The Internet Has Turned You All Into M*therF****rs. Or, "I Would Rather Be A Giant Panda Than A Member of the (Sub)Human Race"

The internet has turned "human beings" into motherfuckers.  I am serious.

I didn't really realize this until last week, you know.  Is that pathetic?

Up until last week, the interwebs were a fun place for me to go hang out, and the only complaints I had about social media were as follows:

Endless Selfies---yes, mofo, I KNOW wtf you look like at the beach, on a cliff, in the river, in your flipping bathroom [ew. why?], on the lawn in the park, driving down the fucking highway, and at sunset. Enough.  Also, the cryptic captions you write to accompany those selfies make you sound pretentious and foolish, not deep and soulful--and we all know you took, like, 500 pictures, weeded through until you found the one that made you look the super-duper best, and then cast around frantically for a caption that makes you sound deep when, really, you just look shallow as fuck.  Stoppit.  You are pretty.  You are fabulous.  You have Buns of Steel.  But stoppit.  You are not the Van Gogh of cell-phones, so unless you want to chop off an ear and then take a selfie, stoppit.  Now.  Pleaseandthankyou.

So, I don't get this....are you trying to poop?  Looking for your sunglasses? 
Strangling someone?  WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??????

Food pics---some comedian does a bit where he talks about how fucking weird it would have been in the 80s if you had gone to someone's house, and they showed you their photo albums [remember those?] and they were like, "Here's Timmy, and Sally, and Joe, and my smoothie from Tuesday and the pasta I ate last Saturday and my breakfast---gorgeous, eh?"  No lie, you would have never gone back to that morons house again.  I'm not gonna front, guys, I HAVE put a picture of the MAGICAL SEAFOOD TOWER from the Vail Chophouse, both on my Facebook page and in this blog, but come on.......

Mother. Of. God.

that is just magic....and some super hot dude with a Visa Black card may just read this blog and decide that this little meatball deserves to be whisked off to Vail for a weekend of sex, shopping (in a store, ya'll-that's no metaphor!), and seafood towers.  What?  It could happen....hater.  The rest of the time, though.....quit posting everything you eat on the interwebs--it's rude to fatties that are trying to exist off of kale, water, and despair.  Seriously, you are ruining my diet!!!  And, it's boring.  And, you are no Carl Warner.

Memes---do you know how many minutes of my life I have wasted looking at this:

I LOVE Bad Luck Brian!!

or this:



If I die laughing at this cat, I know it would make him happy!

or this:

Haaaaaaaaaaahahahaaa!!  Mexicans!!

The only consolation for the immeasurable hours of my life I will never recover is that I usually laugh my ass off until I am crying---so, you know, AB WORKOUT!!!  Woo-hooo!!!  But seriously, enough.  Go figure out how to cure cancer, go volunteer at an animal shelter or a retirement home or a homeless shelter.  Quit making that shit.  Because I could be out volunteering, or gardening, or writing.  Instead, I am hunting online for shit like this:

Happens a lot.....

laughing until my stomach muscles seize up, and then realizing I just lost 45 minutes of my life, when 2 minutes of crunches would have done the same thing, plus I would have had 43 minutes for something constructive.


So, yeah, sometimes shit online annoys me, but it never made me want to move to the forest and build a mud hut and hide from all the motherfuckers. Until now.  Because they are everywhere.  And, thanks to the fact that this is all happening at a distance, said motherfuckers say anything they want.  And what they want to say is completely embarrassing as a fellow human being.  Like, seriously, I am embarrassed to be a person.  I would rather be a damn Giant Panda.  And giant pandas are the dumbest fucking animals on the planet.  For serious, guys...GTS.  You will get about 400 thousand results in 2.2 seconds on how dumb pandas are.  I would rather be a member of an ursine race, destined to become extinct because they are literally too fucking dumb to stay alive, than claim any form of kinship with the motherfuckers online.

What brought this epiphany on was a double-whammy -- and not the good kind that one could find at TC's place on a Saturday night, mind -- of suckiness that happened online last week that I was unable to avoid. 

Motherfuckers Strike 1:  The Ashley Judd Incident.  Ashley Judd tweets that the team opposing her beloved Wildcats is playing dirty, and immediately she is called every filthy name in the book, is told she should be raped in pretty much every orifice one can fit a dick into, and threatened with numerous other violent acts, both sexual and non.  If some random college dude had tweeted that shit, his friends would have called him a pansy, asked him to change his tampon, and there would have been no more discussion.  Instead, because Ashley Judd is famous, or maybe because she is a woman, or maybe because she is a famous woman, shit got pretty ugly and out of control.  This is a human being, you guys.  A woman that, regardless of her fame, has family and friends that she laughs with, she probably has cried herself to sleep over some rotten dude just as many times as you have, she has bad hair days and may even bite her nails, for all I know.  She loves animals and campaigns tirelessly for the rights of others.  She is a person, and a member of the human race, just like all of us.

You tell 'em, girl!!  xoxo

In the heat of the moment, in a goddamned sporting event where tempers flare constantly, she made a remark that got the lowest, filthiest, most disgusting comments from what  I am going to guess are random people who probably don't normally act that way, and would definitely kill anyone that talked to their mamas like that.....Is it because she is famous?  And, if so, how does she deserve that?  Where in the fucking Manual of Humankind does it say that celebrities deserve  to be vilified??  Because they have more money than you?  More success than you?  Because they are public figures, so they are somehow asking to have people suggest various items be shoved up their rectum because they had an opinion about college fucking basketball???  Are you serious here, people?  That is bullshit!!!!  Even the Kardashians don't deserve to be treated that way.  Let's see you turn your shitty sex tape into a multi-billion dollar conglomerate....Can't do it?  Oh well, don't hate.  Here's the thing, guys, you don't HAVE to watch their TV shows, you don't have to buy the magazines with them on the cover, you don't have to click on the articles.....shut the fuck up and focus your energy somewhere else.  Do I make fun of celebrities or joke about them from time to time....um, yeah.  Have I ever or would I ever rain shit and hate and vulgarity on them for any reason?  Um...no.  Because I am not a motherfucker.  I am a giant panda, or at least I would rather be one.  You remember Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back where they got a bunch of money from their movie and they went around the country and curb-stomped all the motherfuckers that talked shit about them online?  Well, the Ashley Judd Incident made me want to do that when I finally sell my movie---you know, the one where I make out with Ryan Gosling.  But I probably won't.  I'm  too lazy, and the motherfuckers aren't worth it, so I will probably end up hanging out with giant pandas, trying to get them to eat BLT's and spiking their ponds with Cialis.....
PS - exemption to the above?  These guys.  FUCK these guys.  They suck.  Hate on them at will.

Just to be part of this club you have to be a morally bankrupt lying motherfucker. 
Check the facts, these "people" are full of shit, so haters....go on, hate!

Motherfuckers Strike 2.  The Shirt That Shook The Motherfucker's Minds.  There was a shirt on the interweb that, apparently, got people all up in arms.  And by 'people' I mean 'motherfuckers'.  And by 'up in arms', I mean 'acting like a bunch of stupid motherfuckers'. 
Look:

Do you even know what a thigh is, baby?  Didn't think so.

This onesie, and the hissy fits that swept the interweb after caused the dumbest phrase I have ever read in my entire life to be typed by some stupid motherfucker somewhere.... 

"baby fat-shaming"

......Seriously, that is a thing now?  What the fuck is wrong with people?  Babies are fat, you fools!!  They should be fat, they are growing!  They should be fat, they are building brain cells and learning motor skills and how to talk and shit.  A fat baby is a healthy baby, you numb-nuts, so how could anyone "fat-shame" a baby???  Also, babies are dumb!!!!  Last time I checked, they could not read, or talk, or even understand if you said, "Jeez, fatty, lay off the tits and get on a treadmill, why don't you?".  Seriously.  You could say that to a baby in that moronic, gushy, coo-coo voice with a big cheeser grin on your face, and any baby would probably just laugh and laugh and smile.  Because they are dumb little morons that just want hugs and kisses and boobs.....and the male ones never grow out of that, guys.  Never. 

Seriously....how many of you with penises will remember ANYTHING about this post besides Katy Perry's fun-bags?

 Also, those bald little diaper-fillers HAVE NO SHAME!!  They will shit and puke and fart and cry anytime, anyplace, anywhere--they do not care.  They sit around all day yelling and demanding food and walks around and around the house and rocking and cooing and cuddling, and they reward you with it by drooling on your clothes, 'spitting up' (which is a non-baby-shaming-way of saying 'vomiting half-digested breast milk down your front'), crapping in their diapers 50X a day, peeing everywhere, and refusing to sleep for more than 3 damned hours at a time, which means you can't sleep for more than 3 hours at a time.  And, did you know, that sleep-deprivation is a torture technique used on war prisoners???    But those fatsos get away with it....because they are babies.  So, fuck you for saying that babies could possibly be "fat-shamed" you stupid internet motherfucker.  Seriously.  Also, any company that is called "Wry Baby" should probably not be taken seriously enough to warrant you guys having tantrums over what their products say.  Read a fucking dictionary before you start your ridiculous whining over their wares.

Is he crying because he has been fat-shamed ?  Or is he ashamed of you inventing the word?  Ask him. 
Oh, wait, HE CAN'T TALK!!  Or read.  Go away.

Whew!!  All done.  But now, do you even see why I would rather be a Giant Panda?  Because, to me, this:

beats this:

any day of the week.


So, this much serious ranting is a little unusual for me.  I had a 3rd thing from the World Wide Wankfest I was going to talk about, which included a discussion about me looking like a snowman when I am naked, the rave reviews my tits garner on a regular basis, and why you are what you wear.  But this much hyperventilating and furious typing makes me need food.  Or Caffeine.  Which means I gotta get up, and once I do that...I won't be back for a few hours. 

Miss Veronica over at GrownUpTantrums can do this shit allllllllllll day, but I am old, chunky, and my blood sugar is dropping so, peace out, guys.  Try not to be motherfuckers, okay?


This would, normally be where I post a picture of Ryan Gosling, but somehow that feels wrong. In honor of my prolific use of the word 'Motherfuckers' today........Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you one Bad Ass Motherfucker:

Say "baby-fat-shaming" ONE more time, motherfuckers!

Cheers!!  Wankers!!!

Enough is Enough. I. Give. Up. An Ode To Walking Away.

 

 

Helllloooooooo, there!

Yes, yes, I am back.  If you will notice, there was no "Day-Who-Gives-A-Fuck" title on my post.  The reason for that, if you haven't already guessed is that I gave up on that 30 Day Blog Challenge.

Now before anyone starts quoting Vince Lombardi at me....shut the fuck up before I throw a shoe at you. 

Or do this.....

I had perfectly good reason for quitting and it is this:


It was pissing me off.


And, yes, I know all the bullshit platitudes people like to mouth about quitting;  I get it.  But that only applies to quitting ignorant, destructive, or lazy behaviors.  It only applies if you are Thomas Edison, inventing shit that will revolutionize the damned world.  It only applies of you are an athlete, an author, or someone that is chasing a dream.



Except when quitting makes you win....

It certainly did not apply to me in regards to that 30-day blog challenge, and here is why:


I can only tell you guys my thoughts, my truths, and my stories.  I did tell ya'll the Story of the Three Bimbos; it wasn't entirely my story, so I used initials.  I also knew that the people the story was about would probably not mind.  Because it is a friggin' love story.

I can't tell you the stories that are not mine because it isn't fair, and it isn't right, and it could induce a motherfucker to up and sue me after I am famous and on the Today Show talking about how I wrote a hilarious screenplay and made sure there was a make-out scene between me and Ryan Gosling in it.



You will notice that I went flying through January, posting frequently and churning out posts like buttah.  All of a sudden....

Big. Huge. Gap.

 


The reason for that, was that I had to write a blog post about something that did not just involve me, but family members.  And it did not exactly portray everyone in the best light.  So, yeah, I struggled, prevaricated, edited, deleted, changed the 'angle', etc.  Eventually, though, I wrote it.  (And, I can assure you all, as soon as I can get someone from CAA, ICM, or WME to offer me a contract, that damn post is coming right down, because my family would have no qualms about taking me to court and asking for my money.  Fa realz.)  Then I wrote a few more.  Until....

Big. Huge. Gap.

 

 

Another post that wanted me to talk to, and thus reveal things about, people who are not me.  I decided to skip it, and re-visit it later.  The next post asked for the same thing.  And so did the next one.  So, I went and wrote other stuff and told myself, in the words of the magnificent Scarlett O'Hara

But I missed this blog.  And, apparently, some of you did as well which I totally appreciate.  BIG HUG.



I kept trying and trying and every time I sat down and logged in here, I got annoyed and stressed out.  So I logged back out and wrote something else.



During that time, something similar was happening in another area of my life.  You see, in January I took a part-time job.  The job paid enough that I could live comfortably and still have time to so some volunteer work and get a little more involved at Lexi's school.  After 3 days, part-time turned to full-time-plus-a-bit-more, and the nature of the job changed, and the fun level went down.  Weeks ticked by where, every morning, I though, "UGH!  I just do NOT want to go to work!".  Those of you that know me know how much I usually love my job, and how I spend too much time at work, and always have more fun than anyone at work.  This job was not like that.  Not one fucking bit.

Every. Day.

I stayed because I told myself it would get better, the job would be more fun, and because I kept hearing about these exciting new changes that were on the horizon.  Still, every day I had to force myself to go there.  Once I got there, I would have some fun, there were a handful of totally amazing people that I loved seeing and talking to every day.  But the job itself?  It sucked, and it was impossible to get anything done because there were no rules, no policies, no procedures, and my boss exhibited some behaviors that made me want to spike the water cooler with Xanax so she could be the same person for 8 straight hours.  For real.  I told myself, 'Wait until your 90-day review. Then you can talk about your job tasks, your hours, and the money you are(n't) making.' (I took the job for an acceptable amount of money for part-time work--not what I am worth!)



Finally, I thought about it and realized, why shouldn't I quit?  I have let people go when I felt they weren't a good fit, and these guys certainly would have let me go if I wasn't as completely awesome as I, in fact, am; so why should I stay?  I hated that job....

Would rather have done this.  

Putting in my 2-week notice made me feel like I had lost about 20 pounds (I wish!).  I started getting super excited about my new job and thinking about decorating my office and all the fun things we could get done there--which is exactly how you want to feel about your job, right?

Same thing with the Blog Challenge.  I can't tell stories or reveal details about other people's lives, especially if it makes them look like the totally phony, sanctimonious, criminally egotistical jerkoffs they are.  I can't tell you what the worst thing I have ever done to another person, because it would involve me telling you someone else's story and putting their life on display in a way they never signed up for.  So I said to myself, 'Fuck it!  I'm done with it, I am going to write what I want to write.', and **boom!** here I am, fingers flying over the keyboard totally stoked about writing this super-fun blog!

C'est moi!

As I was looking for quotes about 'quitting', and trying to find funny things to say about it, I started thinking about things we don't quit, things we do quit, and what causes us to refuse to walk away from things that no longer benefit us. 

I know people (I was one of those for two whole years, so no judgies, kids!) who will keep trying and trying and trying to make a relationship work because they 'love' that person, or they love the person's kids, or they can't accept that that they have spent years of their life with the wrong person.  I just don't get that.  I mean, I did that, but as soon as I made the decision to bail, I was like "Wooooo-hooooooo!", and I skipped off into the sunset. 

Bye, fucker!

I know people that smoked and smoked and smoked a million cigarettes until the day they decided to quit and *poof* they quit.  Said it was the best thing they ever did.  They never felt better.  Had no desire to ever smoke again.  I also know people that quit every month or so, get crabby and gain 10 pounds, then go out and cram an entire pack of cigarettes in their mouths, set it on fire, and just iiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaalllleeee.  (Don't effing judge me!)

All better!

I can use the same type of examples for people who can and can't quit drinking, drugging, smacking their spouses or children around, yet I really don't know what separates the people that can quit from the people that can't. 
It's not intelligence. 
Not entirely willpower. 
So, what is it?
For me, it was just enough.  E Fucking. Nough. 

So, maybe that's all it is.  Just finally getting to the point where you say 'My happiness is worth more than this.  I am worth more than this.  I'm out.  I quit.'


Let me tell you, it feels gooooooood!!


Probably not as good as this:

*sigh*

 



But you can't have everything, now can you?







Ya'll come back now, ya hear?



Stay tuned, ya'll, tomorrow I am going to be writing about how social media--Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and YES, blogging has turned everyone into fucking morons.  Also, I will be talking about being naked.

I will tell you all about it tomorrow!

Day Something Or Other - 10 Ways To Win Your Heart

10 Ways To Win Your (My, Apparently) Heart


Hooray!!!  FINALLY a post that asks for fun and games and not me ripping my soul to shreds for  about 30-odd people per post!!! (although I am immensely grateful to each and every one of you for reading them! xoxo)

;)

Now, hopefully, this ends up being a "How-To" manual for Ryan Gosling or similar super-hot scrumdiddlyumptious non-felon sex-maniacs with American Express Centurion cards .



Knowing my luck, scores of schmucks that currently reside in their mom's basement and strip while wearing one of their nephew's cast-off Halloween costumes will be blowing up my Facebook page with declarations of love, but whatever....just another Thursday, right?

That's how I look when I am turned on too, Pheebs!

ANYway.....here are 10 ways to win the heart of a formerly adorable redhead, who is now a just-over-the-brink-of-middle-aged-chubby-Snark-oleptic-wrinkly-glitter-headed-single-mom (wow---what a catch; the Match.com ad writes itself!).



1.  Don't be a dumbass.  Smart ass, yes please; dumb-ass---thank you, drive through.  We all know -- or should by now -- that I LOVE me some geeks!!!  You gotta have something going on upstairs if you want me to hang out with you downstairs....or some other slightly less chi-mo sounding smart = sex analogy.  If you can't have an intelligent conversation with me about current events, politics, books, sports, or anything besides your net worth or how many calories you don't consume in a day, keep on truckin' Joe-Bob, I am sure there is some soap-fan waiting for you to sweep her off her feet.

No need to caption.....although I just did!

2.  Be funny.  And, I don't mean, 'dick-joke-funny'.  Yes, jokes about small dicks and ugly dicks, and guys that are hung like a tuna can are HILARIOUS, but if your sense of humor starts and stops in the 6th grade, well, you can go fuck yourself....if you can find it, that is.  A big fan of sarcasm, irony, and South Park am I.  And if you can't laugh at yourself, then you better grow a bigger penis (or self-esteem--aren't they the same in Man-ville?), because I will sure as hell be laughing your dull ass right out the door.

This will NEVER get you laid....N.E.V.E.R.!!!

3.  Be big.  And that, my friends, is no dick joke.  That is no euphemism, simile, or metaphor  (ps - if you had to GTS on ANY of those words, you may as well stop reading.  No, seriously, buh-bye!), that is literally how you must be.  I have a straight-up Napoleon Complex....or maybe a Dorothy Parker Complex (she was 4'11"!!!!), and I think I am 10 feet tall and bulletproof....I have only dated a few guys that were not 'stocky' or 'big-boned', and I seriously cant imagine doing so ever again....BTW, both of the numbskull-gobshites that I regret dating were under 5'8" and under 180 lbs....so there is that as well.


http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/news/a35545/reasons-sleeping-with-a-husky-guy-is-the-best/

 It would help if you were big AND Mr. Big!!!

4.  Like being outside.  I cannot understand city people, even though I tried being one for years, until I realized I am and always will be a hippie Ridge-girl at heart.  Every morning--rain, shine, below freezing, or baking hot-- I have to go outside and walk in the dirt and grass and leaves; barefoot, of course.  I have an absolute need to dig in the dirt, roam through the woods, climb trees, and lay under the great big sky.  I can't even fathom a life lived between an office, a high-rise, and a series of restaurants and cafes--no matter how much I wish I was Samantha Jones.  There is a part of me that is so at home baking on a rock by the river, or wading a freezing lake.  Chlorinated swimming pools and hot tubs make me want to throw up.  I need to be able to smell fresh air, get my feet dirty, and pick flowers for my hair....and if you can't at least hang for the hike....well, gg-gga-ggiga-gggooodnight, yo. 

This would have been bare feet in the woods, but you know how I feel about that.....

5.  Know how to fix shit.  If you have appliance repairmen, painters, roofers, landscapers, and carpenters that handle your problems, we cant hang.  I draw the line at plumbing and electrical problems---you are a dumbass if you try to DIY that--but, if you have to call someone to take apart your washer or dryer, call someone to unclog your garbage disposal because your mother-in-law ran potato peelings down it on Thanksgiving, call someone to level your backyard and plant grass, or call someone to repaint your house....well, I am not gonna respect you; in the morning or any other time of the day.  I am a self-taught Miss (Ms, at my age, I guess...booh!) Fix It, and I can't really respect (i.e., go shopping with) a man that has to rely on another man to keep his house in line.  YES, you could probably find better things to do with your time, but if we are stuck in the middle of nowhere and you have to call AAA because you can't tell a lugnut from your left nut, I can guarantee you are dropping me at my house and never picking me up again.  I can, and have, changed tires in the rain and snow, put chains on my own tires, and the tires of the lady next to me in the minivan, replaced a serpentine belt in the middle of the night on a road 20 miles from the nearest streetlight with a flashlight tucked under my chin, and I expect any man I hang out with to do the same....except the serpentine belt thing; that is SUPER hard, and man-hands do not help--trust me, I have 2 of them!



Yes, please!




6.  Be good in bed.  Do I NEED to explain this?  I'm going to abridge this, because I am secretly a prude about some things (no, for real!).  Here's some advice, and I'm gonna do this fast because otherwise I will chicken out:

A-clitoris-is-not-a-worry-bead-don't-rub-it-into-oblivion-you-have-hips-for-a-reason-figure-out-that-they-go-more-than-two-directions-probing-tonsils-with-your-tongue-is-not-a-kiss-a-well-timed-smack-on-the-ass-is-a-good-thing-slow-and-steady-wins-the-race-but-sometimes-hard-and-fast-does-the-trick-we-like-nooners-and-quickies-as-much-as-you-do-and-being-on-top-makes-things-better.  Whew!  Got all that, 'cause I am not repeating it (unless you are Matt Damon, and then I am afraid I must keep you after class for Remedial Lessons!).

You're doing it right.....

7.  You can be sensitive, but DO NOT FUCKING CRY!!!  Good. Lord.  who was it that told men they should get in touch with their feelings and cry???  Look, if you are (ew!) watching a child come into the world, feel free to turn on the waterworks.  Lost a family member?  Cry away, my friend, I will even lend you a tissue, and cry along with you.  Pet crossed the Rainbow Bridge without you?  I will let you weep all over my shoulder.  However.   If we are having a disagreement and you think it's all over...well, you can be sad, sure.  If you are boo-hooing around the house, yammering on about how Mummy never loved you enough, if you are tearing up because you think it makes you look sensitive, or you are sobbing over some shit that won't matter in five years...well, in the words of the totally rad Richard Pryor (as quoted by the amazing Eddie Murphy), I am gonna tell you to have a 'Coke and a smile and shut the fuck up'.  You know how guys get all out of sorts when women cry and feel guilty and bad and ready to do anything to dry her tears and make it stop?  Well, it's the same thing for me.  Without the guilt and the doing anything.  I will hand you a tampon, a Kleenex, and show you the door.  The. End.

Ugly Cry Face Knows NO Gender.

8.  Read.  I don't care if it is instruction manuals (chuh! right!), Chilton Repair Guides, Playboy (for the articles, yo), or even Motor Trend.  Just. Read.  Because reading is rad.  And I don't really need to qualify this.



Truth.

9. DO NOT let me walk all over you.  I am an exceptionally stubborn, headstrong person....if you were too dumb to notice that, well, I can't help you.  I am smarter than most people, more articulate than everyone, and am a walking talking (but humble, obvi!) bulldozer.  Most men think, "Well, if I let her have her way and shut up, she will like that."  Wrong.  Dumb Ass.  I actually need to be shut down periodically.  I actually like being told to calm the fuck down.  I actually want someone to not say 'How high' when I snap my fingers and say 'Jump'.  Clearly, if it's important to me, I expect you to drink a long, tall glass of shut-the-hell-up and let me do me....If you throw yourself on the ground and say, "Yes, ma'am, I will do whatever you want, whenever you want", I will - of course - pat you on the head and coo over how totally adorbs you are.  I may also take you shopping a time or two.  In the long run, however, you will find yourself face-down in the dirt, with me carefully wiping my feet in your hair (if you expected me to say 'on your back', that is wrong, your hair is a much better medium than your T-shirt for getting the BS off my stilettos!!).  I don't want, need, or wish to waste my prodigious Kung Foo skills on some caveman that tries to impose his will on me....that doesn't mean I want some flaccid, spineless whelk blobbing around in my orbit, kissing my ass all the time.  Figure it out, you aren't an idiot! (See #1)


Yeah...that'll help....

10.  If this is you, below, (or you are TC) none of the above rules apply.  Line forms to the right......




Yep!

Uh-huh.

Of course!



              

*sssssssssiiiiiiiiigggggggghhhhhhhhhh* We have a WINNER!!!





Day Whatever - Things You Want To Say To 5 Different People

Things You Want To Say To 5 Different People

 

 

 

 
 
  This could be fun......the possibilities for a full-on bitchfest are eeeeeennnddlleeesssssssssss!  

 

However, I am trying to keep my words and deeds a little less snarky and a lot more sappy this year, ok? 

Wait....that can't be right?

 

 

 

So, here are the 5 lucky people, ALL of whom I am going to use aliases for, so as not to share their biz-nazzz all over the interwebs.

 

#1.  ELJ.
This is hard....what do you say to someone that you think is the most special, amazing, awesome person on the planet?  Every time I look at you, I think "You. Are. Here."  And how amazing is that?  You overcame so many obstacles from the minute you took your first shaky breath on lungs that barely worked.  You came.  You saw. And you are kicking ass at life.  What more can any person ask for in someone they love to the point of insanity?  As I watch you on your journey, I am struck with wonder at all that you are.  You have created yourself from yourself.  I have watched your parents bumble, fumble, and utterly screw up at parenting you, yet you have turned into the most marvelous, amazing, joyful, cynical, hilarious, adventurous soul I have ever had the good fortune to meet. 



Always
 


 You should know that I think about you when I am falling asleep, sending you loving thoughts and peaceful vibes to have good dreams that make you rested and fulfilled when you wake up.  I think about you when I wake up, and wish you safe days full of adventure, knowledge, and fun.  When I am far away from you, I wish on stars that your life will be filled with beautiful experiences and endless love.  Sunsets on the beach, sunrises in the mountains; you are always with me.  Am I the best friend/role model/advice-giver ever?  Nope.  I am probably very low on your list of influential people in your life and heart, and I deserve that.  Just know that most of the steps I take in life, you are walking with me...not holding my hand---totally not your style!---but in the quiet moments, where I have pause to think about how lovely the world is, you are right there with my heart in your hands.  I am not sure what random, magical, purposeful, pre-ordained, unplanned acts of the universe led to me being able to meet you, but here you are. 




Yep


 You are here, and I am so grateful to be an observer on your journey.




#2. SH.
Yeah, um, how are we even alive? 
 The best thing about lifelong friends is you can say things to them like this:
"I won your divorce on the radio"
Your Dodge Dart
Posing in the Giant Chair.
26/62
GET ON THE BUS
Ooooops!!! Sorry I walked in on that!


And they will immediately know what you are talking about---even better, they will immediately bust out into the warmest, richest, most hilariously infectious laugh the world has ever heard, because they know the whole damn story from "Once up upon a time..." to "...and they lived interestingly ever after".  Ohhhhh, my dear, how I love you.  Can't even count the ways, because there aren't enough numbers.  When I met you, I was not sure I would like you---mainly because pervy Bob used YOU as an excuse for shaming me  for not hugging him whenever he tried.. But we got through that, didn't we?  We also got through an AMAZING number of goofy men....John, Justin, Todd, Vince, LUDO!! LOUIS, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, (did I mention all the Jim's???) and...wait, WHAT was his name??  You and I have come through the fire together, and we STILL LOOK FABULOUS!!!  I love you forever, precious, and I am so glad I had you to lean on (mostly because I was drunk) and that you could lean on me (when I was wearing flats)! xoxox  BFF, baby!



US



#3. SLJ
I guess, when someone saves your life, you say "Thank You."  Right?  Well, what exactly do you say to someone that saves your soul?  What do you say to someone that stops you when you are actively slapping layers of concrete on your heart so it can stop breaking all the time, and puts their hands around it, and holds it ever so gently until it begins to heal and beat on its own again?  "Thank You" seems so inadequate....

When I met you, I was a confused, abused, scared angry kid.  You helped me in so many ways, so many different times.  Your irrepressible optimism, your unwavering faith in a better day, and your unquenchable patience and love was the rope I used to climb out of the hole that I started in.   People talk about 'the light at the end of the tunnel' for near-death experiences....have I ever been near death?  Not sure.  I just know that every single time that tunnel got really dark, every time I was in despair and wondering what I was worth, I got a light.  It was YOU, with your great heart, holding the lamp high so I could keep going. 

This is you....

You have given so much love to the person I love best in this world, and the fact that you two have such a special, loving friendship eases my heart when I worry about the both of you.  No one knows the many times I have poured my heart out to you, or the  times you have confided in me things I will take to the grave.  I wish the whole world could know what great love you have in your heart and how brightly it shines in mine every single day.  I don't write you or call you (or email, Facebook, Twitter, or text you) as much as your real family does, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, pray for you, wish great things to you, or send you all the love I can as much as I am able.  In my life you have been a role model, a hero, a wise advice-giver, a shoulder to cry on, a friend, a hand up, and a heart that held me close.  So, dear friend, I say this to you:

Danke.
Mahalo.
Arigato.
Merci.
Grazie.
Ahsante.

And, more importantly...

Ich Liebe Dich
Aloha wau ia oi
Aishiteru
Je t`aime
 Ti amo
Ninapenda wewe

This applies to all 4 of you ladies in this blog....but not you, TC...sorry!

#4  TKS
So, I know you read this blog....and I am a tiny bit surprised about it, but not too much.  You and I are as about different as night and day in every way imaginable.  Except the most important way, the best, brightest, and most fabulous way that people can be the same, and that is that our hearts all love unconditionally. 

 You have a belief system that could cause you to shun, judge, and turn your back on me, yet all I have ever received from you is the unconditional love of one friend to another.  You have been at my side since I was nearly a child, maybe being surprised at finding me in the same place you were, but always accepting me for who I was.  When the universe smashed my heart into a thousand pieces, you offered me your heart and hand in friendship.  I danced at your wedding reception with my husband, and hugged you with joy, even though our married lives were like apples and oranges, and our experiences should have divided us....whenever anyone speaks of religious intolerance I think of you.  Because you epitomize all that is love and tolerance and caring and sharing to everyone you meet---no matter their beliefs.    Loving, "mom-ing", caring, and just being yourself.  You have been my friend for a thousand years, it seems to me (or, ONLY ALMOST 24 YEARS in Lexi-speak!), only because I know every time I see you, it will be as if not one thing has changed, and we are still hugging because we won (GO MINERS!), or hugging because we lost, or hugging because the unimaginable happened, or hugging from joy....always joy with you, dearest  TK(S), always joy.  xoxo

#5 TC
Oh, you....Dear, dear handsome, funny, interesting love of mine.  Yep, I just said it...I love you.  Interesting how that works out, though.  I love you, but that doesn't mean you love me back.  Nor does it mean that the last 7+ years you and I have spent revolving in each others orbits means a damn thing.  The funny thing about you is that I thought I was immune to you and your rather...unique charms.  We tried dating for a bit, and it did not work, for too many reasons to list even though I really thought I wanted it to.  So, I really thought I was okay with our sort of halfway-whatever-you-want-to-call-it-thing.   Then, a few things happened, and I had to wonder if the periodic, fleeting fun we had together was worth me dying a tiny bit every time I realized that what we had was nothing to you.....

I wish.....

The first was, you sent me a message about me not seeing you recently, and you said this "You treated me poorly so we quit seeing each other... not my fault I still have feelings"  And I thought about that...did I really treat you THAT poorly?  I know I used to rub your feet after work, and everyone knows---or should know---how I feel about feet--- but if they know that, then maybe they know how I feel about you.  I know I tried to make you chicken and dumplings because you said you liked it, even though I LOATHE "American-home-cookin", and your only response was to complain about the fact that I used bone-in-meat (Goooooo Southern Living Magazine!), even though I didn't know that....but I also know I pushed you away, prevaricated, was ambivalent, and as unemotional as I could be....so, yes, I probably did treat you badly.  But I didn't mean to, and if I had any idea that my being totally casual would have hurt you (and, you must admit you were a bit unobtainable yourself),  I would have offered you my heart and soul (boneless, of course) on a platter. 




If only....




 My 2nd favorite blogger in the entire world wrote a post the other day (you can find it here <click!), and even though you weren't the only ex I am friends with, and certainly not the one I preached to her about, I thought about you when I read it.  Until I realized there is no way on the whole world I could ever be just friends with you...because I love you.  So much, that I absolutely had to give you up, since we are clearly not right for each other.  This isn't a Nora Ephron flick, this is my life.  So, seemingly insurmountable differences are just that.  That pains me a lot, you know.  I kind of thought we would exist in this quasi-relationship-type-scenario until one of us got married (not to each other, obviously), and then it would be over.  Then I realized, I have no chance of marrying anyone....even falling in love with someone, until I face up to the fact that you and I are over.  And should be over. Will I love anyone as much as I (think) I loved you?  Maybe not.  Do I wish things had worked out differently between us?  Well, duh!  I will regret you forever.  I won't regret letting you pick up on me---and you know you did!  I won't regret the time we actually dated---although I do regret that you think I treated you 'poorly'.  I won't regret the last 7+ years of ...well, whatever you call what we did.  Nor will I regret saying this---
I  love you. 
I am sorry. 
I will always regret that it didn't work. 
Always.
Do you think it hurts when you prune or thin plants?  I never thought about that before you, I just know that cutting back makes them stronger, and makes them bloom and fruit better...so that's what I wish you, WP, TC, BFG...Strong and fruitful days ahead of you....
Love,
me.

You lit me up like this.....  :)

OUCH!!!  That HURT, ya'll!!!  But, it felt good and honest, which is what this whole experiment is about.....

There are many people I thought about writing 5 things to....Nicole P-J, Nichole, Aubrey, Connor, Mikey, Kimberly, Nicole L., Helena, Jen-bug, Jason M-W, Fan, Nomers, Chloe, Dahlia, Monique, and forever ANN....so I just wrote off the top of my head.  I hope you guys know that I haven't even BEGUN to tell you  things, and I hope you always want to listen....

xoxo


PS - Just TOTALLY realized I forgot THE most important person on the whole wide world----

Meeeeeeeeeee-owwwwwwwwww.  That's it.
 

Ahem.  Dear Ryan Gosling:
Dooooooooooooooode...I am chubby, wrinkly, and have TONS of grey hair---how do you NOT have my #???????


heehee.