Hills, Hiccups, Happy, Hamburgers...

I like the purple glittery H...

And believe it or not it's been about an hour since I wrote that last sentence and I have completely forgotten what I was planning to write about...  Oh wait... I remember...

HAIR

So hair.  Quite honestly, I don't get what the big hooplah is about it.  Yes I like to have pretty hair; I'm a girl, it's hardwired into my DNA to want pretty hair; but do I go out and get hundred dollar haircuts and only go to salons to get it done?  No.

And not because I'm broker than a joke and can barely pay attention.  I'm the kind of person that gets a hairstyle and kinda sticks with it.  Usually that's braids but lately I have decided to rock my actual hair.  Well mostly my actual hair.  I have tracks on the right side and my shorter hair slicked back on the left.

But OMG! I have seen people who hang their whole day on whether or not their hair looks good.  Namely a certain girlfriend of someone that will remain nameless.  When she first arrived here in Charlotte, every conversation, every stinking conversation started with, "It's so humid I may as well give up on straightening my hair."  You think I'm kidding.  Sadly I am not.  I'm actually glad the humid days are over for now so that maybe her conversations can start with something else. (Not that I would know because she imagined some friction and used it to act like I have the plague.  Yippee!!!)

And as I get older, I notice, it's not just the women.  I know a few guys that own more hair products than I do and I have a bestie that works in a beauty supply shop so she keeps me in some pretty serious supplies.  I actually had to go out and buy a shelf for my hair care supplies.  Of course when I travel I throw like four things in a bag and I'm good.  I've seen people who had a suitcase for their hair products alone. (Again, you think I'm kidding..  I'm not.  I was once in the airport and I heard a guy freaking out because he could find all of his baggage except his hair suitcase.  Whether or not he meant wigs or what I don't know but either way, a hair suitcase sounds scary.  And a little like a diva, which is even scarier.)

Body hair is a whole nother issue.  Let's just say that I prefer minimal.  For both myself and my partner.  Not saying anything about myself but on my partner, I'm not a big fan.  Now that's not to say I can't accept it.  Sometimes a little chest hair can be nice to twirl your fingers in first thing in the morning and more and more guys with a well trimmed beard or stache can do it for me.  

I also LOVE bald guys.  I don't know why.  I have never known why but a bald guy with a small beard and stache.... swoon.  Hell screw swoon.  Insert very unladylike flirting action here.  And staring.  Stalker strength staring...

Now here in Charlotte.  Hair doesn't have a middle ground.  Here, either your hair looks banging or it looks like shit.  Not crap... shit.  Women here get colors in their hair that... well... mmmm (That's me shaking my head in complete dismissal)  Hot pink wigs, blue and gold braids, Neon green weave.  You name the color I have most likely seen it around here....

 

Yes, I actually snapped these pictures...

I just don't get the fascination with hair.

I just don't.

Oh well...  Hmmm goodbye that starts with H...

Hasta La Vista, baby!!!

So I finally decided on G...

Okay so it took me a few days but there are a few factors involved with that:

1.  I'm lazy as hell.  Seriously if you didn't know this about me, I apologize.
2.  For a few days there, I had a wicked headache which somehow led into a cough that I found out last night was the early stages of Bronchitis.
3.  Being sick in any form zaps my energy and the vicious cycle always leads me back to #1.

So in thinking about this blog I finally figured out what I wanted to BS on for G.

Guest Bloggers.

I've seen a few guest bloggers around.  They tend to know their subjects very well and often include footnotes and references.  I applaud them for their work, but dude waaaay more work than I want to do.  See factor #1 above...

I am however NOT opposed to having Guest bloggers here.  I mean the alphabet blog is basically Bullshitting about any topic on the given letter.  I didn't create the alphabet blog to be informative.  Let's face it, I'm not that smart and if I was going to do an informative blog I would turn most to Wikipedia so why bother with the middle man?  I'd rather make people laugh than inform them of something...

Now you guys are going to have to be patient with me today and for a few days.  Got a brilliant doctor at the ER last night who is used to medicaid and it's limitations so instead of giving me the Cough medicine she knew wouldn't be covered, she gave me a pain syrup for the chest/head pain that has a cough control in it.  O.M.G.  There is a good damn reason that Loritab Elixir is on the Narc list.  One freaking teaspoon of it and I had to get up from the computer cause everything was blurry.

I have coughed maybe twice in the hour since I took the tablespoon... Go loritab!

Back to the topic on hand.  So I'm going to look into Guest bloggers.  IF you would like to be a guest blogger let me know.  Here or on Facebook.

Guest Bloggers should be:

• Clear and concise
• Funny.  The alphabet blog is meant to be funny.
• You must not stray from the letter/topic you are given (I say topic because I may extend this blog)
• Must NOT be insulting.  Yes I talk about my ex in laws but I have never thrown them completely under the bus.
• Should not personally name people without their permission.
• Must use a JPEG picture of the letter you are given at the top of the page.

There may be more guidelines put on guest blogging in the future but for now that's what I have.

So there it is.  The G blog.  Not very funny but there ya go!

Now I see why people hate Mondays...

So I'm awake until the coffee and the benedryl fight it out and decide screw this, I'm hitting the pillow again...  Might as well blog...

My refusal to overcome my feet and back hurting and stand in line has officially bitten me in the arse.  Last week, at Olivia's school's open house, I had the chance to find out what bus my child would be on but the fact that the line was like six parents deep and there were tiny kids running around screaming, I figured, she could just go out at 8 like she did last year and catch the bus...

Wrong...

She got out there at 8.  The bus had already been and gone...

)#$*(&!)*

Well, I WAS NOT going to wake my mother up and have her grumble and fuss as she drove across town to come take baby girl to school. I would inevitably catch the crap load on that one.  Nope, I scrambled up my last ten bucks and called yellow cab who told me that it would be 7-9 bucks to go 2 miles... God I miss five dollar cab rides.

But thankfully, my neighbors oldest son showed up to see his own kids off to school and he gave Livy a ride to her school even though he wasn't going in that direction.  I love my neighbors family.  You don't know how much.  Pretty much from month three of me being here they open their arms and invited me into their family.  Do you know how many of their family celebrations I've been invited to??  I love them.

So Olivia is off to school and I am gulping down a big cup of coffee and hoping that this little pink pill does it's thing pretty soon or I may be reduced to clawing at my skin like I was last night around midnight...

For the fifth straight day, social services has failed to put my food stamps in.  In the beginning it really wasn't much of a big deal.  I stockpile food so it's not like we were hurting.  And truthfully, the kids aren't hurting save a lack of Capri Sun's to take to school.  At the moment, I am the one who's feeling the pain of no food stamps.

I am out of sugar for my coffee.  I am out of flour to make bread.

The first sentence alone should scare even Obama.  Seven A.M. and I simply do not mix.  To make us mix, we need the benevolent God of Caffeine to visit us.  If the Caffeine God does not visit us, you have three females who don't like morning all converged into one household.  That's right, be afraid.  You should be.  I'm about ready to go to a restaurant and hold them at butterknife point for all their sugar packets...

The lady said that if they weren't there by Tuesday we have a problem.  She has no idea.

So yeah... If this is the Monday that everyone is always complaining about, I agree, they suck.  IF you have had to live this Monday for longer than one day, I pity you.  I would hand you a cup of coffee, but mine has almost the last bit of sugar in it and dammit, I'm not sharing!

I think I'll go something productive like go play the sims...

Ciao!

Firetruck, Fissures, Farts, Flying, Fame, Frankfurt....

Are all words that I didn't choose for tonight's blog!!!  Hehe, ain't I a stinker??

Well I was kind of torn between two subjects for F.  On one hand I thought, Hmmm this is a great chance to discuss Facebook.  And then on another hand I thought, great chance to discuss Family.  Both great topics.  

How about Facebook and Family/Friends...

With their new filtering methods, Facebook offers ways to have family and what you can show family.  Take my mom for instance.  Sadly, I put her in a group called Doesn't need to know it all because come on, let's face it, Moms do not need to know everything about their adult children's lives.  If my mom knew a lot of the stuff I said on Facebook, she's drag me over her knee (after she gets it replaced) and beat the hell out of me and then drag me to church probably for a well deserved exorcism...  At 68, there are just some things better hidden from mom.

Not to be discriminate, also in that group are the teachers that worked with my mother once upon a time that have known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper.  Yes, that phrase is actually used.  Also in that group are my aunt (the preacher), my Dad's wife (The preacher... my dad is also a minister...), and all three of my kids.  So yeah, aptly named group... Don't need to know it all...

Up until recently my ex-husbands godmother, cousins, sister, and mother were in a group categorized by their last name (The Henderson Clan... yes I actually called them a clan.  If you knew them and the relationship we have always had you'd realize in about ten minutes that they only thing missing were their white robes and pointy hats...)  They were also on the Don't need to know it all group but then his godmother flubbed up.  She wiggled past all my security to a post where I was outright talking about something my ex did to piss me off.  And like the little rat she proved she is, she went right to him telling him that I was dogging him on Facebook.  And here's the kicker, she also laid a public chastising down on me on said post.

Let's go back to the E blog... Things that make you cock your head and say ...eh?   No no no nooooo... It doesn't work like that.

It took me about a week to think on it (Which is my way of coming up with the best way to say #$!& you with actually saying it...) but I made the decision.  First I removed the entire Henderson Clan from my Facebook one by one and then I blocked them all so that I would be invisible to them  Not even visible in a search with my name.  Then I went to each of my girls' page and did the same.  I can't control my son's because he's thirteen, he set his own up.  And as expected, it had the desired result.  The godmother noticed that I stopped appearing in her news feed.  Then I'm sure that she asked her daughter if she could still see me or my girls and then she started flapping gums again and mentioned to the ex that I had removed her.  I don't know what the ex told her.  I imagine it was something along the lines of "So?  It's Facebook."  but it probably wasn't because he mentioned it to me and I said, "I divorced you, I am under no obligation to be nice to your family anymore."

Don't look so shocked... Whenever it comes to his family and me hurting their feelings this is my standard answer.  The answer really should be that they felt no need to be nice to me when we were married so why should I care about them now that we're divorced but the other way has just that tiny ring of sarcasm that I'm known for.  This is the same man who's text tone on my cell phone is "Oh don't sweetheart me, you sonofabitch!"  From the movie version of Chicago... (Shameless movie plug!! If you haven't seen it, you really should.)

So uh, who caught the part above where I mentioned how many members of my family are practicing ministers/reverends?  You can add my maternal Grandfather to that list although he's been deceased for more years than I actually know.  I so don't fit the profile of someone that comes from a really religious family do I?  Then again, maybe I do.  They say the preacher's daughter is the one leading the path to... well, you get the picture...

Back to the topic at hand.  I have many groups on Facebook.  I put all my Chefville people in a list of friends called Chefville and periodically if I don't want 400+ faceless people to know something I block them from seeing it.  When I actually bother to play the game, they are the only ones that can see the posts from it.  I have Locals, I have smithites (I went to Johnson C Smith University for a year and a half and the five people on my Facebook that I still talk to are in that group.)  I even have a list set aside from people from my high school.  They only get filtered out when I have a complaint about high school life which isn't as often as you'd think.  Ninety percent of them already know that high school tended to feel like a gaping hole of crap for me.  Ninety percent of them also know that it was a gaping hole of crap for them too.  Ninety percent of us have kids now so we have a little more common ground.  Although most of them now have small kids and toddlers or babies now and I have teenagers. (Not for nothing but when they are going through that wasteland of teenage years and they wanna pull their hair out, I'm going to sit back on the deck of a cruise ship with a tequila slammer and laugh my ass off... that is unless I meet someone and we do the unthinkable like have another baby... In which case I will be crying right along with them.) I also have a group of ladies who fall into a list called soul sisters and these are women that I have an intense bond with.  One that I'm not even sure death could break.  They are the kind of women that if I died, I would come back and haunt a lot of people, yes, but I would be the spirit that looked out for them.  You know when I got free time from haunting the crap out of others...lol)  Those women are like family.  I'm pretty sure that every last woman in that list is called Aunt by my kids.  Black white, purple, green, they all earned the title aunt.

And OMIGOD there's a yellow jacket crawling up my lamp.  I'm about to freak out.  I need him to go away.

Time to wrap this up.  If I don't get around to the G blog, assume that the little bastard stung me and I'm in convulsions on the floor...

(I don't have a good by that starts with F so... Laters!!!)

Double standards...

So I'm the mom that controls her daughter's Facebook pages.  Routinely, I log on and peruse the things that they can see.  I go through their friends lists and see if they have any friends that they really shouldn't have.

And from time to time I see things that I really wish I hadn't've.

Like the other day when I went on my Kayla's page.  She's Facebook friends with my ex-husbands current girlfriend.

He recently took her with him up to New York to help move his mother and sister down to Charlotte and his shutterbug lady of course took a million pictures.  I wish that I had just kept scrolling and not looked through her pictures of the trip.

For one thing, he took her on a tour around NYC.  He took her on the ferry, he took her up to Manhattan to walk around, he took her to sight see.  Do you know how many times I begged him to do that for me??  How many times I outright said that I would like to see the sights?? No, he kept me in the Bronx like I was some dark dirty secret.  The one time that we all did go to Manhattan to see a movie, he, his brother, and sister walked so fast that they actually left me in the crowds scared out of my mind at night.  Yeah they came back to get me, but not until after they stood by and laughed at me then berated me for not keeping up.

Another picture had his brother posing with her and happy and smiling.  My ex's brother treated me like the little sister he never wanted.  When I was pregnant, we all went out to eat and I was so hungry that I got down half of my burger in record time before he informed me that it wasn't done in the middle.  Killed my appetite for good.  Even after the restaurant took back the other half and returned with a fully cooked whole burger, I couldn't eat.  He went the further mile and made fun of the fact that I was so hungry that I had eaten the first half so quickly.  Called me barbaric because a cow like me was eating ground up cow.  Mind you this was in public and not quietly.

Another time we all went to the movies and he hung a keychain from my braids and let me walk around with this silver thing hanging from the back of my head.

Further pictures had her and him smiling with friends that I was never introduced to but knew about.  Them posing by the river.

I can't say that it made me mad because it didn't really.  It more hurt than anything else.  That his family would accept her when they never even tried to accept me.

Sigh... I sometimes hope that Karma will offer me sideline tickets to the ass kicking that my ex and his family will get one day but if it doesn't and I miss the show, it won't matter much.

Sigh...

So tired

I am so tired of trying to convince guys that I am worth a chance... So tired of trying to entertain people when I just want to curl up in a corner and cry...

They say that the ones that offer the first and most convincing smile are hiding the most.

I'm not smart.  I'm not funny. I'm not as pretty as the Victoria Secret's model wannabe's walking around today.  When it comes to members of the opposite sex, I get tongue tied and say everything wrong or I let my body overwhelm my thoughts and I flirt like a wanton hussy.

I never learned how to be subtle.  It was never anything I needed to know because I was the fat black band geek in a white Jewish school that nobody ever looked twice at.  In college I was the whiter than Wonder bread black girl that was once again a band geek and only one person looked at me in an attempt to save me from a fate worse than death for a college girl.

The guys in Johnson C Smith Marching band's drum line were planning to run a train on me.  For those that don't know, when a few guys plan to run a train on a girl that seduce her one by one until she sleeps with every one of them.  It can be anywhere from three to however many guys.  In my case it became a Kappa Kappa Psi initiation so it was about ten guys.  My now ex husband got wind of it and put a stop to it by claiming me as his own.  For that I will probably always be thankful because at 18, I was so horny that I probably would have fallen for it and not realized what was going on until it was too late.

It wasn't really enough to completely save me from some ruin.  One night before I was officially with my ex, I was invited to go on a walk with one of the saxophone players.  In my mind he was courting me.  Old fashioned courting me.  I was wrong.  So wrong.  After the rape, I tried to report it but his Line brothers (He was trying to go for KKP) told campus police that it was a train, I was fully aware of it, and that it couldn't have been rape because they all saw me flirting with the guy.  Campus police then turned around and told me just because it wasn't the way I wanted it to happen, I couldn't cry rape.

I have never had any confidence when it comes to guys.  I'm just not the one that guys like.  I'm the friend.  The one that has to keep her feelings to herself while they go on and date the skinny pretty model type girls.  The one that gets to go sit at their weddings.  The one that gets to stalk their Facebook walls.

I don't think I can do it anymore.  I don't think I can be the person with the ready smile.  The person that looks like their world is all sunshine and giggles when I'm wading through shit in the fog.  I can't be the person with the funny joke on demand when all I can think about is what highway I can walk out on and when.

That's morbid, I know.  Perhaps a little too morbid but it's kinda how I feel.  Part of me wonders if God has a plan for me that involves me being happy or is the plan for me to just hang around being miserable until I finally give up and let go.

My birthday is in three weeks.  You know what I want?  I want a date.  A real date.  Movies, Dinner, talking... I want a guy to take that chance.  To give me a shot.  I don't care if he's a knight in shining armor or a dofus in tin foil.  I don't care if he's riding a noble steed or a Harley or even a moped.  I just want someone to take a chance.

Every New Years I make the same wish... please God, don't let the coming year be another year I end alone.  Please let me have someone to kiss at midnight.  Please let me have someone who makes me happy and allows me to make him happy.  Every new years I watch everyone else kiss their beloveds and every year I have to fight the tears until I'm alone and can let them fall in the torrential streams they flow in.

I can't do it anymore.  I can't hope.  I can't pray.  I can't wish.  I think this birthday and this New Years I'll stay home where I can cry if I want to.  Where I don't have to be the brave soldier who always smiles.  I won't do it anymore.  It's over.  I'm done.  IF my lot in life is to be the one that is always the friend and is only loved as such, then so be it.  I will take that and do my best to excel at it.

Because I'm so tired...

So tired...

Farmer Wilson has a blog! Ee-I-Ee-I-Oh!!

I gotta tell you bloggers, I'm only on E but doing this alphabet blog is freaking fun!  Those of you that are reading, thank you!!

So E... E... E...

I am going with my own topic tonight.  Things that make you go, eh?

We all have those moments.  When we see something and we just cock our heads to the side and go eh?

One of the things that causes this reaction from me are brand new mom who have a shit ton of energy.  They just had a baby like two damn days ago and they come out looking as fresh as a daisy wanting to run or clean the house or do stuff that would tire a person with no kids.  I had a fried like this.  She had her son and like the next day she was running around like she always did.

...eh?

Dude!  The day after I finally came home after having my son, I was so freaking tired that I was actually mad at the sun for coming up.  I honest to God stood at my window and grumbled because the sun has risen and shined in the window that I had stapled black curtains to and make my son's eyes pop open.  His eyes popping open made his mouth pop open and he had a powerful set of lungs lemme tell ya...  Ex was working nights and after he got in he would pick the boy up and watch television for like an hour and then plop the boy in bed with me.  When I was sufficiently awake, he'd proclaim how tired he was and plop down to sleep.

In all fairness I knew he was tired I really did, but the boy was colicy and up most of the night.  I was 19 and had until that moment in time had a very wonderful love affair with my pillows and bed.  So when he said he was tired most of the time I was inclined to snap on him.  This started my on/ off relationship with coffee... This has been a mutually beneficial/abusive relationship...

Anyway...

What else?... Oh!  People who do their hair like this...

And people who dress like... 

How do they have boyfriends???  People procreate with people who look like that!

  But I dress like...

And on a good day, my hair is...

but I'm still single?

eh?

People who move in front of you on the highway and cut you off to go slower than you... Okay this only kinda makes me say ...eh?  It mostly makes me say things that no lady anywhere should even know...

People who are rude mofo's to people are serving them food.  ...Eh?  Do you not know that this person could go in the kitchen and poison you fifty different ways and you're being rude to them?

Parents who let their children run around willy nilly and treat them like crapola.  ...Eh?  But I would be wrong if I just hauled off and clotheslined your kid in the throat for standing there calling me out my name or running around in circles while I'm walking and almost making me trip three times while you say "Jordan... no no." and keep talking...  ...eh?

People who eat and eat and eat food that would make me blow up like a Macy's Day Parade float but don't exercise and gain no weight... eh?

So I don't think I can BS anymore about things that make me go ...eh?  Quite honestly, the list is endless.

What makes you go...eh?

Do wah Diddy, Diddy Dum Diddy do!!

Dang it... Now I have that song in my head....

So D... D... D...

It was suggested I discuss d*ck... oh hell it's my blog, I can say it... dick... Wait, she just clarified... dickheads... Love you S but I'm so not convinced    that heads was supposed to be behind dick...

And I could blog about dick but here's the thing... I don't know ish about it.  Nope, not a damn thing except what they occasionally look like.  I can tell you how much I like it.  How much I want it.  How I envy those who have it.

But here's the thing... I just did so blog over right?

Haha!  You should be so lucky!! Nope I promised a BS blog and I'm going to deliver...

I choose... Daydreaming/dreaming... so thanks Katie!

I daydream all the time.  Have been doing this all my life.  There are a lot of things I would have been good at if I hadn't been perfecting my daydreaming.

When I was a kid I used to daydream that Michael Jackson would come an whisk me away.  He was the king of pop and to my young mind that meant I had a chance at being the Queen or pop... I could have been the queen of doo doo but it wouldn't have mattered because I would have been queen.  Then I got to high school and my king was replaced with four guys that couldn't have cared less for me, about me, whatever...

College didn't leave much time for daydreaming.  For one I was in the band and it was controlled by the world most sadistic sonofabitch.  If you watch HIMYM you know how to say that.  Anyway he was.  Won't go into details but he was.  And I met my now ex husband.  I spent most of the first half of my freshman year in his room.

My daydreaming picked up after I married him though.  Now most girls dream of the rest of their life once they're married.  Me, I dreamt of my future husband.

Yep you read that right.  Shortly after I got married I started having dreams, actual dreams, and some daydreams about a man.  A man that wasn't my husband.

It started off well enough.  He was just a guy in my dreams that I couldn't pin a face to.  His hair was varying shades going from blonde to black and grey.  His stature has gone from taller than me to slightly taller than me and his build varies from extremely thin to slightly pudgy.  His voice... his voice has never changed.  It's deep and has an accent.  A southern accent.  It was one of the catalysts for moving to the south.  I know that he's good with his hands and that he has a future as an architect or is an architect.  I know that when I travel, sometimes his face gets clearer and sometimes it gets blurrier.  I have come to think that when we are in close proximity his face is clearer and the blurry means we aren't close geographically.

If I was bored awake I might try to picture him.  I had three terrifying daydreams though.  The first, a little boy connected with this man fell out of a tree.  I saw it, I felt my heart jump into my throat.  I wanted to find that child and just hold him.  I felt like my child had just fallen out of the tree.   The second time I was in my kitchen but suddenly I was standing in a mall and I was looking at a little girl who couldn't find her parent. My ex said that he came in the kitchen I was pleading with the fridge to turn around because mommy was there. My bid to convince people that I was sane was just shot all to hell then... The third daydream was a simple one.  He came in and hugged me and I felt warm and loved.

He's not the only ting I dream about.  I have very vivid Day dreams about random stuff.  I generally turn those into story ideas.  Or blog ideas.  Or sims.

I'm huge on Dreams but Day and night.

They say that if you die in your dreams you die in real life.  I can't tell you if that's true because to date I haven't died in my dreams.  I've been shot, I've given birth, I've been in some hellatious  fights but I haven't yet died.  Well not technically but Le Petit Motre doesn't really count as dying.  If it did, I would be one dead bird. LOL.

Some people say that dreams are really just symbolic representations of what's on your mind.  Let me debunk that.  I know what's on my mind and lately it has been all over my dreams but I can assure you there is nothing symbolic about it.  My dreams are literal.  At least right now.  To my knowledge, I have never had a symbolic dream.

There are people that say that dreams are your brains way of working out problems.  I can attest to that.  I have had some huge problems that were answered by dreams.  Mostly it's me turning to look at myself and telling me what to do or acting out a solution and then turning to myself and telling myself to do what I just saw.

I can also remember my dreams.  Can you?  I may not remember them all the way through but the prolific dreams that have real key points stick with me.

So I need blog commenters.  Tell me about your views on dreams.  Come on!!

Need a closer that starts with D....

C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me!!!

No, C is not for cookie but the damn song has been stuck in my head all freaking day.  I blame Cindy for that.  Still love her though...

So here we go....

Tonight I'm going to briefly discuss an evil that needs to be swept from this earth completely.  An evil so horrendous that just thinking about it makes me shudder.  An evil so terrifying that it really should be illegal.  An evil so devastating that the mere mention of which should come with a thirty stint in the dirtiest prision around...

Clowns!!!

Scariest thing imaginable to me.  They look freaky and scary and oh my god I think I may have nightmares after this blog!

Why do parents think that clowns at a child's birthday party are fun?? Are you trying to scar the child for life at an early age?  Are you trying to say that it's okay to act like a complete fool and blow up and pop balloons in people's faces and dance around in way too big pants and big floppy shoes as long as you paint your face garish colors and funny colored hair?  Who the heck thinks they are cute and adorable??

If you can't tell I don't like those c words.  I don't know if I had a really bad experience with one when I was a kid but judging by the fact that I won't even be in the same room with one as an adult, I'm going to go with yes.  And trust me, it had to be big because I'm not the type that scares easily.  A lot of stuff that should probably shave years off my life and scare the poop outta me, doesn't really.  But Clowns... *Shudder*

My mom and aunt took me to Ringling Brother Barnum and Bailey once.  Once.  I don't like circuses either... Now you have to understand when I was a kid, going to Ringling Brothers was the shit man.  It was like crack to the under ten crowd.  Tickets were hard to come by and expensive before expensive was invented.
I spent the entire time turned around in my center ring, second row seat with my back facing the circus.  I remember a clown tried to coax me into trying to enjoy the show and I'm pretty sure I bit him.  Mommy and Auntie never again attempted that colossal waste of funds...

Skip ahead some years.  I have three kids.  My mother in law who at the time lived in NYC thought it would be a great idea for all of us to go to the Circus.  Husband had to work so he got out of it.  Sister in law had to work, so she got out of it.  I put my foot down and said no I was not going because I hated clowns and the circus was their stomping ground.  I said it repeatedly, emphatically, and almost vehemently.  And she walked all over my foot and drug me to the circus.

Thankfully for me, I did not make it inside to make a spectacle of myself.  I had a plan.  I bought a brand new outfit that had fur on it, and leopard print, the whole nine yards.  I did my part and PETA did theirs.  I walk up and got my splatter of red paint.

Oh I pretended to be mad, I even shoved the person that splattered me, got in a real fight, almost threw punches... New York City's finest escorted me to a waiting area.  Maw in law had to go in with all the kids by herself.

Little known fact.  If you get in a fight with PETA at a public event where they thrown (washable) paint on you like the circus, they really only require an apology before letting you go. (Or this used to be the deal like eight years ago.  I have no idea if this is all that's required now.  There's probably a fine involved with some of the things I shouted at them)  IT's really as simple as that.  I pretended to fume and cuss, and generally act like the little shit I can be when provoked and about five minutes before the end of the circus, I apologized.  The whole thing only cost me a cheap outfit with fake fur that I really didn't like in the first place.  Man I bitched and moaned about that outfit for months just to make sure that my cover was in tact.

But I hate clowns.  I hate them so much that my kids have missed out on birthday parties which probably were really fun but there was a clown and it was a no drop off party.  Hey kids!  You wanna see a grown woman cower in a corner?  You wanna see her beat the hell outta a person because he came near her looking like Lady Gaga's makeup dummy?  Invite me to a bday party with a clown and make me stay.

And if any of my friends read this blog and surprise me with a clown... It's illegal to talk about the stuff I will do to you.

Clowns are evil.  Pure unadulterated evil.  We need a Hands Across America to rid the world of them... Come on I know there's a celebrity out there who hates them the same as I do, won't you lend your name, time, and money to my cause?!? Let's ask Sarah McLachlan!!  She can make anything sound so horrible that your day is ruined just because she uttered the words, "Hello, my name is Sarah McLachlan and..."

I'm telling you man... something has to be done about clowns... *Shudder*

Okay, I've BS'd enough...  Ciao!!

B... Humorous B... are you ready??

I put up the status for B this morning and last night and I got a few good suggestions... Tonight I chose three of them.

Bleach Thanks to Jennifer Beauvais Osorio

Okay, so bleach... evil thing that.  It is like the serpent with the apple... of course that would mean that I am comparing myself to Eve and well... okay sure except that if you read the bible that woman had a crap load of kids and it hurt like hell... So no, I'm gonna stick with Dette...

Bleach is the best freaking thing to hit earth since sliced bread but oh so evil... so evil...

When I was a kid I was spoiled as hell.  I didn't do laundry.  Like at all.  The closest I came to doing laundry was going to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer for my mom.  I may have helped sort them but considering I kinda a brat, I doubt it.  So when I got married, I was kinda clueless to how the whole bleach thing worked.

Husband says that laundry needs to be done.  After I finish looking at him like he has five heads and all of them are speaking a foreign, foul language, I decide, what the hell.  How hard can it be?  Put the money in, put the soap in, put the clothes in, close the lid right?

Oh how wrong we are when we pretend to know what we don't know.

Make a long story short... White navy uniforms that cost upwards fifty to a hundred bucks, your newborn son's dark blue onsies with the oh so cute blue designs, and almost a half a gallon of bleach DO NOT MIX!!!  The actually make for one really pissed off husband.  They make your mother in law who never wanted you in her family in the first place laugh her fool ass off, but seeing as how the pissed off husband is in a real position to make your life a living hell, I don't recommend mixing the three...

I also do not recommend mixing bleach and a ammonia.  Yes the clean your toilets and counters and floors like no one's business and for a closet neat freak like me that's awesome but you know what... Together, I have found that they make mustard gas.  No, not that foul smell that comes out of the mustard bottle when it's been closed up for a really long time, actual mustard gas.  Bio chemical warfare strength actually.

*Aside here-  If it's really that easy to make a bio weapon that can cause everyone who comes in contact to cease to breathe and flop around on the floor like fish out of water and possibly die from over exposure to it, why have we been loosing wars??  I mean a bunch of housewives could very easily wipe out (Cleaning pun) whole countries and there would be no problem.*

So back to topic.  I mix them quite regularly.  I have actually come up with the right mix so that I don't suffocate myself.  Several of my friends wanna thunk me over the head whenever they find out I do it, but I gotta say, seeing my floors clean and my toilets sparkling, I'll deal with the lectures.  Totally worth it.

Totally.

Boobs Thanks to Rockngranny Gordley

I don't have a whole bunch to say on boobs.  I don't have a whole bunch of boobs.  I wish I had a whole bunch of boobs.  I have a feeling that guys would like me better if I had a bunch more of boobs.

Boobs are awesome.

Here's the thing.  Why do women display their boobs and then get mad when guys look at them?  I saw a woman the other day who was showing pretty much everything God gave her save her areolas and nipples.  I mean damn.  If I was a baby, I would have probably been instantly thirsty upon sight of her.  Now keep in mind I was at the casino in Atlantic City.  An old guy walked by her and I can swear he walked slower than he did in that moment.  His eyes were all in her chest. (And they had the AC on full blast so the rest of the image didn't really need imagination.)  She's at the machine next to me and she turns to me in disgust and says, "Ugh!  Did you see that?  That geezer had his eyes all in my shirt.  Some guys have no class no matter how old they get."

Seriously,.. imagine my face here.  Imagine the self control it took not for me to have the biggest freaking koolaid grin.  Imagine how hard it was for me to not make a remark about her shirt.  Seriously, imagine me just shrugging at her. It was hard.

Boobs are great things, really they are. Boobs are the reason that a lot of people are alive today.  Of course, in that context, they are referred to as breasts, not boobs.  Boobs does not go well with feeding.  "Excuse me, I'm going to boobfeed my kid." just doesn't sound right.

Don't get me started on Breastfeeding.  I personally like breastfeeding.  Besides the fact that it keeps children alive, it gave me a diluted sense that my kids actually needed me for a little while.  When they started walking all sense that they needed me for anything was over.  My son's first steps were to the fridge which he promptly found a way to pull open and grab one of his sippy cups.  Cannot tell you how useless I felt in that moment.

I personally don't see what the big hooplah is over breastfeeding.  Okay yes I agree with people say that a certain modicum of discretion is called for.  I agree with covering both you and your baby while feeding but not because I'm embarrassed, because I really don't want people staring.  People stare.  I'm embarrassed if they stare at me anyways so I'm not going to give them an extra excuse to stare.  That is my ONLY issue with breatfeeding.

And as Forrest Gump says, "And that's all I have to say about that."

Lastly... Baking Thanks to Elaine Knight

Seriously, I could go on an on forever about baking.  Bread, cookies, cakes, you name it, I've probably baked it.  Stoves, campfires, light bulbs, I've probably cooked on it all.

Baking is a huge stress relief for me.  Eating what I bake, however has become a huge chore.

I have regrettably reached the age where eating what I cook is not fun for me.  It's functional.  baking/cooking for other people and watching them become nourished by what I created in the kitchen is what fills me with joy.  I miss eating my baked goods.  I do not miss my pants being a size 26.  I just miss eating.

Baking is something comes natural to me.  Being in my kitchen comes natural to me.  So baking is awesome.

What else can I say about baking.  Nope, I think I covered it all with baking is awesome.

So in the spirit of keeping with the oletter of the day... Bye!!

Fear...

So a few years ago, December 2009, I had Shingles... bad.  I have this horrible lump on the top of my head that looked honestly like something had laid eggs under my skin.  The rash went all the way from my forehead to the crown of my head and cause most of the hair in it's path to fall out.  If I so much as moved too fast, I was in extreme pain.  Pain that rivaled my worst contractions when I was pregnant.  It went down to my left eye and quickly spread to my right eye.  They call it Shingles.  It was bad.  The Dr. that treated me in the emergency room told me outright that for me to get it in my twenties was a rarity and that since one of the triggers is stress, I must have been under extreme stress.

I actually took a Facebook picture of how I looked before the lump on top of my head got big...

This was when the lip was swollen and the whole left side of my face hurt.  You can see where my hair started to fall out at the top.  My Dr. at the time was completely unconcerned that I described my eyes as red and yellow.  He told me to buy an eye patch.  I think it was the day after this or so that I went to the ER to find out it was Shingles and never called my doctor again.

Truth is, I was.  I had an ex husband that was acting like most ex's act which is to say $#(&.  I had a job that was more quickly becoming a place I dreaded going whereas I used to love it. I was raising three kids pretty much on my own and at the time my son treated me the way he grew up watching his father treat me which is to say like I was inconsequential to his everyday life, and I had a landlord who thought he was God's gift and he could treat me anyway he wanted to.  So yeah.  Stress.

Anyway, like I said it affected my eye.  The whites of my eye turned yellow.  I looked like I had a serious case of jaundice.  The slightest amount of daylight hurt my eyes and I had to wear thick dark sunglasses everywhere I went including into my house for up to an hour while my eyes adjusted to the now muted light.  The eye doctor they sent me to hinted that untreated I would have lost my vision.... at first.  He later said that I had damaged my eyes irreparably.  That part I told no one because I put myself in denial and told myself that he had no clue what he was talking about.

Recently I have to take day trips out of denial because my eyes are getting bad.  Really bad.  Bad like sunglasses are increasingly not helping and doing almost anything outside is near impossible.   Driving is becoming something that I don't look forward to because I can be in the middle of the road and suddenly my eyes go blurry and or my vision just blanks out for a second.  Blinking used to help clear it but it doesn't always anymore. Grey days like today actually cause me headaches because they are so bright and I've become the person that has to wear sunglasses almost into nighttime.

I have a real fear that I am going blind and bloggers, I am scared to death.  Scared like you wouldn't believe.  There isn't a damn thing I can do about it because I am now dependent on Medicaid and they don't cover adult's eyes anymore.

I have no one but my kids to rely on if I lose my sight. They aren't old enough to be able to cope with that and I feel that if they aren't 18 when I finally do go blind, my ex will use that as an excuse to take them from me.  Not that I'm selfish that way, If I do lose my sight I will probably give them to him because they deserve a life that I will no longer be able to give them.

I will be so totally alone that I am pretty sure I will want most days to curl up in a corner and die.  I have never really much thought about losing my sight but more and more it's pressing on me.  I have stopped rearranging my house and have become the person that has places for things.  On days when ordinary room light hurts too much for me to see well, I try to walk around with shades on or even with my eyes closed just to get the layout of my house.

I'm a reader.  The written word is a huge part of my life.  If I can't read anymore can I survive?  If I can't get on the computer and type out my feelings would I survive?  Even as I type this, my eyes are starting to hurt a lot.  Hurt like... almost burn.

I am scared to death and I can't tell anyone.  I tried to tell my mom once. She said I needed to wear my glasses more.  My glasses have since been lost actually.  I had to stop wearing them because they actually made it all worse.  And Like I said before Medicaid no longer covers eye care for adults so they were my last pair.  I'm no longer able to go to an eye doctor.

It's after midnight, I should go.  I need to stop looking at the screen like I'm going to find the answers I need.  There aren't really any.

And besides ending up alone and possibly in a dark world where I can't even see my children anymore, the fact that no one can tell me anything has me scared shitless...

And A is for...

Aggravation!

Chances are that since I haven't managed to spell that right all dang day and the fact that I have already had over 16oz of iced tea with Firefly Sweet tea Vodka in it, this might prove to be an interesting blog...

So as I sit here with my way too big bag of peanut m&m's (yes, I have chocolate and vodka, no I don't wanna talk about it as it will require much more vodka...) I need to contemplate aggravation...

Homer Simpson had an episode where he said "You know what grinds my gears?"  (Or was that Peter Griffin from Family Guy?  I watch a lot of cartoons)  I guess that's a good way of starting.

You know what grinds my gears?  People who pretend to be your friends but really aren't.

Everyone has one or several of these friends.  For me, I have A LOT of these people.  Mostly on my Facebook.  Most of them that I went to high school with.  They put up all these posts that require answers but then when you respond, they act like you haven't said a word.  It's like high school again.  You include me in the group but when I voice my opinion, you act like I'm the hanger on that should only talk when spoken directly to.  And it's not even their posts all the time.  I don't know about you, but I have this thing where I randomly go to someone's wall and say "Hi!  was thinking about you.  How are you?"  This is not me jumping up and down saying "I'm here!  Notice me!" this is two things.  This is me being nice because you probably were actually crossing my mind and I'm generally interested in what's going on in your life.  This is also a test.  Chances are that I have been treated like the step child that shouldn't voice her opinion even when asked by you and I want to see if you are really as shallow as you are coming across.  You have no idea how many people hit the chopping block as far as Facebook is concerned because they don't respond.

What else?  Ah!  Something that I witnessed today.

RUDE PEOPLE/ RACIST PEOPLE

Example one, my mom and I went to her orthopedic consultation today regarding her knees.  While sitting in the waiting room pretty much everyone looked up at my mom and smiled.  She indicated she was cold and one woman came over to tell her that the place we were sitting was always cold and if the couple to the side of us got up, we should take their spot as it's always warm there.  Nice of her.  My mom was called to the front for something and again everyone looked up and smiled because we're in the South and people tend to be just that nice.  While she was up, I sneezed.  If you actually know me, you know that this was not a quiet thing.  My sneezes range from a comically high pitched Achoo something that sounds like I'm trying to blow my nose out of my eyes.  I never know what one it's going to be.  Anyway, I sneezed.  Do you know not one person looked up or even muttered "bless you"?  I'm pretty sure that everyone saw me some in with my mom especially since I almost tripped over the side of a chair and face planted on the floor. Maybe it's my sense of whatever but I don't care if someone sneezes clear across the room, I say Bless you.  It's something my mother taught me.  And I know that it wasn't because everyone was in their own world because a minute later when my mom came walking back to our chairs, freaking everyone in her path looked up and smiled.

Uhm...huh?  Wow.

Example two of what I'm pretty sure was racism on parade.  We've all been to Walmart.  Don't deny it, you've been.  We all have.  I'm walking down the aisle on my way to the register and coming at me was Mexican teenagers I've seen in a long time.  Complete with the soccer jerseys.  They weren't being loud, they didn't smell, they didn't even look out of place except for the fact that they were tall and their features gave them away as clearly being Mexican.  There was an old lady walking in front of me.  Now the aisle was big enough for the two of them, the group of five (Who had formed a single file line) and the old lady, to pass each other with enough room for a mac truck to go between them.  She looked up at them and not only stopped but moved to the farthest side of the aisle opposite them and watched with horror (You really cannot mistake horror on an elderly person's face).  Then she noticed that a black woman was standing behind her and she stepped back in front of me and every other step she had to glance back to see that I wasn't too close.  I was tired or else I might have played a mind game with her as I'm apt to do to people in Wally World.  Mom said I should have looked her in the eye and said "Boo!" (My mom can be funny sometimes.)  But the fact that she was that put off by Mexicans and a black person was just really...aggravating to me.

What else?  There are so many many things that are aggravating to me.

While I find something else here's something for Rachel Who suggested tonight's topic be Apples and hinted that I could do all sorts of yummy things with them...

White Chocolate Chip Apple cookies

Unwarranted Advice

I would say that this falls in the aggravation category.

Everyone has an opinion but here's the thing.  Sometimes you need to listen to people.  I mean really listen.  Not only to their words but the tone of voice that tells you I want you to know, or I need to vent and I don't really need advice.  Yes I know that your advice is probably what I should do and it will probably lead me to sunny days and freaking happiness but dammit I don't want to hear it right now.  Of course some of my friends that unwarranted advice leads to fun, mayhem and maybe serious trouble.  But still at that moment, I don't want to hear it.  Okay... example... *Think, Dette, Think!*

Me: My husband is really an ass sometimes.
Friend: Oh?
Me: Well the other day I was having an asthma attack.  I mean I really couldn't breathe and I felt like I was going to pass out. My inhaler wasn't working and do you know what that asshole did?
Friend: What?
Me: He actually stood there and watched me fade in and out of consciousness with the phone in his hand before he called the paramedics.

(This is the part of the conversation where the 'friend' is supposed to say something to the affect of "No shit, that ass!")

Friend: You need to leave him.

I wanna say, "Bitch I KNOW that!"  Cause I do, I really do.  I knew that about three minutes after "I do" but I don't need you to tell me that.  I need you to agree with me that he's an ass and help me plot murders that look like accidents to cheer me up.  I don't need you to tell me that I need to leave him.

Okay so that's a really bad example of unwarranted advice but I claim the vodka defense. Besides, it was kinda meant to make you laugh.

I'm kinda jamming to my WMP which for once is NOT playing kissy lovey songs for once.  It's playing the kinda set list that makes me wanna get up and dance like I have black people rhythm. (there is no non racist way to describe my dancing so I'm going to let your imaginations take over that one.  *Insert devious giggle because I can only imagine what your brains are coming up with*)

Another one for Rachel...

Dutch Apple Cake

On the subject of Kissy love songs... And this is the last topic I will cover in Aggravation... The mere fact that almost everyone around me is happy in love and I still can't get a guy to pay attention to me is starting to aggravate me.  Another of my friends got engaged this weekend.  I'm happy for her.  I think it's wonderful but it's one more person in front of me in the long line of people who get to have that happiness that I crave.

EH.  I'm gonna stop there cause trust me, I could go on ALL NIGHT about that particular aggravation...

So this was 'A' aggravation... How'd I do?  Leave me a comment!

Ciao! or since the topic was an a maybe I should say Arrivederci! 

So... Sunday... Kind of a ramble... If you can keep up, you're better than I thought...

It's Sunday and you know what?  I don't have too much to blog about today.  Went to bed last night with a headache the size of Montana and woke up this morning to find it had stretched it's way from the top of my head to the base of my spine.  Not a fun morning.  I actually shed a tear when my almost thirteen year old, looking me in the eye, daughter came barreling down the stairs and gave me her usual "i'm going to knock you down pretending I'm a still a toddler that can leap into your arms" hug.  But I didn't say anything because, let's face it... my days of getting knock you down hugs are numbered with a pre teen and a tween in my house.  One morning I'm going to wake up with no back pain and my daughters are going to great me with a sleepy nod of the head instead of tackling me.  So painful or not, I'm going to take my hugs and suffer in silence...

Still nothing on the romance front but then if the adage is true, I'm not having any luck because I'm looking for it.  But gotta tell ya, it's kinda hard not to look for what you want.  That's like loosing your keys right before you walk out the door and hoping that they magically appear.

I've been waiting for my happily ever after since I was 18!  I'm tired  Where is my Doofus in tin foil??

So okay I'm pretty sure that *if* I have any new readers you might be asking why I say doofus in tin foil and not knight in shining armor...

Knight's in shining armor don't exist.

Yes you read that right.  I have known enough males and read enough romance novels to know that the guy on paper, he doesn't exist.  Sure there are blond haired blue eyes Adonis-like guys that you wish would pay you the slightest bit of attention and use their deep southern drawl to turn your knees to jelly and their well honed muscles to drag you off to bed and give you the good time you know only he can... err... or raven haired and green eyed, brown eyed, sandy haired... whichever, sorry got a little off topic there... what was I saying?  Oh yeah... yeah sure we wish that guy existed but the reality is that the perfect guy is a myth. 

There is a perfect man for each woman, (excluding the women that love other women of course.  I am not pushing heterosexuality on anyone.) but just because he's perfect for you doesn't mean he's perfect period.

I have several friends that have found their Prince Charming and you know what, I'm pretty sure that when they look at their guys, they see sunshine and daisies and unicorns flying out of their bums.  You don't wanna know what I see.  It's often times not very flattering.  THEY ARE GOOD GUYS but I don't see the sunshine.

This may be because I have a skewed view of men.  I'm not overly trustful of them because the last one I let past my walls destroyed the fortress.  I mean took a serious battering ram to the place and made a huge mess.  And ever since the great clean up, no male has made it past the outer wall.

Wow, I get off topic really quickly don't I??  What the $#(&! was I blogging about tonight?

Uhm... I went from a killer headache/backache to the perfect (nonexistent) man... okay... sure... I can work with that...

Have you ever listened to the fine print talk at the end of the dating site commercials?  I have.

And I quote... "Joining is free!  Sign up today!"

They don't lie...joining is free.  actually meeting someone will cost you anywhere from $35/month to $160/year.  Trust me I know I have a profile (sometimes two) on just about every dating site out there from Christian mingle to single parent's dot come.  Did you know there is even a site for farmers??  No shit there is... But they are the free profiles because I can't see taking my limited funds and splurging to find Mr. Right.

But on the flip side, I can't seem to find Mr. Right so is it really that wrong to pay someone else to find him for me?  If you ask my mom and the news, yes.  That is wrong because no one is who they seem to be online and those that are, well aren't they just goody two shoes?  I ask my friends and they well... they give me loving advice that starts with "Are you crazy??  Don't you dare!" and ends with "If you have to do, which you shouldn't, make sure you text me and tell me where you are and make it public and... yada yada..." (This is where I tend to tune out because my resolve to do the online thing has generally buckled under the lecture so why listen to the rules I'm not going to need to follow anyways...)

Me personally I have this thing where I get hung up on one ideal and hell if I can't get off it.  I call it the curse of being an only child and being a spoiled rotten one at that. I always want what is always just out of my reach.

Know what?  Subject change, I'm tired of talking about romance.

I wanna talk about... my birthday.

My birthday is officially 28 days from now.  I know what I want to do but there are serious odds that if I expect that, I will be highly disappointed so I think I'm going to expect a quiet night at home where I'll be routinely ignored or reminded that I'm a mom. (Pretty sure that I won't forget that)  My b-day falls on a Monday this year... boo hiss!!  I'm hoping the ex will take the kids the weekend before or after so that I can at least try to be an adult. Maybe I'll treat myself to a movie.

I am going to stop rambling now and end this.  I have jumped from A to Q and back to B all in the same blog.

OOOOOHHH IDEA!!!! I'm going to pick a letter of the alphabet each day and choose a topic and blog on that.

Insert evil laughter here...

Ciao bloggers!!

Hmmm

Bloggers I am so tired that if I actually closed my eyes right now (Which is impossible due to the very LARGE cup of diesel fuel I *think* was coffee that I had this morning.) I would sleep for hours.

Drove up to Margretsville, NC for homecoming at the church my family has belonged to for over 100 years.  We were there from 10:15 until about 1:45... So long day.  It was okay.  I really do think that I gave Sunday's there a bad judgement call because I was so young and basically hated church in general back then.  They had wooden seats that were just plain uncomfortable, service was way too early... you know, the normal bratty kid problems...

So we went up for Homecoming like I said and it was okay.  Let's leave it at that.

It was kinda of a bittersweet trip.  My cousins are moving to be closer to their children.  One is going to Upper New Jersey and the other to Texas.  The big house is up for sale and there aren't any cousins that we're close to up there anymore so I think that this is the last time we're going to see my family's home church unless we make a special trip up there which is highly unlikely to tell you the truth.

One thing that bothers me.  Over and over, one of my cousins said that I was a surprisingly good this or a surprisingly good that.  That I have really grown up... The usual things that older family members say to someone... but they alternately annoyed me and made me wonder... was I really THAT BAD as a child/teenager???

Okay yeah, I was a normal disaffected teen.  I had a complex where I seriously though that I was white for a long time.  A really long time.  The far reaching effects of this are that I don't see color barriers like some people do, but when I say I thought I was white, believe me when I say this was a bad thing.  I acted like the kids in my school who had an actual silver spoon in their mouths, not the silver colored plastic spoon I had in mine.... yeah... And that's not a knock at white people or the kids in OTHS or my friends from OTHS.  I just forgot that in reality, I was one of 25 black kids in a sea of over 300 whites and that I lived in the projects across the highway.  Made me who I am so it's all good.  Back to subject... I wasn't a very tolerable person.

I guess I didn't realize just how much of a turd I was though because quite literally everything I did brought on the comment "You turned out well", or "I didn't think you'd grow up, but you did" in some version or another and Oh man, did it really grind on my nerves to think about what I must have been like.

I also came to the conclusion in the country that I am the problem in most of my day to day dealings.  I don't communicate or in some cases, I'm sure I over communicate.  I always want what's unobtainable to me and I keep wanting it even after I realize it's unobtainable.  I think that it being unobtainable makes it even more appealing to me most times but no more. The straw that was meant to break the camel's back has officially broken it and I'm done.

If you don't want me, I will live.  If you don't like me, I will live.  If you feel like I'm not worth it, then you know what?  I will live.  It will be difficult to do so at first, but I will live.  And I will prosper.  I don't know how yet, but I will.

Crazy summer.  And It's not over yet.  The ex leaves tonight go get his mother and sister from NY to come live in Charlotte.  You may see a lot more blogs on the subject soon.  Depends on how separate I manage to keep my life and how much of a thud there will be when I fail...  We'll see.