Heat Waves

I am back on Song Titles as Blog Titles because movie titles don't do the trick. 🤷

Soooo, I have very clearly detailed all of my awful "dating-app first dates".

So many so, that I have had a few of you ask me if I am ok.

The answer to that is YES.

YES

Yes, yes, YES.

I didn't go on Tinder to find a husband, a boyfriend, or anything other than...

?

Plainly put, I went on Tinder to find a FWB that would not cause me to lose any more friends because it sucks to have to end friendships because too many lines were crossed.

Far better to make new friends with the express purpose of...benefits with no strings, yeah?

YAWL...In spite of all of my previous "swing and a miss" stories...

I hit the jackpot.

Like, CHING, CHING!!

Stacks on stacks

I know I have previously detailed my atrocious first dates and bad matches, and it makes for great comedy.

I like it when things are funny.

Funny takes feelings out of the equation.

I can do funny allllll day long.

Feelings?

NYET.

Not so much.

So, when I have a Tinder experience that is gorgeous and fun and alllllll the things everyone on Tinder that doesn't want to get married (NO MARRIAGE!, as gorgeous G once wrote me when I asked what his Tinder goals were-more on him next week), I don't want to share it because I am better talking about my disasters than my success.

However, "M" needs to be celebrated, just so you singletons can grok that - every once in a while - you can hit 'pay dirt' on a dating app.

I already disclosed that I quit Tinder and have 3 humans I still talk to.

2 of them are really fun to chat with and we talk about all sorts of wild, improbable things that will, most likely, have no bearing on any of our real lives.

The third..."M".

Oh, boy.

Tinder opened my eyes about a lot of things.

Everyone lies about their height, weight, and hair follicles.

Everyone eats ass.  (I know, I know...*CRINGE*)  This has to be said, though, because it comes up alllllll the time and is part of the reason I dipped out on that app.

Like, WHAT????

Also, everyone is ENM.

ENM.

I learned that phrase in December.

It means, "Ethically Non-Monogamous".

To me, in my rather adventurous 20's, that just meant sleeping with anyone you fancied and calling it 'just for fun'.

Or, "I like that you bleached your hair so you look like a Wal-Mart Eminem, so Imma bone you but also never call you again."

These dudes are the same when wearing beer goggles. JS.

Nowadays, it means that you have multiple relationships that have nothing to do with the others, but it is done very respectfully in terms of emotions, safety, and boundaries.

I ignored all ENM people until, in March of this year, then I met 2 people that interested me to the point that I swiped the good way, in spite of the ENM tag.

Guy 1 was adorable, sweet, and funny.  Unfortunately, he bore such an uncanny resemblance to the love of my life, that I had to explain my problem and delete him.  I mean...If I can't have my LD, why would I ever settle for a pale imitation?  Nope!

Guy 2 was "M".  Gorgeous, funny, sardonic, and actually used the word 'sapiosexual' in his profile.

LIKE, SWIPE ALLLLL THE CORRECT DIRECTIONS FOREVER!!

We messaged and then texted and talked and talked.

We decided to meet on a Wednesday at 7.  After a very adorable day-of-the-month mix-up, of course, because I can't have nice fucking things - right? - we met up.

It was one of the first gorgeous Springtime PNW evenings.  Sunset, soft air, birds, etc.

We meet at the cutest bar in NoPo.

There was banter, and laughing, and pool, and craft cocktails.  

Hot bartender that recommended the best pizza anyone ate in April 2021, and she was hyper-vigilant about masks, so I wanted to marry her in spite of my not being a lesbian.

ANYway...

There was kissing and hand-holding and some earlobe interaction...  I mean, that kind of thing can happen to anyone, anywhere, yeah?

Also, there was an epic goodbye kiss that lasted for about 200 years - or 20 minutes - they can sometimes feel the same.

Literally the best first date with a stranger that anyone ever had on the planet.

Like, I got home and IMMEDIATELY messaged him. 

 I never do that.

Not because I play it cool...as if!!  Have you even met me??

Simply because I just don't ever do all the things that make dating NOT awkward if given the chance.

In fact...

The opposite.

However...this time?

I went to bed buzzy and kind of goofy, and I made sure he knew about it.  He was super appropriate and - dare I say it? - sweet and very into the whole vibe.

It was quite swoony to be honest.

There is no way I can caption this without making it a cringe-fest, so let's just not say a f*cking thing.  The sentiment was real AF tho!

Like, SWOON, swoony.

Work happened, life happened, and then we decided to meet on another Wednesday at 7:00 a few weeks later.

Second verse, same as the first.

Kisses, laughing, hand-holding, and allllllll the talking and laughing and kissing and just having the best second date ever.

At this point, I am kind of wondering when the other shoe is going to drop..

Like,  I could meet this dude at NoPo bars and kiss him on patios and have drinks and burgers and fries and pizza forever and never even try to do any single thing besides those things forever and it would be great.

Until...

I mean, it's ME, so you know it just doesn't go that smoothly, DUH!!!

Date #3.  Another Wednesday at 7.

PNW Spring night.  Kissing, hand-holding, walking, talking...Listening to French music al fresco.

Lots of talking.

Like, allllllll the talking.

We get on a subject that makes me SUPER sad and also uncomfortable.

Like, SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

I sort of  try to convey my discomfort without taking up too much space because I always try to do that when I feel weird.  Like, I get as small as possible.

I make a joke that allows the uncomfortable talk to continue..  Like, I was being sarcastic, but the tone wasn't right, so it sounded like I wanted the convo to continue...

Finally, after misreading each other's tone and body language for about 10 minutes,  I...

Welll...

I left.

He was being a gentleman and walked me outside.

Not knowing that I had locked the door behind me.

I LOCKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN HOUSE.

This is not a bad first date story, people.

We are on date THREE and I locked dude out of his own house at 9:00 at night.

CRINGE WITH ME, PLEASE!!

Anyway, owing to a well-placed unlocked window, he got into his house and I got home without spontaneously combusting with shame - it was a very near thing  -and we had a conversation and all was well and we decided we would hang out as soon as I got home from my EPIC ROAD TRIP (tomorrow), so all was good and he even fielded a very drunk phone call while I was on my trip with admirable aplomb.  [I am not unaware of the length of that sentence. If you have ever heard me talk, you get it.]

When I got home, we talked a bit, but something came up on my end, so Date #4 on a Wednesday at 7 was postponed -- I mean, like, is that even surprising??

So Date #4 is Monday.

How do I feel about this?

Like, this dude makes me allllllllllllll kinds of swoony.

He is funny, well-read, articulate, definitely not trying to push past my boundaries.

I don't have time or space for a dude in my life.

He doesn't have time or space for a Mary in his life.

Like, this is perfect, yeah?

Annnnd, now I am so effing nervous about this next date that I can't even think about what I am wearing or how I am going to act or anything.

Like, he isn't my boyfriend, he is just my new friend.

We aren't exclusive, rather we are very inclusive of his person and any person that I choose as my person.  And I very definitely have 2 persons in the queue.

Like, he isn't some rando I met at a bar or a sporting event (hello, COVID!) or a hot but inappropriate Uber driver - ya'll won't EVER get that one out of me!

This is a real human that I have real feelings about that has a real partner that is not me and I am supposed to be super blasé about all of this and just keep moving forward because this is what we do, right?  I mean, I am fine with all of it, but I am also feeling very weird about the fact that I am fine with that.

ANYWAY, this was supposed to be a story about how Tinder isn't total trash, about how you can actually get exactly what you are looking for if you release all interest in outcomes, about how sometimes the most random interactions can turn out to be so not-random, but I think I got sidetracked.

I do that.

A lot.

Story of my life, and exactly how I ended up right here.

Okay, so not EVERYTHING we want, but close enough!

Send In The Clowns

 

Tinder. 

Tinder, Tinder, TINDER.

I have been wanting to write about this all month but did not quite know how to go about it since I am still in the thick of it.

 

I was messaging someone on Tinder yesterday and told him my profile was turned off more than it was turned on.

Um…

Yeah, you cannot even call that a metaphor.

 

I have been WAY more turned off by Tinder than I have been turned on.

 

Here are things about Tinder that are true:

 

1.  Dudes want to move the conversation to Messenger, Kik, Insta, text, or any other platform so they can ask for nudes. I do not get this.  Not one little bit.  There is a whole wide internet out there and there is Pornhub, so WHY do you want some middle-aged tap dancing mom to send you nudes??  Also, when she refuses them, why do you call her names?

 

Case Study:  66. Literally the most gorgeous human on the planet.  Hilarious, Red Sox fan, smart, well-read, literally the only forearms I want to put my hands on ever again.  We go to texts, I vow nudes are not a thing,

Nudes come up in every convo.

Now, I am totally enamored with his brain and his forearms and his ears, so I keep talking to him through all of this until we have this epic battle that goes like this:

I mean...

 

 

I had enough and now we do not talk.  And I can't even be super sad about it in spite of the - literally - most gorgeous, hilarious, super funny Red Sox fan anyone ever met, because it was so off-putting.

2.       Dudes use old pictures.  I do not get this either.  Like, I get that some chicks use filters to blur their flaws and look much younger and thinner and with thicker eyelashes.  That is trash, my dudes, and I totally understand that.  My pics are blurry because my camera sucks, but I promise you can see every wrinkle, all my fat, my chipmunk cheeks, and all of my insomnia-induced undereye bags…. So, I do not understand why most Tinder dudes use pictures that are at least 10 years old, then get mad when connections do not work out in person – YOU LITERALLY ARE NOT THAT PERSON TODAY, DUDE!

 

Case Study: M.  M matched me and I was not super ok with it because he was super adorable and looked younger than my Eldest, but he was hot af so...  *shrugs, tosses moral reservations out the window*

Anyway, he was hilarious, articulate, smart, engaged in current events, so we talked all day every day for 2 weeks.

As things went on and we moved to text (where he immediately asked for nudes and sent me pics of his junk and his face), it became clear that his profile pictures were older than my 14 year old.

So, I asked about it, like, BRO you know your pics look nothing like you look today, yeah?

GHOSTED.

 

 

3.       Guys on Tinder lie about their height.

OOOF.  Fellas, why do you do this??  I am 5’3”.  So, if you tell me you are 5’10”, and I show up wearing 4-inch heeled boots and I can see your bald spot??  Um….  I do not get this.  At my height, I am hardly able to judge you based on your height.  Why not just be clear from the start?

This happened to me on 2 different occasions, and I was super annoyed.  Not at the shortness, but at the deception.

 

Case Study.  D. 

I meet D at Starbucks in Downtown Vancouver.  We get drinks and walk to the Waterfront, neither of us voicing the obvious – my jaw is on the same level as the top of his head.  I suggest we sit on a bench at the Pier.  I expect him to address it, but NOPE.  So, we talk and walk around and when we say goodbye, I pat him on the head,

Guess who unmatched me before I got home?

 

4.       Guys on Tinder lie about being bald.  This is just ludicrous, Bald is fantastic.  Like, who does not love a slap-head??  I know I do.

 

Case Study.  Chuck.  His name was not Chuck or even Charles, but Chuck is what Peppermint Patty calls her bald friend, so I am all in. 

Chuck wore hats – Red Sox hats, so YUM – in all his Tinder pics.  Thought nothing of it.  We meet for coffee and go walking.

I am wearing a wig to cover my blue mohawk, Chuck is wearing a Red Sox cap over his bald head.

It gets windy.

Since I was totally honest about my hair, I whipped my wig off, fluffed it out, adjusted the straps, and replaced it.

He said he liked the color of my mohawk and asked why I covered it up.  I let him know the whole sordid tale.

The wind blew Chuck’s hat off and exposed him in all his Telly Savalas glory.  Instead of taking the piss, he skulks around and gets all quiet.

Later, as we are messaging as a post-mortem, I ask him about the bald – is it organic or ornamental?

GHOSTED.

 

Guys, I am tired.

I got on Tinder to – this is where my Offspring, Nieces, Sisters, Religious friends etc. need to sign off – ummm…just have casual 'friends'.

So, ya'll, all of this subterfuge and obfuscation is exhausting.

 I literally thought the internet was a place I could go and safely find a FWB without too much drama or effort, but instead I am subject to all of your idiosyncrasies and ignominious behavior.

I object.

 

Why are ya’ll like this??

 

I will tell you that, as of this moment in time, I am talking to some absolutely fabulous humans that have made me laugh and laugh all weekend in spite of me having numerous COVID symptoms and being fearful of my imminent demise.

They are all completely different personalities, and they all get me in some kind of way, and it's super fun.

 

Thus far, I have not seen any evidence of the above issues, but we will see.

 

Fingers crossed, otherwise Imma stay home and look at this forever,

 

The Longing Deep Down

So, am still 530 words behind if I get to 500 today.

I've written thousands of words today between writing on the Book, writing my financial narratives, emails, letters, etc.

Do any of you remember when "they" said we would be paperless and save allllll the trees?

 

I go through reams and reams of paper daily, weekly, and monthly despite all of the online and digital correspondence.

Do you ever think about the difference between how you thought life would be at a certain point and how it actually is?

 

The Digital Revolution was supposed to save trees, but our paperwork has expanded from 8 pages in 1995 to 56 in 2021.

 

Progress was supposed to give us more time, but the average housewife spends as much time cleaning her house today as she did in the 50s, despite gadgets and machines.

 

I wonder if "progress" is even a thing.

 

I will address this when I discuss "Civilized to Death" in my "Mary's Book Club" post on Thursday.

 

I am reading a book called The Book of Longings right now.

It is "historical fiction", which I loathe.  (The Other Boleyn Girl is a fucking travesty and should in no way ever be read by humans, like, Hank 8's story has been told so often we don't need some "Twilight" version of his disastrous marriage to AB)

I had a hard time getting into this book, but now I am hooked.

 

I don't think I am hooked because of the historical aspect.

I don't think I am hooked because of the (barf) romantic aspect of it.

I don't think I am hooked on the religious aspect of it.

 

I think the hook with this story is the idea of longings.

 

Like, who doesn't long for things?

 I long for things all day every day.

I long for sleep.

I long for a quiet mind because my fucking monkey brain never shuts up and I am always replaying actions, ideas, and events; as if thinking about them can change them.

 

I am full of longings for things I don't have.

Peace.

Quiet.

8 hours of sleep.

I am definitely full of longings.

I want my river.

I want my dog.

I want my LD.

So this book, with a frustrated writer that is full of longings is speaking to me right now.

 

You know what else is speaking to me?

You know what I want right this second?

 

I want biscuits and gravy.

I want mashed potatoes and turkey gravy.

I want to hug 66.

I want to put my tap shoes on and dance for another hour.

I want to finish the Book.

I want to go to Taco Tuesday with my friends and eat nachos and mozz sticks because Charlie's has the worst tacos - but the best pool tables - in town.

I want to play Cards Against Humanity with my friends in person.

I am filled with longings from dawn to dusk and I feel like this is not even a bad thing.

I feel like I should let them run and see where they take me.  

Especially that longing for biscuits and gravy.

I mean…am I wrong?

 

 

Speaking of longing...

I Don't Know What to Say

 

So, I had to Google a writing prompt for today because I am tired and annoyed.

 

The prompt:

7 tips to make your blogging easier.

 

Is it “easier” or “more easy”?

I fucking hate grammar.

The English language is trash.

Let’s not get into the following:

Your

You’re

Too

Two

To

See

Saw

Seen

I FUCKING HATE SEEN!!

I used to be a ‘grammar Nazi’ until I realized the internet does not give a fuck about spelling, grammar, or my feelings on those subjects.

Also, I have fat thumbs that do not text well, so I am the Queen of sending a text and then doing this:

 

*from

*tits

*you

 

Because those words often get sent as:

FORM

TITA

TOU.

What can I say, my brain works way faster than my Alfred Hitchcock thumbs and I often send typos, even thought I hate them and get annoyed when other people send them.

 

Ahem.

Massively off topic.

So, onto the 7 tips to make blogging easier or more easy.

 

1.     1.   Find something to say.  I mean, DUH, but sometimes words are hard and feelings need to be locked down, which is where prompts such as this one come in handy.  Regardless of whether you use a prompt or not, you damn well better show up with something to say.  Doesn’t matter if it is profound, important, meaningful, or even interesting.  You better have something to say.

2.       2.  Pictures are helpful, but not important.  Like, I LOVE putting pictures of Ryan Gosling and Jason Momoa in my posts, but I have also done a couple of posts with no pictures – my emotions were so raw, there was no way to find a picture on Google that could have helped illustrate my point more than just the words I had to say.

I mean...you're welcome!

.      3.   Find a blogging mentor and do whatever you can to not copy their voice.  The creator of Kale and Cigarettes and Samantha Irby are my heroes.  Kirk Hensler and Samantha Irby mean everything to me when it comes to being raw and sharing shit, but I don’t want to copy their sound, I just want to be as brave and open as they are.  (PS – Google them, they are both fucking fire).  Let your mentors inspire you to honesty, vulnerability, but never plagiarism.

4.  4.       Don’t take yourself seriously.  This is good in blogging, but also life.  There is a shit ton of evidence that this experience we are all having is a simulation - https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/do-we-live-in-a-simulation-chances-are-about-50-50/ - which means you NEED to have a sense of humor about all of it.  Not one of us is going to get out of this journey as corporeal humans on earth alive, so play and have fun.

5.    5.     Use your spell-check.  I don’t always do this when I post, but you can be damn sure I do it when I come back on the 2^nd day to check my ‘stats’.  Speaking of stats, I am EXTREMELY popular in Russia.  Why is that?

6.   6.    Do not censor yourself.  We like it when you overshare and say too much and get all up in your feels.

7.       Don’t overthink things.  I just did and I came out with a very pretentious, high-handed post tonight which makes me so annoyed with myself that I want to delete every word I just typed, but I won’t because I am over 500 (makes up for last night’s under), so WINNING!

 

‘Night, ya’ll!

 PS - It is "easier".  You're welcome.

You're welcome again.

100

So, I noticed the other day that my blog was getting an inordinate amount of hits -- and I haven't posted in weeks.

Again, it is the Russians -- alert Mueller!

Anyway, I noticed that I have posted 99 blogs...which means THIS ONE is the 100th.

Kind of momentous, no?

Actually, NO.

In 4 years, I have posted 100 times, which means I am a HUGE slacker -- do the math yourselves, I am too fat and tired to do it on my own..

For fun, let's compare then and now....



Four years ago, I had just moved back from California.  

I was: skinny, tan, happy, single, living with Jim in a mutually-satisfying very platonic, co-parenting sitch.  I was in love with one person, somewhat enamored with another one that I was having semi-regular sex with, and totally OK with the whole thing.
.
I was working somewhere I hated.  I was doing the best I could with Lexi, I had some really good friends that I never saw, and I was obsessed with Ryan Gosling.

Fast forward 4 years...

I am: 
Fat. 
Pasty. 
Prone to random anxiety attacks where I feel like my heart is simply going to BURST in my chest.  It happens when I have too much coffee on an empty stomach in the morning, but it is AWFUL!  I have never had them before 2016, and I literally WOULD NOT wish them on my worst enemy,

Still in love with one person.  Gratefully broken free from the other (sorry, TC, but it HAD to happen!)

I LOVE MY JOB.  I have the best tribe of friends, near AND far.  Ryan Gosling has been replaced with a Jason Momoa obsession that is somewhat troubling. (Paying $200 just for a pic with him next month, yo - can we SPELL 'desperate spinster'?)

Also, I now have 2 of the most ridiculously adorable, snuggly, silly, fluffy babes in the world to love on.  My little sister -- who is my best friend, my biggest advocate, and the most real critic of calling me about on the HEAPS of bullshit I use to obfuscate the real world about my life, had 2 babies in 16 months, and widened the joy in my heart by 2,000,000%. If I didn't have my little Harlow Grey Evelyn, I may not have made it thought the summer of 2016.  

Because of this:

Biggest change ever is that I don't have my wing man.
My "got-your-six".

And my daughter has no father.

I am a single mom. so I guess I join the ranks of a lot of women whose children have no father.
The problem is that he was her BFF, her co-conspirator against my no-TV-no-sugar-no-electronic lifestyle.  
Lexi and Daddy were partners in crime, and just had the most special bond ever.

Lexi's dad left us forever in 2016, and it is the biggest thing that has happened in my life besides the births of my 2 children and the death of my BFF my Junior year in high school, and the birth of Harlow Grey and Weston James.

I don't think I have fully been able to process losing my BFF.  And I know my little girl has not, although we are both trying mightily.

So, yes, I am super different now than I was the day I started this whole mess...

And I do mean MESS.

I have had employers tell me how much they loved this blog...like, WHAT??  I literally wrote about all of my drug-addled experiences, not to mention my raging promiscuity.

I have had my favorite child (not Lexi, FYI) call me out on my sex life (EW!) after reading this.

I have had good friends analyze me based on what I share here; ummm, NO, I am not "afraid" of my feelings, I just don't have any!  Deal with it.

I have had family members chastise me or try to make me feel guilty for sharing my truth.

Through it all, I have found it is really fun to write, get my thoughts out, and share things that I have had people (not the Russians, obvs) tell me resonated with them.  (Although I DO wish you would comment on the blog and not PM me, as comments help with the monetizing side! HUGE hint)

Anyway, I legit do not have anything special to report on this 100th blog.

I am still me.

I am still writing and working and struggling to be the best version of myself.

I fail daily.

I don't always measure up to the person I ask myself to be when I wake up in the morning.

The thing is this...

I am still here.

I am still doing my best, even when I fall short of my own expectations.

Here is where I am today.

I love my friends.

I love my tribe -- a group of powerful, crazy, hilarious people that came to me as a direct result of losing Jimbo.

I love my girls from NUHS....so much, and can't wait until 2023 when we are all together again.

I love my family, even the ones I can't even begin to comprehend.

I love my job, .  It makes me mad, sad, crazy, and tired, but I always find one person every day to interact with that reminds me why this is the best thing ever,

I love my girls.

I love....well, you know who you are.

I love Jason Momoa's abs and pecs and biceps.

I don't actually love myself, but I am working on that SUPER hard every day.

So, on this momentous (or not so much) blog post, all I can say is this:

I love.

Lots and lots of people and things, and that really is pretty frickin' awesome.


<3

Also, this.  Because why not??

Somewhere Between "New Year, New Me', and "Same Shit Different Day"

It's the end of what has felt like the longest year in living history,

Literally.

People, how long has this year been??

It actually feels like 2018 has been 365 YEARS long.

A whole shit ton of stuff happened this year, and it felt like it took forever to happen.

I had friends get married, have babies, have affairs, get divorced, separate, get back together, inherit money, lose their job, and basically every major life event that you could possibly imagine.

All of that happened to a variety of people in my life.

None of that happened to me though, because I was too busy in 2018 to have a life.

TOO BUSY.  TO HAVE A LIFE.

When people tell me I should get more sleep, it makes me very stabby!!

How is that even a thing?

I barely noticed as the days and weeks and months slipped by, that I wasn't doing very many of the things I normally do at certain times of the year.  I wasn't doing very much of ANYTHING that I normally do.  I was running all over the place, doing tons and tons of STUFF, but not getting any of my stuff done.

I don't exactly understand why I never say no to people, or why I feel the need to be the first person to bat if I see life throw a fastball at a friend.  I have had multiple friends and family members tell me why THEY think I do this, and their answers are always plausible, but they don't exactly ring true with me enough where I can say, "A-HA! You nailed it.  Soooo, if I simply do X instead of Y, I will be able to completely change a lifetime habit??  Thanks, bro".

All I know is, that in spite of posting on 12/30/17, that 2018 was going to be the year I focused on myself and my girls, it actually wasn't at all.

This is getting a little old!

I think I saw Erica, like, 5 times.  (Not minimizing the epic awesomeness of our brunch at Salty's, kiddo, it was the greatest)  I know I palmed Lexi off on friends and family too many times to count, just so I could do stuff that was not MY stuff. 

Not that I have any regrets - besides getting fat(ter).  I kind of did that on purpose (more on that later).

I had sooooo much fun with my friends this year, and I really don't regret any of the times I dropped everything and stepped in to help somewhere.  I love my friends, I am soooo lucky for all of the amazing people in my life, and I love that I was able to spend so much time with everyone I spent time with.  I even think I made "Taco Tuesday" once or twice, which is a major win for me.


However, it has become abundantly clear to me that, unless I calm the fuck down and just insist on creating a life and a schedule that works for me, my quality of life is going to continue to leave me frazzled, overwrought, and slightly cranky.  Actually, there is nothing slight about my crankiness at this point.  I have lately come to notice that my usual happy, freewheeling-within-boundaries, chill personality has been taken over by this guy:

Sooooo, am I going to become a new person just because of some dates on a calendar?  Probably not.  However, I see no reason not to dive into the tide of optimism, hope, and energy that accompanies this particular time of the year.  There are some things I really want to change, and it seems the most advantageous to embark on those changes at a time when the zeitgeist of this time of year is at its peak.  I have discussed the things I want to do with people I know will (lovingly) hold me accountable, and I am going to jump in with both feet and see if I can address some things that need addressing.

Onto the elephant in the room.  

I am still single.

I am pretty sure I mentioned a few times over the course of this year that it was time for me to saddle up and find a cowboy to ride...with!  I meant with!

Didn't happen.

I kind of thought it was going to for about 5 minutes, but that was a naw.
THEN, something very...strange happened in the spring (not telling)-- I say 'happened', as if I was not a very active orchestrator, chuh! --  that made me realize there was no real reason for me to get involved with anyone, and one very big reason why I shouldn't.

Having decided that, without actually declaring it to the many interested parties (seriously, I get nagged at least once a week for still being single.  Just the other night, my little sister raised her eyebrows at me and said, "You really need to settle down."  I just was, like, "Nah, I'm good."  Didn't go over well), I must have figured the best way to deal with what happened in the spring, and the surest way to make sure I absolutely will not submit myself to the agony of a billion first dates, I got fat.

I wasn't aware of the psychology of why I stopped preparing meals at home and started eating at restaurants and turning Door Dash into my daily meal service (seriously, the amount of money I gave to them this year is obscene -- it literally disgusts me.), but in hindsight, I can see where I literally put a barrier (of fat, yes, but a barrier all the same) between me and the opposite sex, which gives me a perfect excuse to stay single for, like, ever.

Anyway, I am fine with being single; seriously.  I am not so fine with being fat, though, so sorting that out is priority at this point.

As far as the poor, unwitting schmuck I trick into kickin' it with me until 2059...I am sure he is out there somewhere, probably drunk, or maybe just spending New Year's Eve feeding his goats and chickens out in Amboy, waiting for me to show up in his yard. (inside joke)  Do I think 2019 is the year I will finally get my sister off my case about my spinsterhood?  I don't really know, and it's not really that important to me...at this point, I just want to acually enjoy my life.

Right now, that is good enough for me.

Don't worry Neo, your real mom is coming soon!!

I hope all of you have a very wonderful evening celebrating the close of the year, just do it safely, please, so you are all still here when the sun rises on a new, hopefully better, year.

At midnight, when all of my friends are wrapped in each other's arms, locking lips, I will be wrapping my lips around a bottle of Jameson, so I have that going for me....

xoxoxox



PS - Go watch Aquaman, please, so that Hollywood will sign JM in allllllll the shirtless movies in 2019!

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

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:

http://makeawriter.blogspot.com/

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!!!