do me", which means I have to be real and authentic and only keep people in my cyber (who even uses that phrase anymore??) life people that I know.

If I delete you, don't take it personally, I may accept a friend request from you in the future (unless your initials are JDW, in which case --QUIT FUCKING ASKING MY FRIENDS WHERE I AM, THEY WILL NEVER TELL YOU, ASSHOLE!!-- sorry, it had to be said), but just now I have realized that my personal social media should only be people I actually know and love.

Like this dude:


Ok,  Ok, I don't KNOW him, but I certainly LOVE him!! <3

Friday, August 3, 2018

Taking a Facebreak, Or Why I am Breaking Up With Facebook For A Week

YOU GUYS!!!!!

Facebook is AWFUL!!


Apparently Facebook did a study where Facebook made you feel bad about your life after scrolling.

BUT WAIT!!

Facebook also did a study that proved Facebook makes you feel better about your life after scrolling.

Then there was a study at Cornell.

Facebook is GOOD for you.

Then Thrillist said it is bad for you.

Then the Germans said, NO, FB is actually helping you make better connections.

It's all too confusing...Facebook is fun, but it annoys me that I pick up my phone and check it when I wake up in the morning.

I hate that about Facebook.



Here is why I like Facebook:

Ummm, yes please!!





I'll take two!!







Always


But, the real deal is this.  I used to read myself to sleep every night with an actual fucking book, and now I fall asleep dropping my phone on my face, because I am scrolling down my Newsfeed.

I very much love seeing pictures of my friends raising fabulous humans, I love seeing your birthday/anniversary/christening/bris/wedding/etc. pics, I honestly do. 
HOWEVER, I am SOOOOO over all of your fucking drama. 
I hate when you post chicken farm pics, puppy mill pics, and allllllll of your posts chastising snowflakes or celebrating 45. 
Do you HONESTLY think your political FB posts influence anyone??? 
WHY do you post pics of  ridiculous memes how your "Republican" people and your "Democrat" people are better than the other guy??

Do you HONESTLY not know that politics is a bank, the "two parties" are the managers,  and you are an account holder with an overdraft???

clears throat






Anyway, I am sick of you Lefties sitting back and doing nothing but posting memes.
I am sick of you Righties sitting back and posting memes.
Has any ONE of your memes ever changed someone’s mind??
Has it???



Pics, or it didn’t happen.


On my FaceBreak, I am going to call the local, state, and national reps I am interested in and DEMAND what I want.
On my FaceBreak, I am going to walk in the dirt with no shoes.

On my FaceBreak, I am going to talk to everyone I see and blog about it.

Sooo, on my FaceBreak, you should text me instead of trying to Messenger me, and if you don’t HAVE my cell….um, that’s probably intentional.

Sooo, on my FaceBreak, if you want to know what I am up to, you will have to check in here:



But if you don’t want to read more, or talk to me,  then just look at this until I am back on FB...


You're Welcome!!!




Tuesday, July 24, 2018

WHY, Guys...Why?


AHEM....


Why is it that a "husband and children" are seen as a goal or achievement for women?

Why is it that marriage and family is seen as a 'lifestyle' for men?

Why is it that when a woman works a 40 hour week, you ask the Hubs to "watch" the kids when you are on the clock?


Why is it that, when Hubs has to work, you PAY someone else to watch the kids?

Am I wrong here?

This shit makes me mad as hell.

(Profanity supplied by Jameson --- pregnancy not included)

I don't get how dudes can pro-create and not be just as responsible as women for their progeny.

Don't get me wrong, I know SEVERAL (three) full-time dads that pick up the slack and parent FAR better than the Moms do...

I just wonder, how did we get to the point where dad is (painfully, reluctantly, or resentfully) "watching" the babe, and Mom must bow under and -- subserviently - watch the kiddos after a 40-hour work week.


Is it a cultural thing?

Honestly?

In these days of social media and "Insta-EVERYTHING", and fake news and Equal Rights For All., how do you reconcile the fact that a mother must work a 40-hour week, read stories, cook, clean, pack lunches for Dad and kiddos and still look amazing and be DTF whenever dad wants it.

I am pathologically single....actually, at 6 years out, I am a straight up fucking spinster. but I would rather be one than ask my life partner to "watch" Lexi while I do budget revisions, work on a friend's wedding, or just get a frickin massage.


Why do we do this....assign ourselves these roles?

Fear?

Hope?

WHAT??

I choose to see it as hope, 'cause I'm cool like that, but MAN, I hope one day we don't have to have this discussion.

I hope all you lame-ass dudes could be just like Jason Momoa and raise your kids to be citizens of the Earth, without expecting them to be citizens of our culture.

Why do I not feel like that is a thing?

https://binged.it/2uNACnh
https://binged.it/2uNACnh

Monday, July 23, 2018

Survey Says!

There is a study out there that says smart people are more inclined to drink.
Wooo-hooo!!
See??  Totally not a lush, just a genius. 

Which  you already knew, yes?

Then I read another study that says if you don't have a lot of sex, it could affect your brain function, as it is proven that regular, vigorous sex improves brain function and promotes the growth of brain cells.


(Okay, I threw that 'vigorous' in myself, the study did not specify, but if you are gonna do it, you may as well do it right....right?)


Well, that sucks....So I am not smart anymore?  
What? 
The Dumb and The Sexless (would have been a great name for this blog, but I am fairly sure I was getting it on the regular when I started this damn thing!), surely that's not me??

Well, that is no fun.


It started me wondering about studies.  Like, why do people do them?  Clearly studies that lead to medical breakthroughs are good and helpful and worthwhile, but why do we study so many other things?  





Of COURSE the "binge drinking" study is the first one Google shows me...Because algorithms



I went to the Pew Research Center's web page - mostly because I like the name!




They had an article where they had done a study that showed that 1/3 of US adults knew someone that had fertility treatments and then I got annoyed.  IIIIIIIIII am a US adult, and no one asked meeeeeee if I knew someone that has fertility treatments, so howwwww can they say "1/3 of US adults"??


They didn't specify how many people they asked, they simply state "1/3 of US adults".  Is this what that Beaker-looking mo-fo at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave means by "fake news"?



                                   

I read infinity studies and realized that you could probably find a study that coincides with any particular belief you have, because the majority of 'studies' are actually just surveys. 


Like, they asked 2002 (odd number to choose, right?  Like 2000 wouldn't do, they just had to squeeze in those extra 2 people?) people to rank their favorite presidents, and said a "study showed"  that X% of Americans preferred this guy to that one.

Lame!!!

That wasn't a study, that was a survey!!


That actually fills me with a great deal of relief because, as I was science-ing on the internet, I was able to find out the following things:



1. Fat bottomed girls really do make the world go round.

2. Sexual satisfaction for women inproves with age
3. Even though I am pretty much a nun, I still have more sex than a large number of married people
4. Size doesn't matter (I respectfully disagree)
5. I may be slightly obsessed with sex.  (that wasn't a survey or anything, I am just noticing a trend here in my train if thought.)


I was, sadly, unable to find any recent studies with Jason Momoa as the subject, but think that I should commission one really soon.






I'll keep you posted!


Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Something About Something

Last week, someone that I love and admire a whole lot mentioned that I hadn't blogged lately, and that she missed reading my stuff.

*BLUSH*

The reason I haven't been talking (blogging), is that I have been DOING.

I have been soooo frickin' busy doing "stuff", that I have literally not had any time to log onto this page and write.

I finally decided what my "Magnum Opus" was going to be about...or WHOM, I should say.  I decided it was time to give Old Jimbo his moment in the sun, even if it is fictional AF.

I have been desperately living, running around all over town dropping off, picking up, watching, playing, cooking, cleaning, and frantically trying to memorialize my best friend in print -- the way he should be remembered.

Which leaves me little time for this, my mental jerk-off (sorry, guys, but it is) place.

So, here is what has been going on...

Numerous friends getting married -- which means buying gifts, buying dresses with unflattering hems; buying, buying, buying.

Numerous friends getting divorced -- which means buying and making freezer meals, buying cards and "pamper yourself" gifts; buying, buying, buying.

Numerous friends launching Direct Marketing businesses, which means spending money on face masks, spending money on supplements; spending, spending, spending.

Numerous friends having babies, which means spending money at chain stores I would otherwise never set foot in, spending money on diapers and clothes and lotions, unguents, and wipes; spending, spending, spending.

Meanwhile, it is already FUCKING JUNE, which means the year is halfway over (already?!?!? WTF!!!), and I have missed my "I promise I will have a boyfriend by Summer" date, which I pledged to friends, family, and my Little Sis (who is both and a whole lot more!), so I would stop being the 3rd, 5th, 7th, wheel at events, and no longer be caught shamelessly making out with the keg in the background of everyone's "Insta" pics at events.

Sorry about that...

I'm actually not, though, which is where I toss out an "Insta-ready" hashtag -- #SorryNotSorry

I really meant to get a permanent BF this year...HONESTLY!

You can ask Little Sis, I even recklessly swore that THIS summer would be different, and that I would definitely not be the odd person out at every 'family' event, where everyone is coupled up and holding hands, fondly watching the kids play and speaking some crazy insider couplespeak while I surreptitiously pounded an IPA and a Marlboro Light behind the fence on the pretense of walking the dog...

I failed, though.

Sorry, Little Sis.

Here's what happened....

I literally MEANT to get in a relationship this year.  Honestly, I did.

In spite of what you may have heard from...oh, EVERYONE THAT KNOWS ME, I am not an "Ice Queen", "Ice Princess", or even "Afraid Of My Feelings".

I am simply careful.

CARE-FULL.

FULL OF CARE.

I have a child that is...well, difficult would be an understatement.....check THIS.

The fact is, she had a wonderful father that she was BFFs with -- a father that did everything for her,a father that made her the center of his universe, a father that constantly conspired against my non-materialistic, no soda, no food-coloring, no Red Dye # 5 ways with her allllllllll the time, and made her feel like the most special person in the world.  Which she is, obvs, tied with EJ, SMS, CL, ERH, HGEH, and WJEH.

He died very suddenly.  So quickly, that it was like someone ripping a rug from under her feet.

She isn't over it, none of us are.

So, as much as I would dearly LOVE to be getting regular shagging from someone that I like, respect, and --YES -- love (I AM capable of it, I swear!), I refuse to settle.

I literally can't.

Because I have a little lady that is looking at me, trying to find her place in the world without the person that was her center...

I suppose I could settle for someone that is fun in the sack, someone I have no common interests with, someone that doesn't know how to dig in the dirt, or milk a goat, or scrape chicken shit off his feet every single day, because chickens and farm eggs are the best thing ever.  Someone that doesn't understand that I HAVE to drop everything and run to my friend's house because her sitter cancelled, or her dog got run over, or her boyfriend is a misogynist asshole, or her dishwasher isn't working and I know I can fix it.

I suppose I could settle for someone I can discuss politics, the economy, socialism, fascism, Harry Potter, Batman, Stephen King, South Park, football, baseball, hockey, (but NEVER basketball -- unless we are talking King James), AND The Kardashians, but not be even remotely physically attracted to.

I suppose I could settle....

But, I won't.

It's not like I think I am a prize, BTW.

I am. like, 22 pounds overweight.  I have a double chin that has 2 fluffy stepchildren. Also, my spare tire, love handle, etc, is almost one the verge of outpacing my (glorious -no joke, LOOK at them) boobs.

I have a neck that -- while it hasn't descended into a full-on turkey-wattle-- looks like someone used a wire as a ligature, leaving a giant crease.

My nails are short, broken, and frequently junky-looking, due to my frequent bouts of gardening.

I keep forgetting to dye my hair, which means my Bride of Frankenstein streak pops out at least twice a year.


All of that adds up to this --- here it is, FUCKING JUNE of 2018 and I am still single, in spite of my promises to the contrary.

I don't have a husband, fiancee, boyfriend, FWB, or even a maintenance pal...

And I am totally okay with that.

So you must be as well.


UNLESS you are:

A)  A farmer with goats, chickens, a YOOGE garden, and a propensity for wrinkly fat chicks with greying hair,

OR

B)

SWOON

Monday, March 5, 2018

Slacking Off, Catching Up, and Trying Not to Grow Up or Grow Old!



I totally suck at this 500 words a day (WAD) thing.

I LOOOOVE our group, and I am constantly inspired and impressed by all of the amazing soulful writing these totally rad humans produce.





Then I get on and start blathering about dildos and Jason Momoa and I feel like a vapid moron, so I cast about for something to write on the next post -- something deep and profound -- but, as it turns out, I am neither deep nor profound (also don't think I am a vapid moron, but that could just be wishful thinking).





So I find other things to do that make it so I am too 'busy' to post, and I, cringingly, jump on our group's page and read all the awesome things that make me want to write, all the while waiting for our brave and fearless leader (KH) to catch me commenting and being, like, "MARY, YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH US, YOU AREN'T DOING THE WORK).









Anyway, I have decided I am going to jump back into WAD with, like, 1000 words today and 1000 words tomorrow and then stay caught up at my day-behind status.  And that isn't an oxymoron or even fake news, there -- being a day behind (instead of 3) will make me caught up...to myself. Because neuroses, guys!!





Lately, I have been obsessively thinking about personalities.  My friends all have super diverse personalities, and lately I have been gravitating away from certain personality types and toward others.  Like, certain traits that I found amusing or stimulating or hilarious are now annoying and embarrassing, and vulgar.  And traits that I thought were dull or maybe a little intimidating are now intriguing and fun.





I wonder if it's a sign that I am finally mature?  Like, at 42.5 years, did I suddenly grow up? 

If so, well, it's about fucking time!





Honestly, I don't think I have ever felt like an adult in my life outside of work.  Which is very bizarre, because 8-10 hours of the day I am calm, competent, organized, efficient, and commanding.  As soon as I shrug off my (heinous) uniform, I immediately feel like the awkward teenager that annoys everyone at the family Christmas Dinner.  I get home and am, like, WHHYYYYY do I have to cook?  I'm tired, my feet hurt (probs shouldn't be wearing heels over 3 inches to work, but whatever), and my daughter is the pickiest eater alive, and there are 3 different sushi places, one ramen grill, and a Round Table Pizza within 5 minutes of here, sooooooo. 

Also, laundry.  I don't want to do my laundry....like ever.  Actually, scratch that.  Have no prob doing the laundry, but can someone please come over and fold it and put it away for me???  (Ask your moms, please, I will even pay!) Pleeeaaaassseee???  (also, if you could unload my dishwasher that would be great as well.  Very much enjoy scrubbing dishes clean and loading them up and pushing buttons to make the washer go, but have some kind of mental block about unloading them, so your assistance would be appreciated!)

Also, any time I type a word that has "ass" in it (see above sentence), I always snigger to myself 'har, har, just wrote ass!'

........just realized that it should come as no surprise to me, anyone that knows me, or anyone that reads this just WHY I am a total spinster!..... *sigh*





So.....yeah....guessing maturity is not the culprit for my persnickety ways, and maybe - just possibly - it could be something else....like MENOPAUSE (mental-pause!)?? 

Haha, I feel like I should apologize for this....vaginal dryness.  Kill me now!  :-D




FML





That honestly is not one of the life passages I am looking forward to. 





Retirement?  Sign me UP! 

Completely grey (well, silver actually!) hair?  Yessssss!!  No more dyeing, and I can put fun colors in it without bleaching it to the consistency of sagebrush!

Flowy pants with elastic waistbands and shoes that have 'comfort soles' in the description?  HOORAY!!





Hot flashes, irritability, memory loss, fatigue and diminished sex drive???? Step the fuck off, pal, cos I am NOT EVEN INTERESTED!!









Hopefully it is neither maturity nor menopause and maybe just a sign that I am looking for more out of my relationships than superficial fun.  Maybe I am at the point where I am starting to value substance over style, and I will end up with richer, deeper, more meaningful friendships.





ORRRRRRR, perhaps my reclusive ways have caused me to become boring so I am drawn to boring people.





I'm actually okay with that too, surprisingly.  Or not surprisingly to those of you that find me incredibly dull. There is something to be said for not always being loud and out there and switched on.
Except that I kind of want a boyfriend(more on that tomorrow).....and I am not attractive enough to be boring. My personality is usually what tricks people into thinking I am a 7 and not the 4 I actually am, so if I decided to become as boring as I often feel like being, I am pretty sure I will be single forever, which I am totally ok with.....except when I am not. Like today. And last week, last month, and pretty much all of this year. Since I don't actually know anyone that is compatible BF material, and I definitely would like to be coupled up by the summer (more on that tomorrow), I have to meet some unsuspecting dude and do my Jedi Mind Tricks on him so he overlooks the myriad flaws in my face, body, and personality, and get him to decide I am, like, The One or some shit like that.




All of that probably sounds incredibly needy and probably a touch mercenary, but I swear it's not like that. Seriously. DUDE.





I mean, I guess it could be. I could be in a massive state – like Texas-sized – of denial, how would I even know that if I was? Does anyone in denial ever really know?

But I don't think I am.





Tell you tomorrow.


Here's your apology.  You're welcome.
 

Friday, March 2, 2018

Day 1. Shooting my WAD at the Sex Toy Party

First post of the year.
Back on the 500 Words A Day bus (hence the title).
This one messed with my OCD.  
500 Words A Day for 30 days, would end on March 30, which is not the last day of the month.
If you want it to end when the month does, you have to start on Day 2, which is not right either.....*sigh*

My submission is below:

Why would I pay money to make my ass look like my grandma's couch???







It feels like all of my friends are in direct marketing businesses.
Leggings.
Lipstick.
Various forms of melting air fresheners.
Dildos.

I find the leggings hideous. Like, eye-searingly awful.

I don't wear lipstick. Lipstick feels too waxy and it ends up on my teeth and since people are dumb, I usually don't find out until I have run a thousand errands and talked to that hot guy I am too embarrassed to flirt with and that chick I hate at the mall and your mom.

I like air fresheners. I like nice smells in my house, but I am clumsy and I always smack into them and send the wax flying. Do you know how hard it is to get blue or purple wax out of tan carpet?

Dildos, vibrators, etc are all fine and dandy, but the parties always feel fake and forced to me. My friends, who are usually chill and talk about coffee and kids and existential crises and bills and shit like that are suddenly sexy minxes who introduce themselves and their vaginas alliteratively (that a word?) with stuff like, “Hi, my name is Jen and my vagina is Juicy”, or “Hi, my name is Chris and my vagina is Cute.” 
I can't even.

I hate everyone and all interactions outside of my safe circle, so these parties are agony.

UNTIL.

I am always “on” when I am in social situations.
I get to a party or gathering or whatever, and immediately ramp up the charm and humor until I feel comfortable enough to not sit in the corner by the snacks and try to find an adjective to describe my lady bits that doesn't make me vomit.
I decided on modest.
Which she isn't, but I am not gonna tell any of these suddenly saucy sirens any more about my vagina than I have to.

Inevitably, at the end of these various makeup, waxy smells, dildo, clothes, jewellery, whatever parties, the hostess and her mentor pull me aside and insist I am PERFECT for this kind of thing and need to spend $64000 on a start up kit so I can be part of the TEAM and make enough money to quit my day job (which I happen to be very fond of, so no) and go to conventions and seminars and conferences, OH MY!

Instead, I just spend $200 on sex toys or wax that smells like lavender or the ocean, take a brochure and slink out the door (hitting the snack table on the way).

The problem is that all of these people are now all over social media advertising their wares and their parties and I want to be supportive and help my girls out and buy all their stuff and help them be free of The Man, but I don't want to be broke in a houseful of dildos and ugly leggings with lipstick on my teeth, ironing wax out of my carpet.

Maybe I just need new friends. Or none.



This is just here to make up for the ugly leggings at the top.  You're welcome.

7 Days Later And I Am Fine.

I took a #Facebreak last week. 7 days not on Facebook. I did it because I was tired of dropping my phone on my face when I fell asleep ...