Hockey with Alex Tonight

So, I get a call tonight from my friend Alex, asking me do I want to go to a hockey game with him. I'm cool with that, I love hockey and I haven't been to a game in almost four years. It would have been less had there not been a strike last year...the fuckwads.

Anyway, I'm going. My company has a suite at Phillips Arena in downtown Atlanta. Let me tell you that the suite is SWEET! Kick ass view of the ice (and stage if you go to a concert there). I've seen Madonna and Bon Jovi from the suite. took little Peabody to see N'Sync when they came years ago, as well as Toy Story On Ice. Last summer I saw Coldplay from the 6th row. SWEET!!! I wasn't turning down hockey tickets.

Alex, is a guy I have known since I moved here almost 9 years ago. I started working in a restaurant that shall remain nameless, let's just say that KB's dad owns several of them in central IL. Anyway, we became friends.

Let me start by saying that Alex is Jewish. Not my only Jewish friend, but my MOST Jewish friend. He's sort of the stereotypical New York Jew. Probably his most endearing quality. Sort of Woody Allenesque, only not short, not slight and not nearly as goofy looking! Neurotic? Absolutely. But, he wouldn't be Alex if he wasn't. He's fun to be around and probably the most trustworthy person I know. Alex will help you out of a jam if he has the wherewithall, any time of the day.

Now, poor Alex has always gotten teased, by me, by our friends...all the way back to childhood. He just says the right thing, and you HAVE to pounce on it. I can't pass up a golden opportunity to tease someone who can take it. Alex is a good sport, but there are times when a few of us used to tease him about being "gay", which he isn't. DROVE HIM APESHIT! He had lived with the same roommate since moving to ATL years before and when the rommate bought a huge house he let Alex move in for cheap rent as long as he A) did the yard work, and B) kept the house clean.

Neither were any problem for Alex. He is anal about cleanliness. ANAL. In fact that was one of my nicknames for him when we worked together at the restaurant...Anal Alex. He hated that, so I quit. The funniest part, and the part that prompted us to tease Alex about his "boyfriend" was that he cooked every night. HE LOVES to cook. And the man can cook! We told him he would make Rob, his roommate, a great wife. Didn't go over so well with Alex. We told him that he and Rob were in love and we were waiting for the wedding invitations. Pissed him off royally.

So we quit teasing him. Mostly. I felt guilty after a while because he was such a great guy. So I toned it way down and just kid him. He laughs with me now.

We both work for the same corporation now, in different departments, but I used to work in the department he's in. My boss used to tell me that I was the only one who could keep him in line. The fact that I was pre-med before I quit school shortly after Peabody was born seems to impress him. It seems he has a lot of respect for me, as a single mom, and as someone he considers smarter than himself. Kewl with me! I'll take that respect.

So, I'm gonna head downtown to the hockey game with Alex, whom I always call "Alexis" as a throwback to the "gay" teasing days. He takes it with a goofy smile, but doesn't insist that I NOT call him that. It's just become my name for him. I should probably quit, considering that his brother actually IS gay.

Alex is a die hard hockey fan. Hell, he's a diehard sports fan. He is also a font of endless musical information about bands and songs and blah, blah, blah. It's like he has a a photographic memory when it comes to sports and music. So, Alex kinda has a one track (or two track) mind. But you can get past that.

I really shouldn't get started on Alex's fabulous parents except to say, he has a very sweet father, and a very Jewish mother...enuff said? Perhaps not.

His dad calls his mother "Mommy." The first time I heard him call her that I almost pissed down my leg.

This woman rules the roost. She is a woman of women. A former editor, now retired and living in FL. Oh I do love a good cliche`. Actually, I admire this woman quite a bit. She did a good job with her kids and had a great career. What we all want, right?

Alex, strangely not a mama's boy, is a good man. His parents instilled great values in him. He's a trooper who's had nothing but heartache from women. I hope someday he finds a girl that can make him happy and vice versa. He deserves that much. Don't we all?

Time to go watch some blood bounce off the ice! Go Thrashers!

Deliver Me From....

Ahhh, Atlanta traffic.

I drove 33 miles to work today at my newly merged company's office in Marietta, GA. My own office is only 13 miles from my house in Norcross, but I had meetings in Marietta all day. I took all interstate there...no big deal...traffic wasn't bad, though, to be fair, it was 9AM when I left my house.

On the way back I wanted to see if the mileage was different taking a different route and if the time it took to drive the other way was any different. You always need to find all the best routes....just in case you need them.

Well, after what I went through getting home I will not be driving that route either way. EVER.

I took GA 400. For those of you who have an inkling about Atlanta roads (TJ I know YOU KNOW!) then you know 400 is generally a parking lot during rush hour.

But the thing that really chaps my cheeks is that I left about 3pm to drive home. I figured 30 to 40 minutes tops. Traffic shouldn't be horrendous at this time of the day.

I was completely deluding myself.

I hit 400 and things were going smoothly for about 5 minutes, until there was an accident a couple of miles ahead of me and, of course, it wouldn't be Atlanta without construction to clog up the works!

Talk about a kick with cleats to the cooter!

I got so frustrated I got off 2 exits early and took several side roads all the way home. NO fun.

It took me over an hour to drive 30 miles home. It was shorter, but WAY longer. Go figure.

Atlanta traffic is like:

A herpe on my puni,

A hemi on my sphincter,

A boil on my taint,

All at the same time!

I may be forced to start doin' a lil' 420 just to keep from killing some oozing canker sore of an anus with my vomitous spew of road rage, as well as to suppress the undeniably strong urge to gnaw their genitals from their bodies with my back teeth.

There is no MARTA (Atlanta's rail transit system) in the county where I live. That's okay with me, though it might make my life an assload easier. The exception to this would be when it rains, or when it's colder than a WT in a BB, simply because I would end up trekking from the MARTA station to my job, or jumping on a bus to complete my journey. In the end I would still have to walk a short distance which would suck because I drag my laptop and various other things with me every day. It's just not practical.

The reason MARTA is not OTP (Outside The Perimeter) in my county is because the people who live in it do not want the MARTA. They believe it will deter crime by eliminating the only transportation some criminals may have to get out here. I guess they think that the only crime in Atlanta occurs ITP (Inside The Perimeter). Keeping MARTA out may keep SOME of the crime out, but this IS a city and crime is EVERYWHERE. You can't escape it...it's just there. People are desperate. What else is new?

As for future technology making my commute easier, I don't know if I can wait for flying cars.

My dad once told me that when he graduated from highschool in 1965 that people believed that by 1990 there WOULD be FLYING CARS. People really believed this. Whoa. How disappointed must they be, huh?

I can't imagine flying cars, or anything similar, ever being available in my lifetime. Or, if they ever are, I will surely be a super, duper, old biatch laying in my own urine and feces, with festering bedsores at some nasty ass rest home. I will have no teeth, no hair, won't be able to see, smell, hear, or taste (MMM, sounds like a kickin' life!).

Yep, flying cars won't happen while I desperately need them.

Damn.

Until then, I guess I will continue to contribute fluorocarbon to the atmosphere and sit in this unGodly, Atlanta traffic.

Pray I don't lose my fuckin' sanity before I retire. Pray HARD and pray A LOT.

Not a DAMN thing

Did you ever just not have anything to blog about?

I don't have anything exciting to tell. I'm still SORE from the elliptical, but like a trooper, I'll be at the gym this afternoon, giving that puppy Hell.

My dog is getting better at not shitting on the floor. I take her out on a regular schedule and she seems to be adapting to it much better. Life gets hectic sometimes and the schedule gets jacked with and you get crap on the floor. Moving on.

I gotta go back on Weight Watchers. I lost 25 lbs on their points system in 3 months. Not so shabby huh? My mom and I both feel of the weight loss wagon the last month, but I actually fell off in October. Too much business travel, too many killer meals on the road with customer's and team dinners.

I hate my job, what else is new?

Kelly Ripa is a skinny twatgnosher. She had Regis chew her "abc" gum this morning. She is just too freakin' perky in the AM for me. I am on my way out to the door to a business meeting and I can barely keep my eyes open. I didn't get much sleep last night. Not sure why, probably the night sweats/hot flashes I was having. Joy of joys.

Okay, I gotta run.

Happy fuckin' Monday ya'll.

Feel the burn!

The Precor Elliptical has been around for years. I've watched people use it at the gym for a few years and I always thougth it looked like it was way too hard to do for very long. I'm not a cardio lover so I just usually treadmill it.

Yesteray I took the plunge into elliptical hell. But, it wasn't that bad. 20 minutes had me flushed and sweating my ass off, but it was a good sweat, good burning feeling. I felt like I had really worked hard and might actually feel the effects of it.

Oh, I feel it alright. I have a charlie horse in my left calf, my thighs are stiff, and my achilles tendon on my right foot is ACHING, and it hasn't bothered me since I was a gymnast as a kid.

Whoa. That eliptical thing can really hurt your ass!

I'm getting back on that bitch today. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Either that or I'm completely insane to do it again the very next day. It's just that I'm now excited, as I feel that I may actually be burning more fat and getting into shape more quickly. I have plenty of fat to burn too, being that I have PCOS and insulin resistance. My body doesn't let go of fat easily, nor does it use the energy I take in, it thinks it's starving when it certainly isn't, but it turns that energy to fat if I don't take my meds or exercise on a regular basis.

Life's a bitch, or else you become one I guess. I think it may be both for me personally. I think TJ might agree with me seeing as how we're both high on the bitch/asshole meter.

It's early (7:18AM). It's Sunday. I'm going back to bed.

The bitchiest asshole? Maybe.

Like TJ, I am happy with my score. Strangely I thought I was a pretty nice and easy going person, until you piss me off that is. I guess this Lupron therapy IS making me evil.

WAAAAHAHA!

I am 73% Asshole/Bitch.

I am abrasive, some people really hate me, but there may be a group of other tight knit assholes and bitches that I can hang out with and get me. Everybody else? Fuck ‘em.

Take the
Asshole/Bitch Test
@ FualiDotCom

Thanks to TJ for a kick ass quiz...finally! So ya'll gonna be my tightass bitches and assholes or what?

Trouble with a capital T

I'm too fucking soft hearted.

Case in point: My ex-brother in law.

This man, James, has been the biggest bite in the sphincter to my family. Of course, my dumbtwat sister had to bring him INTO the family, as if she hasn't caused enough trouble. The sister I'm talking about is Zoloft. She is a mental mess, and she chooses men who are the same, if not worse.

James was born to two drug addicted freaks in 1975. He was raised by a mom who was so fried she was paranoid that the FBI were going through her trash. He was fried before he was born from her drug use and therefore extremely hyper. She couldn't deal with him in her acid induced coma so she sent him to foster care for a while. When he was reunited with her, he wasn't allowed to leave the house and have a normal childhood outside of the home because she was afraid he would tell everyone that she used drugs. She also prostituted herself for drugs in side her own home. Paranoid psychosis is so much fun in a parent.

Eventually he moved to another state to live with his dad who eventually kicked him out, so he lived on the street for a while. Later he made his way back to his mother's and found my sister.

Because his childhood was such a nightmare, he leached onto her like flies on shit. To say their relationship was rocky is being kind. Their relationship was violent, volatile and emotionally and physically abusive. He told her, immediately after they were married, that she didn't love him unless she had his baby. My sister was stupid enough, and insecure enough to do such a moronic thing. She had a baby boy, nephew # 1, Towhead in 1997. He has some of his dad's freakish obsession tendencies and we have since learned that he has a mild form of autism. He functions relatively well in normal society. But James, he's another story.

He is extremely prejudice. Horribly so. In fact, I give him so much hell when I hear him belittle any race. To me, that is just simple ignorance. He is definitely the most ignorant person I've met thus far.

He is obsessed with my sister. He reads things into any phone conversation they have. He's sure that she's "fucking around" on him, even when they are no longer married (thanks to her decision to divorce his fucked up ass). He also believes that she wants him back and that they are in luuuuuuurve. Whatevuh!!!

What compels me to blog about James is the fact that he called me today to ask me to pick him up in downtown Atlanta at a homeless shelter across the street from the new aquarium. I had just had the most fabulous boning by Pablo and James calls me get up and pick up his sorry ass, 45 minutes away from me.

I am one of those people who is way too soft hearted and always want to help those in need whenever I am able. Of course James knows this and played on my fucking symathy. I'm a dumb bitch.

James, had no money, was just released from jail and brought to a halfway house, which he promptly left because they were preaching about God and Jesus and religion. He didn't want to hear about it and just left. I'm sure the homeless shelter was MUCH more AMENABLE than the halfway house where he would be assisted with finding a job and a place to live.

Moron...

Anyway, knowing that he'd been stuck in jail for 8 weeks while waiting for someone to help him get out, I felt sort of sorry for him. He was accused of theft, a theft I know he was not guilty of, but a friend of his was and implicated him even though he was not present at the time of the theft. Long story, but he managed to get out on the stipulation of going to the halfway house. Already he's fucked up by leaving the halfway house.

My family will have nothing to do with him, but my stupid sister, Zoloft, feels sorry for him too and continues to take his calls and lets him believe that they have a future together. Not happening. Not with all the money my parents have loaned him that he's never paid back, not with all the beatings my sister took at his hands, not with all the times they almost lost their home and eventually did because of his drug problems. That ship has sailed.

I told him I wouldn't pick him up, that I couldn't. He wanted to go to my parents home to use the phone and make some calls to find a place to stay. No dice, brothah! But he was so freaking destitute that I imagined how I would feel if I were in his shoes at that particular moment. So, I grabbed the dog and headed to the city. Picked up his ass and proceeded to be bombarded with a graphic account of his stay in jail and how awful his life was (his own fault of course, but he blames others for it). Oh yah, just what I wanted to hear.

So, stopping him, I proceeded to let him know that he had burned the last possible bridge with my family and that my road trip into the city would be the LAST kindness he would EVER receive from me or anyone in my family ever again. Not to call, ever again. Not to visit, ever again. To make a new life for himself that didn't include this family.

He fucking started to cry.

I am one mean bitch I guess. Never knew I could make a grown man cry if I wasn't breaking up with him. Wow. I'm POWERFUL.

Anyway, feeling bad for making him cry, I tried to give him a pep talk about setting goals and priorities (as though I'm so awesome at it myself...I started sounding like my Pop!)

1. Find a place to stay
2. Find a job
3. Pay child support
4. Find a new life
5. Keep a positive attitude

I even went so far as to tell him that he should consider joining the Airforce or Navy. Less chance of getting killed in the line of duty anyway. A structured situation like these options might save his life. At least I hope so. Anyway, my sister would start receiving child support for Towhead if he did something smart and went that route. The man has NOTHING ELSE. No family, no trustworthy friends. What choice does he really have?

So, now I feel like I've done a good deed, but I may have screwed the family because he is one of those people who you just can't trust not to do something stupid or dangerous. I'm always worried that he's going to go off the deep end and either kill himself or a member of my family in a fit of rage (he has rage issues). He has been trying to get his act together, but it's just not working out for him.

Am I too soft?

There is so much more I haven't put into this blog posting, but my hands are cramping up as it is from typing this much. Pablo was worried about me helping him out with this ride, but I can handle James. He's not very strong. I've personally kicked his ass twice. Beat the living shit out of him for fucking with my sister. Someone had to kick his ass so he would know what it felt like to her when he was beating her. I took it upon myself to be that person.

To clarify, I'm extremely strong for a woman. I used to body build in college and I was a gymnast so I've just always had so much strength. I was always stronger than the boys when I was a little girl. They hated it. Now, I didn't look like some bull. I looked like a girl, just more cut, stronger. James isn't a big guy so it was easy to take his ass down a peg or two. I threw him six or so feet once, and I cornered him in a bathroom of my parents' house and beat his face till it was a lovely purplish-red. I wonder how he explained that away at work to the fellas?

I guess I just took this opportunity to tell him to stay away from the family for good...or else he'd get stalking charges pressed against him.

End of story.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm!

Cheese Pizza

Traditional and comforting.You focus on living a quality life.You're not easily impressed with novelty.Yet, you easily impress others.

What's" Your Pizza Personality?

Kewl..

I guess this reflects the real me!!!

Your Eyes Should Be Brown

Your eyes reflect: Depth and wisdom What's hidden behind your eyes: A tender heart

What Color Should Your Eyes Be?

BTW, my eyes are green...

Only In My Dreams

I had a dream last night that I went to my endocrinologist and he was acting like my chiropractor as well. One of my customer's was there too. He was also a doctor in this dream, along with some old fart I'd never seen. They were trying to figure out what was wrong with my back, though I didn't know I had a problem. Strangely, I was wearing a paper gown (like at they GYNO) that is open in front, but at least I had my panties on. I was desperately trying to keep the gown closed while asking them why I needed it on in the first place.

Turns out, in my dream, I needed a new mattress. Do you think my dreams are telling me something?

Pablo would say yes as he won't sleep at my house because it's not as comfortable as his tempurpedic. The bastard...he sleeps in comfort while I sleep in discomfort, that I never really knew I was in until sleeping on that damn temperpedic!

I've been drooling over Pablo's tempurpedic bed, as you all know, for a long time. My dream was so real I thought, cool, my insurance will have to help pay for a new mattress!

Then I woke up...What a pisser!

I saw Elvis yesterday, driving on GA 400 N. Boy, has he gotten fat(ter) for a dead man. Must be eatin' his mama's cookin' in heaven.

He was driving a big, white, 4-door, Lincoln Mercury, dragging a U-Haul on a hitch. His plates said "ELVIS." Classy!

I think he was heading to Dahlonega, GA to pan for gold in the north Georgia mountains. I guess he didn't hear that the gold rush was over in 1848 when the rush was beginning to hit in California.

Perhaps he heard somebody up there is famous for making a mean peanut butter and banana sandwich.

Possibly, Dahlonega may be the blue suede shoe manufacturing capital of the world.

I bet there is someone in Dahlonega who makes leather jumpsuits for fat people and he needs some new ones because he keeps splitting the crotch of his old ones or has too many skidmarks or vomit spots to keep wearing them.

Ewwww.

Another One Bites The Dust

I just got off the phone with my friend Kathy Z. She dates a guy I work with whom I set her up with 3 years ago. Now they live together, only she's kicking him out today and he doesn't know it.

Here's her biggest problem. He does not EVER answer his phone. EVER. I know this to be true because I have issues getting him to answer my business calls. Drives her and me and everyone else BATSHIT! You seriously want to shove your foot in his crap basket because you get so pissed when you absolutely need to reach him!

Today, she needed to reach him...voraciously. He had some legal papers that she needed to take to her lawyer by noon. She had her identity stolen and one of the creditors is now suing HER for the money, they can't seem to wait for it I guess. Fuckers. But anyway, she tried to reach him as he was taking her mother (who was visiting) to her cousin's house. No answer on his cell phone.

Now, keep in mind, we work for the third largest volume wireless company in the nation. Not answering your phone is a BIG NO-NO where we work. We have to be accessible at all times. It's the rules of our division/department because we have customers in all four times zones.

Anyway, she called him several times and no answer. She left in excess of 20 messages letting him know that it was imperative that she reach him to get those papers. He tends to work from home 90% of the time, but today he chose to work from the office. The last message she left him was that it was his "ex" girlfriend calling to come get her legal papers out of his car.

She called me to bitch about him and get directions from the area of town she was in, she's used to going only one way and was afraid of getting lost. So, I walked her thru it all the way to the office. She made a decision, based on his numerous ignorances of her phone calls (when she's had flat tires and run out of gas!) and decided to kick his ass out...today. I think I applaud that.

She is sick of his working from home, as she puts it, "99% of the time," in his underwear, and has not taken their puppy out ALL day. She's sick of the house always being a wreck while he works from home and him no lifting a finger to keep it clean so she ends up being the one to clean it up at the end of the day when she gets home from work.

Sounds like she lives with my 15 year old.

I certainly understand where she's coming from. She's 34, he's 28. He just doesn't take responsibility for himself and she's not interested in being his mother.

So, log another failed match making attempt by Ms. M. I guess I should give it up altogether. The last good friend I set up (years ago) lead to marriage, though four years later they got divorced because the bitch I set him up with turned out to be a psychopathic kleptomaniac. She's a real freak that one. FUBAR for sure. Ask KB, she knows what I'm talking bout!

So, I'm closing up shop. No more will I ever attempt to set up anyone. It appears my judgment is not so sound. I'm sure ya'll figured that out about me a while ago. I always seem to forget that what I see on the surface is simply packaging. It isn't who the real person is underneath. I need a class in psychology and personalities or something.

So....

Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Scratch on that Match
Don't Find me a Find
Throw back that Catch!

Ms. M. has left the building!

Day From Hell, Party Of One

It started off like any other day. I had to start screaming at Peabody to get his rear in gear and get out of bed for school after attempting to get him up about 5 or 6 times. No dice. The kid was up most of the night and said, "I couldn't sleep Mom, I've only been asleep for an hour!" Tuff titty.

Unfortunately, I am to blame for this one, putting a t.v. in his room years ago, spoiling him and forever fucking up his sleep patterns. But now, I'm yankin' it!

My son is bigger than me. Physically moving him into the shower or physically forcing him into his clothes is an impossible feat. One I cannot perform without having a hot flash and probably breaking a few bones (mine AND his). I don't even try to do this anymore as it is an exercise in futility. Needless to say, the kid did not get up. He asked if he could sleep a couple of hours and go in late. Since I didn't have to be in the office until around 10:30 I said, "Fine, but no more late starts."

I'm a serious fuck-up for that one as you'll see during the progression of my morning.

So, it's early, 5:50 AM, and since I don't have to be at work for a while, I decide to catch a few Z's before getting ready for work. It was a lovely snooze for all intents and purposes and I needed it.

I get up at 8:30 AM and head for the shower after checking my blog comments (PRIORITIES YA KNOW!). I piddle around the house a little here and there and then I get a call. It's one of the account managers at work and she NEEDS me on a conference call to explain an implementation plan I have developed for a customer.

Me: "MS, can't it wait until later, I've got something going on this morning"
MSC: "No, it can't, he needs some answers on something and he's expecting our call"
(Thanks MSC for promising my time without checking with me first...Snatch)

So, I jump on the phone with this customer who is quite demanding, as well as he is having telephone trouble and we lose him several times so we then have to jump on a conference bridge to complete the call. Good Lord, it's getting late and I NEED to dry my hair which has been sitting in a towel for a half hour already! SCARY! I have an internal job interview at 11AM and it's a 25-30 minute drive in good traffic. I have a bad feeling!

10AM, we FINALLY get of the fucking phone. I'm livid with MSC for her timing and promising my time without consulting me on my schedule first. She knows she's supposed to, but apparently her time is more valuable than mine. Guess that's why she makes the big bucks...Whorebag.

I dry may hair and get makeup on in a record 15 minutes, throw my clothes on and get my laptop, lunch and purse...wait, I got Jack up before the call. Is he up and ready to go? It's 10:20...I have a bad feeling. I check his room, he's snoozin' like a baby.

This is where I freak out. I yelled very loudly "YOU'RE GROUNDED!!" "YOU'VE SCREWED YOURSELF!!" I guess the Lupron therapy I'm on (causing temporary menopause) chose that moment to spring into action giving me one hellatious attitude adjustment. It was almost painful if you can imagine. I'm sweating and my blood is boiling and I'm literally seeing RED. Freaky!

So, I slam out of the house and jump into my car at 10:30, knowing I may be late and freaking out about it. What kind of impression does a manager get when she's waiting and waiting for you to show up for an interview? Yah...not a good one.

I am in the slowest fucking traffic imaginable and it's not even rush hour! I'm not sitting in a sea of cars or anything, but EVERYONE is driving like grandpa on Sunday. Good GAWD people! Get the fucking lead out! I'm trying to make an interview here!!!

Believe it or not, I made it with about 7 minutes to spare, but not after I realized that, after parking perfectly in a space, the asshat next to me had chosen to park on the line. I had to squeeze my fat ass out of my door and between our two cars, getting lovely road dust from our cars on my black suit. FABULOUS...my day is going SO WELL! I'm ECSTATIC!

I manage to dust myself off while walking into the office and I make my way to her desk. I have minutes to spare! I'm breathing a sigh of relief and trying to calm my frantically beating heart. Whew!

The interview went fine. Nothing remarkable to say. I think I impressed her with my knowledge of sales and marketing (thank you education) even though I have not worked too much in either field. I know the principles...I just haven't had much of an opportunity to apply them. No biggee though, I've been working in a sales support role for 3 years assisting in large scale sales. I'm brought in to assist in closings because I can answer questions to seal the deal. I explain this...seems to be a good answer. I amazingly had an answer for any shortcomings she perceived. I hope that's a good thing. My reputation at the company is stellar so I'm sort of banking on it assisting me.

I make it back to my desk and I'm fucking busier than a whore on payday. The merger my company just went through has made everyone's work load double. I'm not kidding. It started on January 2nd and hasn't let up...not for a minute. It's extremely tiring. By 4:15, I wasn't eager to fight traffic so I packed up and headed home before traffic started parking along the roadways. I get home and my Blackberry buzzes, alerting me of a new email, and of course the customer from this morning's conference call needs a huge report ASAP and it's 4:55PM. Fucktard. He can't wait till first thing in the morning when I get to the office at 8AM. I don't know why since it's the end of the day and I doubt very much he'll be able to give it the attention it deserves considering the size and scope of the report he wants. Dicklick. I have to nip his constant attempt to control my time in the bud...Fuckwad.

I booted up and started working on it. I had the report, just needed to finesse it. No problem, but I was planning on heading to the gym before traffic really got messy. No dice. I was stuck there trying to send this bitch of a report to the Dicklick. It was a huge file and was taking a long time sending, even over my broadband connection. Fuck...I was getting pissed. What else is new?

I was so busy the minute I walked in the door that I failed to notice that Phoebe had crapped on the floor. Checking with Peabody I find out that he hasn't left his room all day (he slept, go figure) and never once took the poor dog out to do her thing. Did he expect her teeny, tiny bladder and turd purse were going to just put themselves on hold? I imagined her crossing her little legs and squeezing her sphincter several times during the day and cursing the day she was ever brought to our home. Little dickhead. I was ready to do battle, but I didn't have time. So I just reminded him that he was grounded and it was getting longer by the minute as he continued fucking up (not in those words).

He got up and took Phoebe out.

I worked, and worked. Screw dinner, I'm too tired. Peabody is 15, he can fend for himself.

Thank God for TiVo...I can relax and watch my soap. But the phone rings a gazillion times and makes it suck.

So I decide to do SuDoku for a while...a while turned into most of the night (except for when I watched Lost), then my vision blurred. Had to sleep, it was 11:45PM. Where the hell had the evening gone???

It's 3:59AM. Got up to pee..couldn't go back to sleep. Thought I would bitch about my day.

So, how was yours?

Cross Your Fingers...

...and pray to....whomever you believe in coz I interview for a new position at work today! I WANT THIS PUPPY BAAAAAAAAD! I am completely and totally qualified and I have a great reputation at work for making things happen and getting the job done.

But, all that being said, doesn't guaranteed a damn thing.

SO, please, please, please, my lovable and adorable blog friends, PRAY your ASSES off for me today!

Luv ya!

WHEW!!!!!!

I have the most fabulous boyfriend of all time. He just saved my ass. I will not become homeless after all. I will be paying him back, but I want to do something extra special for him.

Get your minds out of the gutter.

I know ya'll know that I like gettin' it on with him, but I need to do something "real" to show him how much he means to me and what this gesture means to me.

Suggestions? I'm all ears/eyes..whatevuh!

What's Yo Pimp Name, Biatch?

This is mine...

Your Pimp Name Is...

Sugar Lips Luv

What's Your Pimp Name?

YUM!

One of my favs! Tangy and cool, creamy and light. I guess this is me.

You Are Lemon Meringue Pie

You're the perfect combo of sassy and sweet Those who like you have well refined tastes

What Kind of Pie Are You?

I'm addicted to these little freakin' quizzes. Again, another addiction. I'm going to have to check into a rehab clinic that treats multiple addictions. I'm wondering if I'm not a lost cause!

Joke of the Day

***************************************************
Sarah, a recently widowed Jewish lady, was sitting on her beach towel at Delray Beach, Florida. She looked up and noticed that a man her age had just placed his blanket on the sand nearby and began reading a book.

Smiling, she attempted to strike up a conversation with him.

"Nice morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly is," he responded, and turned back to his book.

"I love the beach. Do you come here often?" she asked.

"First time since my wife passed away last year," he replied and again turned back to his book.

"Do you live around here?" she asked.

"Yes, I live over in Suntree," he answered, and then resumed reading.

Noticing a cat walking in the dune grass and trying to find a topic of common interest, Sara persisted.

"Do you like pussycats?"

With that, the man threw his book down, jumped off his blanket onto hers, tore off both their swimsuits and gave her the most passionate lovemaking of her life!

As the cloud of sand began to settle, Sarah gasped and asked the man, "How did you know that was what I wanted?"

The man replied, "How did you know my name was Katz?"
**************************************************
Joke courtesy of my mother. Go Mom.

Call the Undertaker

OMG, I'm dying.

Whatever my kid had, I think I now have.

Did someone stick a knitting needle in my ear while I was sleeping?

Perhaps they just stuck acid-soaked cotton balls in them.

I KNOW someone poured concrete up my nose when I was out.

Fuck.

Who Were YOU In Highschool?

Popular Kid

In high school, everyone knew your name - even if you didn't know theirs. In fact, your still skating by on your looks and charm. Nothing wrong with that!

Who Were You In High School?

Wow, I guess I probably was popular, but I LOATHED highschool like a papercut. The pretentious bitches, the sluts, the girls who always wanted to beat up other girls. And then there were the guys. The guys in my class were freakin' morons, with the exception of a couple I thought had it together.

For the most part, and KB can vouch for this...the chicks were twats and the dudes were cocks. Nuff said.

Goin' "Commando!"

I went "commando" last night for the very first time.

Strangely it didn't bother me like I thought it would. In fact, I'm still going "commando."

Going "commando" is Pablo's thing. In fact he only owns a couple of pairs of undies to go to the doctor in. I've always been a panty wearer. It's just what I've always know. I've always felt I needed a barrier between my monkey and my clothes...I feel nekkid otherwise! A camel toe display is another worry!

Pablo asked me to try it as a New Year's resolution and I'm sorry to say it took three weeks for me to actually do it.

Is it odd that I'm attached to my panties? Or, is it odd that I'm going to actually consider going "commando" as a fulltime thing?

Or, perhaps I'm just a freak. I'm sure many of you would agree with that.

I KNOW Pablo thinks I'm a freak, but he likes me that way so I'm not gonna complain. We likey gettin' freaky!

I'm going to give it a trial run for a week and see how I feel when it's over. I may end up being a "commando" queen when it's all over.

Only, I can't go completely "commando." My fun bags are just not the kind to go without the boulder holder. I might hurt someone with my swingin' sisters!

Master P: The P stands for "Pitiful!"

I just got to watch "Dancing With The Stars" on my Tivo.

DAMN!

If Master P is not voted off this damn show I WILL GOUGE OUT MY OWN EYES!

He is the sorriest "dancer" I've ever witnessed. OOOOH, my eyes! He's burning my retinas!

Pablo thinks that he's bald and that the Jeri-curlz he's sportin' are attached to his hat.

Poor Ashley, his partner. She makes him look even worse.

He is a genetic mistake. I heard neither went to their senior prom. At least now they have a senior prom photo.

Haloscan eats shit

I've had to re-install the twat at least 5 times or more. I'm about to pull my friggin' hair out and I can't afford to lose any of the baby hair I've got!

If anyone else has had trouble with Haloscan when first installing it, please let me know what you did to make it work properly. It's already eaten all of my previous comments on all of my previous posts. Fuckers.

I Wanna Be Rich...But I Sho Ain't!

This is gonna be me!!!









Is it me or is money annoying tight? I have NONE. I'm broke and I just got paid today. WTF? I'm sick of it! I have decided I can't afford my beautiful apartment any longer. It's just too expensive. Why does living in HOTlanta have to be that way!? I mean, I drive a Kia Sportage, while many of my neighbors drive BMW's, Lexus', Infinities, or something really sporty and expensive. I can't live with these rich folks any more! I have never been rich, but able to live semi-comfortably until now. It's sad and embarrassing to say the least.

Got too many bills I guess. Too many prescriptions and medical bills as well as credit cards I'm trying to pay off, and I never use BTW. Food and gas are kicking my ass. And for the record, I don't have a social life. I don't go anywhere but Pablo's and my parent's house. Just can't afford too. I'm praying I get the new position I applied for. Should be a lot more money and I am a very good candidate. Fingers crossed please!

The problem is, where do I move on short notice? I seriously think I'm going to have to break my lease. I cannot pay my rent, believe it or not. I'm sunk, baby!

Moving in with Pablo is NOT an option. I don't think we're quite ready for that, at least not for a few months, beside the fact that he lives in a studio apartment that is not much bigger than my walk-in closet! Not an option! Living with my parents? HELLS NO! No friends that have the room for two extra souls so I can's split rent or mortgage with them. I don't exactly have first and last months rent either for a new place. I think I'm up shit creek without a paddle.

What happened, you ask?

I did fine in this place for two years. But, my father kind of helped put my in my current situation. He loaned me some money to assist me thru the holidays as I have lately seemed to not have enough for anything other than living expenses. But, he asked for it back the next month (he's retired and decided he needed it too). I basically gave him my entire paycheck which didn't cover all of it. It was over Thanksgiving and I haven't bounced back from it. I'm not capable of doing so without a second job which, unfortunately, is out of the question as I travel for work on weekends for tradeshows and sometimes during the week for customer meetings, team meetings and the occassional training class. I'm fucking too damn busy for a second job, and I would totally work one too! I've worked three jobs before when Peabody was a little Pea, which sucked, but I did it because I had to. I hope I can figure out a way to just work a second one.

Sounds like I'm stuck doesn't it?

Anyone care to comment on my sad state of affairs or offer up feasible suggestions??

Looking for my comments!

Haloscan ate my comments on all my other postings!!! HELLS NO!!!

Memo to self: Get Kleenex for car

Thanks TJ for the resolution thingamajig. I likey!

In the year 2006 I resolve to: Pick my nose at stop lights. Get your resolution here

Instead of everywhere else :)

Fun with Phoebe

I know I blogged about Phoebe once already today, but it HAS been a banner day for her so I thought I would share a picture of the fun she's had whilst I've been blogging this evening. Such a proud accomplishment for Phoebe. She's disemboweled her Squidward tug toy and she's de-fluffed one of my travel pillows.

She's napping now. She put in a hard days work.

Posting or Boasting?

My BF, Pablo, believes that we bloggers (as addicted to blogging as we all are) are losers. I think he believes this because he imagines us sitting in front of our computers mostly all day awaiting breathlessly for any and all comments to our blogs and posting on the strangest shit ever.

Pablo has decided that we bloggers think that we are so clever that we have to validate each other's cleverness by blogging with each other back and forth.

So yes, we're fucking clever Pablo Fucktard! Aren't you jealous?

Nope, he's not. So he says. I bet he wishes he had the opportunity to play this way! He's stuck in a new job he hates.

Neiner, neiner, neiner!!

He believes that what we do shouldn't be called "posting", but rather "boasting."

He's an assface.

Pablo is going to get a beating this weekend, and not the good kind! I wonder if my foot will fit up his junk? I'm going to wear golf shoes.
I don't think we're losers at all. We have just found the creative outlet we needed to vent our frustrations, ills, ridiculings, hecklings, and annoyances. It is simply an added bonus that we get to comment on each other's postings and allow us to become "blog friends." I look forward to hearing what my newfound friends have to say about my rantings, ravings, and bullshit. I ENJOY reading what your days are like and the asshats you all have to deal with.

So to all of my fellow "alleged blog losers" I say THANK-YOU for being my pal and visiting my blog!

Now Pablo is saying that "pal" is an acronym for Personal Ass Licker.

Blow me Pablo.

Doggy Doo

I love my dog. Phoebe is my baby, aside from my son, but I'm going to kick my dog in her teeny, tiny, turd trap.

WTF???

I take her out, walk her for what seems like a half hour or more without dumping, then bring her in and she immediately takes a crap behind the couch.

Again, WTF????

Confessions of a Blogaholic

"Hello everyone. My name is The Divine Ms. M. and I'm a Blogaholic."

"hello Ms. M" drones the crowd.

Woe is me...I have to admit it. I have become a blogaholic.

I can't resist the sweet temptation to check my blog and read comments from my blog friends. It's irresistable! It's like mother's milk! I mainline blogging! God help me!

Is there a rehab clinic for blogger addicted people? A twelve step program?

I have to put blame where blame is due. She will forgive me I suppose, but I think she is addicted too.

Everyone...blame KB for addicting me! I would call her a cunty biatch, but she isn't. She's a victim just like me. She held the heroine out for me to try and I attacked it like flies to shit! No, she introduced me to blogging, but I have to take some blame for making my way to my blog continually, all day, every day.

I can't help myself!

AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

Whew!!! I almost lost it.

Yup. I'm addicted. Raise your hand if think you may be too.

Cold? Ask this bitch's tits

My left tit fell out of my swim suit at the gym tonight. Yes, it really fell out, continually while I tried to swim. I had to finally give it up. My tits are just too fucking big and need to be reduced...seriously! I loathe them. I'm going to buy a granny swim suit that comes up to my neck to keep the fat bags from flopping out for all to see.

Now, I know there are women out there who complain that they don't have enough tits to fill a thimble, but let me tell you, the opposite is just as much of a bloody bitch. SO, suck it up sisters! At least you can cross your arms over your chests (or lack thereof) successfully. I can't even do that!!! My crossed arms rest on TOP of my funbags which is ridiculous looking. I look like I'm Jeannie from "I Dream of Jeannie" as she's blinking to grant a wish. My arms are "resting" at freakin shoulder level for fuck's sake!

Lying on my back in bed is a pain because my hooters fall toward my neck, making it difficult to breathe, SERIOUSLY. I can't lay on my stomach because they're in the way and hurt when you put your body weight on them. Laying on my side is tantamount to suffocation as well. The boobs fall toward my neck and one lay on top of the other. It's lovely, really attractive. Especially having "relations" with Pablo. They are bouncing all over the place!

I'm queefing irritatedly.

Mammaries suck...they SUCK. I dream of being a 34B or even a 36C. Instead I'm a 38G, yep I said it. a 38G! How could that ever be construed as a good thing???

I want breast reduction and a lift. The weight of my knockers pulls em down and now they look like tube socks with a softball in each one. Okay, they're not that bad, but they are too big! Plus, the weight of these melons have caused me untold amounts of back pain. My chiropractor is making some cash off my tottie caused pain. The bastard.

I want to cut off my tits!

I mean, I'm done having babies so I don't have a reason to breast feed anymore, which, BTW, is the reason for said funbags stretching to my navel! Fuckers. The only reason to keep them is getting it on with Pablo! Actually, my funbags are not the focal point when we're doing the deed...hehehe. Pablo likes things further "south of the border."

Give me normal "dirty pillows" or give me...for starters, how about a sports bra big enough to hold these puppies down! How about a swim suit that won't stretch out from them so the monsters won't escape! I just want to buy normal sized shirts and normal sized bras for fuck's sake! I dream of buying a bra in a normal store. Is that retarded? Probably, but mark my words, some day I will have NORMAL sized gonzagas.

I should just name the bitches and get it over with. Suggestions anyone?

Donna Reed Mom Training 101

I must be a shitty mom. My kid came home from school yesterday with an earache and a scratchy throat. Said he just didn't feel good. I, as usual, figured he was "crying wolf" just to be able to come home and sleep as is his usual M.O. To my utter amazement the kid got really sick as the day progressed. He ended up with a 101 degree temp and was up and down all night. I'm horrid. I don't even know when my kid is really sick. The kicker to really bring the point home is that he hasn't eaten in 24 hours or more. He's not hungry. That is NOT my kid. My son, 15 year old "Peabody" is an EATER and has been since day one of his life. Lack of hunger is a sure sign something stinks.

In my defense, Peabody has always faked illness to come home early from school or even to stay home the entire day. He'll nap, because he's also a SLEEPER, then just as all the kiddies are jumping off the school bus he miraculously recovers and wants to play outside. Now, I know he's 15 and doesn't actually "play" anymore, but his best friend just lives behind us and they both play guitar so they like to jam together after school. Of course, after he got home yesterday, Peabody asked me to make sure he was up in time to meet up with said BFF so he could go over there. That was another reason I thought he was faking, so I nixed it. Good thing I did. Peabody is STILL in bed over 24 hours later. I got him something to eat for lunch today and he didn't touch it. WHOA!

Still, I think I may be a shitty mother sometimes. I've been guilty of letting the kid pull the wool over my eyes a few times, not intentionally letting him, but legitimately being fooled. Idiot, I know! But, for the most part, the kid is usually honest with me. He's just a sleepaholic and will use any excuse to be able to sleep. I'm trying to work with him to help him become more responsible, but it ain't going so well. I lack something...not sure what...maybe I just wasn't born with that Donna Reed gene. I love the kid more than my life and would die or kill for him, but I'm just not sure what it is I'm missing to make me a great mom.

Anyway, I'm working from home, checking on him ever hour and enjoying the quiet solitude while I get some work done. It's amazing how much more work I get done at home. No co-workers to bother me with trivial questions or ask for my help on something on which I had no initial involvement. Just me and the sick kid, the dog, and my t.v. for background noise. Oh, and a headache. I have one. I hope I'm not getting fucking sick now! Not like I have anything major going on at work the next two days, I CAN work from home, but when you're sick you just want to sleep and vegetate so you can feel better. Working just prolongs my agony. I hate taking a sick day before the first month of the year isn't even over yet! Besides, even though I take a sick day doesn't mean I won't get people expecting me to get out of sick bed to do something for them. It's inevitable. Fuckwads.

The only bright spot to my day is that Pablo dropped in to have lunch with me. What a wonderful sweetie. Taking his lunch break to spend it with me and sick kid. I'm going to post on something that will probably freak ya'll out regarding Pablo, myself and Peabody. But I'm saving it. It needs some build up...a "crescendo" if you will. It's like an Oprah story. In fact, a couple of my friends have "threatened" to contact Oprah to put me on the show. That's all I'm saying for now. I'll give details later when more info comes to light.

TTFN!

Burn, Baby Burn...OUT

It's the first day back at work for me. I had MLK's birthday off and did nothing of any particular interest or value. I'm feeling rather slackerish. Is that a word? If not, I just invented it.

I'm feeling generally disengaged from everything at the moment. I know I just had a week and a half off at the holidays, but I swear I need more. I'm severely burned out. I have these two new account managers that I'm working with, both ladies in their 50's. I have to say, no offense to my sex, but I prefer working with men in that role. These ladies just annoy the ever-living shit out of me. SG & MSC are both fashion plate lovelies who each drive Mercedes' and think their shit doesn't stink. WTF? The men I've worked with in the same role seem so much more real and approachable.

I think the problem is the "glass ceiling" for women. We all think we have to work twice as hard as a man to get to the same place or, heaven help us, ahead! I think it's true, we have to shine brighter to get noticed. I feel sorry for these women who have to bust their asses six times harder. Doesn't seem fair. I wish they DIDN'T annoy me. I guess I should cut them a break and just work my ass off right next to them so they get ahead, and by association, I will get ahead because I really make their promises to the customer come to fruition. I am the magic maker behind the scenes. Somehow I don't get the recognition for making things happen, such as said Account Manager promises. They do nothing but talk, while I am the action. I gots ta get outta this job!

I just wish their voices weren't so fuckin' grating! MSC's isn't so bad, but SG's is like nails on a chalkboard! They both are very happy to now have me on their accounts as I make shit happen if I have to pull it out of my ass and spit shine it first. My job sucks and I want a new one! I don't like being the shit spit shiner!!!

Do I sound like a whiner? I am not seriously that much of a whiner. I DO get pissed off about retarded stuff and stooopid people, but who the fuck doesn't? I hate fucktards who just don't get it. Unfortunately I seem to work with several of such said fucktards. Is there a school or a class that these imbeciles can take to move beyond their fucktardedness? ANYWHERE?

So work sucks. Life's a bitch, then you die (or marry one if your an eligible catch of a man). C'est la vi. Had enough? Yah, me too.

Later friends.

WTF? FU. TTFN. BFF....Acronym HELL

Pablo has, as he describes it, "an overwhelming need to turn statements of facts into acronyms." For example: today it's "colder than a witch's tit," which is what I said. He said, "WT in a BB," which apparently means "witch's tit in a brass bra." It saves time, according to Pablo. It also makes people think hard to decipher what you're saying. Okay, I get it, but I hate having to think hard. It sucks. Makes my brain hurt. Pablo thinks I'm retarded! I think he's right. WTF (What The Fuck), obviously one of my faves, is used quite often by Pablo and myself. Also "TFA" (Totally Fucking Awesome). I get to hear this when quite often we eat.

I'm learning new acronyms every day from Pablo, along with a lot of useless technical trivia. He's a veritable font of useless technical trivia. But, I AM learning. It's not true what they say about old dogs I guess. But I'm not seriously comparing myself to a dog. At least I hope no one else would.

Okay, gotta go hit the tempurpedic...I'm feeling better so BJ's abound. And hopefully muff diving. I think the masterful boning that I'm getting has upped the endorphin quotient enough to kick this cold, or whatever I had, in the meat curtain (nick-name courtesy of Pablo-he's good for lots of things!).

Cheerio and happy knob polishing!!

TTFN! See You Next Tuesday ;)

The "Mullet" - Making a Comeback?

OMG...please tell me I didn't see two, count em "2", mulletts in 24 hours. You know, 10-90, business in the front, party in the back. Oh, wait...yup...I just vomited a bit in the back of my mouth. That's how vile these horrific haircuts are. Why would someone want to denegrate themselves with such a hideous looking. long past fashion? Do they think they look good? Is it that they simply want to have little maintenance in the front while maintaining that wild and free long main of flowing locks? Ewe. There's the vomit again.

I challenge all of you out there. When you see a person with a mullet, grab a pair of scissors and cut the shit off! Force the NOW onto their head. *Sorry, I just got out of a training seminar that "the NOW" was a catch phrase.* Let them know that they are an eyesore, a blight, a nightmarish vision for the world to see. They're even worse on women! WTF????

ah...Ah...AH....CHOOOOOO! *sniff*

Work travel sucks. I always end up sick and this last trip to Nashville is no exception. I ended up with a shitty cold, plus sinus infection, plus sore throat. I feel like death and I have a customer lunch meeting to go to today. No big deal, I just feel shitty. I am not the person who planned this lunch. Maybe I could bail since the old National Account Manager and the new National Account Manager are both going to be there. But, I AM the Customer Relationship Manager...I guess I should be there. FUCK.

I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing, 3-day weekend, sleeping in Pablo's fabulous Tempurpedic bed and having all the sex I want. Now I'm sick and I can't expose Pablo, and I sure as hell ain't giving any BJ's this weekend with my throat this way.

My kid decided he didn't want to go to school this morning. Couldn't get his ass moving. I'm sick of having an "almost" adult in the house and still having to be on him like he's four to get him to move. I told him if he wanted me to treat him like an adult he's gotta start acting like one. When the FUCK did I become my parents? Good God. I think he hates me. Teenage angst is a bitch.

I know a while back I mentioned that my doctor put me into temporary menopause to control the pain from Adenomyosis (Endometriosis in the interal muscular walls of the uterus). The therapy is Lupron, which is supposed to be some nasty shit. I've had some hot flashes and major cold spells, obviously controlling my temperature is a side effect. But for the most part I've been pretty damn good. I haven't really had any mood swings, but I will say that my temper is a bit quicker. Strangely only with my teenager. I'm not overly emotional, I haven't cried once. My skin could look a tad better, but for the most part I'm the same. This therapy is supposed to be a major bitch, but I can't complain. Hell, I've not had a period in almost two months and I won't have another one until the therapy is over in another four! Wahoo baby! I go see the doc this morning. The question is, once I come off this therapy, knowing that the pain will come back as bad as before, do I go ahead and get the partial hystectomy? I can have them leave my ovaries so I don't go head first into menopause until I'm supposed to. Or, do I go BACK on THE STRONGEST birth control pill for pain? That's a toughy...NOT REALLY. I'm done having kids, as is Pablo. Why deal with more periods if I don't have to? The fact that I will remain menopause free until I am supposed to go through it is the biggest plus. What would you do if you were me?

Okay, I'm feeling crappy. I'm gonna lay down for a few minutes before I have to get my day going. FUCK...I don't want to work! WAHHHHH! I'm a fucking baby I know, but I'm still recoving from that fast 24 hour trip to Nashville that we had to DRIVE to because my director was too cheap to let us fly. The air fare was about $700 for a direct flight so I can understand, but my back aches from sitting in a car seat for almost five hours yesterday and the day before, plus sitting in meetings once we got there. ICK. Life is wonderful.

We're born, we work, we die...fun.

WTF? WAH! My Freakin' HEAD!!!

Wow! I have a doozie of a hangover. I'm in Nashville for my company's regional sales launch for '06. DAMN, I don't remember drinking so much. But I'm pretty sure I did. Cocktails, wine. More wine, more cocktails. Ouch...did I go to a bar after? Oh yah, I did with my old Director and saw my current Director there. Did I argue politics while drunk? Ooooh, that probably wasn't pretty. I was probably on my soap box and probably incoherent. Nice impression to make at a regional launch where everyone will probably remember. Usually I'm talking about sex, but I guess my brain was in a better place. Somehow I ended up arguing with some dude I really don't know about the lies thte administration told to get the country into war. This guy said they weren't lies. WTF? Who WAS that fucking idiot. Everyone in the free world knows this story, but this guy thinks we have a shining example of a president. OK...keep dreamin' buddy. Fucking moron. Too fucking bad he was cute too.

My alarm didn't go off...fuck. Thank God for my internal body clock or I'd be fucked. Now I have to jump in the shower and head down for breakfast. I could eat the north end of a southbound rhino right now. Oooh, nasty visual...now I may...yup, I may vomit...easy....easy....breathe. No rhinos here. Good. I'm better. OMG, I feel shitty...what a fucking headache! A shower will make me feel much better, I'm sure, as long as I don't fall asleep standing up I'll be fine. I wish it didn't hurt to see. My eyes aren't focusing well...just looking...at anything...hurts. Boo, fucking hoo, right? Right. Okay. I've whined enough...time to hit to the shower and check out of this place. Gotta run my friends.

Buh-Bye!

Outtie for a couple. Miss me yet?

Hello kiddies. It's 5:28 AM EST and I'm about to get my ass on the road to Nashville, TN. My company is having our 2006 Regional Sales Launch meeting and I HAVE to be there, unfortunately.

Don't get me wrong, I really love Nashville. It's a town FULL of character and...um...characters. TRULY. But, because it's only 3.5 to 4 hrs from where I live and plane tickets are SO high, my Director decided his Atlanta team would drive in carpools of rental cars. LOVELY. SO, gotta git my wide load ass to the office to meet the crew for the overnighter.

I may not get to post or read any blogs of my lovely buddies for a couple of days so I'm begging, PLEASE don't post too much or I wont' be able to keep up with it all and I DON'T WANT TO MISS A THING! **Aerosmith singing in my head.**

So, this fatty is outtie and I can't wait to see all your stuff. Sorry KB, haven't learned to blog from my phone yet, but the good news is I can audio blog if I'm thinking about it. I may just report from the Opryland Hotel all the fucktards I'm seeing. It is a SALES meeting after all (are you thinking cheesy used car sales man?), but they are Corporate Sales folks selling to CEO's and CFO's an COO's so they think they are WAY above everyone else. I'm not a sales rep, but I'm a Customer Relationship Manager (Jack of all trades/master of none), working direclty with these queef eaters, and part of the management team so I gots ta be there. Fucking bullshit. My queefs are ANGRY to be up and on the road already!

Luv'n'stuff to ya'll from the lovely South! Kisses!

Diet: Four Letter Word...

Pablo and I ate Italian tonight. Surprised he was hungry after the tuna boat he munched on prior to our jaunt to Cardamuro's. That Pablo loves his tuna canoes!! I'm happy to serve it up too!

Anyway, we decided that tonight was our last night of eating unhealthily and not working out. We went to a kick-ass gym and joined today. It's got a lap pool, basketball court, the entire upstairs is cardio, it's got so much else I can't list it. In fact, the best part, I didn't see any skinny, queefing, Barbiesque swizzel sticks pretending to "work out" to catch some unsuspecting brain-dead moron.

Pablo and I joined the gym together and we plan on making our first trip tomorrow after work. I hope I can burn some of this fat ass off. Pablo says it's just more of me to love and I could bitch slap his face off. Though this may be sweet, I don't want him talking about my fat. I would rather he pretend I'm a queefingly hot goddess whom he must fuck unendingly until my eyes pop out of my skull and my twat falls off from overuse.

We also start a new diet tomorrow. He says 'low-carb' works best for him. He says swimming 6 times a week, plus low-carbing should make him lose 10 lbs by his birthday which is 2 weeks away.

Why the fuck do men lose weight so goddamned easily? I wish I could ram these men in the ass with a huge fucking cork so the food they eat can't leave their body and it turns to FAT. I want their ASSES to get as FAT as MINE! I want to see MAN BOOBS develope! If it were a fair world they'd even get milk out of them!

Anyway, I'm going to go ahead and do a diabetic diet I did when I got diagnosed with PCOS and borderline Type II Diabetes 4 years ago. It's not as strict as Adkins, but it is centered on eating the right carbohydrates rather than restricting them severely, plus I will have to eat the right fats, rather than a stick of butter and a slab of bacon for breakfast. My delicate heart might queef to death over that!

I may be even crankier than I have been lately on my blog so everyone just watch. If I lose weight I'll let you know how much, but I'm sure as hell not publishing my fucking weight on this thing. Hopefully ya'll can give any advise you may have for weight loss. I'm Insulin Resistant so I don't use glucose as efficiently as most so I have the fucking hardest time losing weight and absolutely NO trouble putting on 10 lbs in a couple of days. Any constructive advise is welcome.

Happy dieting my friends. Don't forget to queef before stepping on the scale!

You're Bed or Mine?

Is there anyone out there who hasn't heard of a tempurpedic bed? It's the Swedish memory foam bed that costs about $1700 for a queen set. I had never slept on one before until I started dating Pablo. He HAD to have one. He had one during his previous marriage and learned that he coudn't sleep on a regular spring mattress.

Fuckin' Aye.

I have a regular spring mattress that I bought about 14 years ago. It was fabulous back then and even through several years, but lately it's starting to break down a bit. Let me put it this way. When I wake up in the morning my lower back feels as though Gene Simmons stood on my back doing the Irish Riverdance with his humongous chunky boots from his KISS days. Now, if it was Pablo doing it, and I wasn't trying to sleep, that might be a turn on. I certainly don't mind if my back pain is from Pablo fucking me into a pretzel as he tends to do when he's nailing me six ways to Sunday. Unfortunately, we think it may be my bed. My bed may becoming a peice of shit.

Don't think that I don't hear it from Pablo too. He will only sleep at my house one fucking night a week because he claims he doesn't sleep as well as he does on his tempurpedic bed. I agree with this, but since I'm forced to sleep in my bed most of the time because I still have a kid at home you would think Pablo Fucktard would compromise and sleep in my bed more than one night a week. I mean, come on. We're talking about a ride from my magic carpet, er, well...there's no carpet...but getting off topic. He is always trying to get me to his house instead.

Now the funny part about me staying at his house? We never have sex there. EVER. Strange, I know. The bed is so damn tranquil to sleep in. The minute you lay your angelic lil' head on the fabulous tempurpedic pillows you drift into a deep and almost dreamless sleep. You don't move, you just lay like a turd in sand. It's un-fucking-real sleep. I mean, you immediately WANT to sleep. It's impossible to stay awake. So, having sex just doesn't happen.

On my bed, however, the minute we get into bed and turn the lights off we start humping away on each other. And let me tell you, I have to keep my kitty screeches quiet at my place. I have a kid and a behemoth of a neighbor upstairs whom I'm afraid might break down the door and rape my Pablo based soley on my shrieks of lust, "FUCK ME HARDER!" that she probably hears through the floor. It sucks, but I control my noise, dammit.

I know it sounds as though we're only having sex once a week when he stays at my house, but he's AT my house every day so we get in some serious kitty play at least every other day while Peabody is at his buddy's house playing video games or guitar. No kid equals playing hide the salami... A LOT.

But, wait a minute. Maybe that is why my back hurts so much. I'm always getting my pink canoe pounded by his fat man till my eyes roll back in my head IN my bed. I bet it's not my bed that sucks so much...it's the continued fuckfest we have IN my bed. I guess we'll have to test out the tempurpedic for it's ability to eliminate my back pain after getting my ass nailed to the headboard. I shall let you all know once we've investigated several times to make sure we obtain the same results. You must be objective during research you know. I want my results to be untainted! I just hope I can walk when the testing is through!

Wish me luck in my Fuck Quest!

Check out.....

If you get BBC (cable or satellite) you really need to check out the show "Peep Show." I have never laughed so hard in my life as I have at this hysterical show. It's about 2 British guys who share an apartment in England and it revolves around their everyday work and social lives. The most unique part that makes this sit-com so damn funny is that it's shot from the character's point of view as though their eyes are the camera. Plus you get to hear the thoughts of the character who's point of view is being shown at the time. It is so funny I "Season Pass'd" it on my TiVo and I can't wait for more! I think there are only 6 episodes of this show, but DAMN it's fucking hilarious! Two polar opposite guys sharing a place...it's kind of like the Odd Couple meets the word FUCK. And these two are fucking wacked.

Mark is a loan officer who is in love with Sophie, a co-worker, though she doesn't really know he likes her. He's somewhat confused, at times, about his sexuality too. The last episode I watched had Mark with a 'man-crush' on some savvy business guy named "Johnson." Mark is a neat freak, he doesn't really party or do drugs like his roommate Jeremy, though he does hang out with him. He is stalked by a band of pre-teen boys who call him "Clean Shirt" and constantly kick him in the ass as he walks home from the bus. He also obsesses about his misshapen genitalia.

Jeremy is trying to make it in the music biz and thinks he's Ozzie Osborn's sound alike. Mark thinks Jeremy's music is funny, rather than good, and that pisses Jeremy off. Jeremy likes their neighbor Toni and she could give a fuck less about him, but he continues to try. He has a friend in his band called "Super Hans". He's a serious druggy and, again, in the last episode I watched, he and Super Hans hung out together getting totally FRIED, so much in fact that Jeremy didn't remember until the end of the show that he and Super Hans blew each other. Something he apparently would never do sober. I fucking cried laughing over his eventual realization!

You all must check this shit out! I'm SERIOUS. I think it's worth it anyway. Mark and Jeremy call their little duo "El Dude Brothers." Total FREAKS! Thank GOD for TiVo! And, thank Pablo for introducing me to this show! He's gonna get a seriously hot BJ for that one!

The Whole Fam Damily: Dysfuntionality at it's finest!

Okay, obviously this is not MY family, but I always crack up when I see it.

Anyway, I've decided it's time to give those, who are most prevalent in my life, nicknames in my postings to protect the innocent (and not so innocent-you know who you are!). They are my family (mostly) and they mean the world to me so I thought I would give them appropriate names. Hope you like them. You'll be seeing them a lot!

D: My boyfriend's name that I call him in my posts is always "D", but I've decided to give him a nickname that correspondes to his penis...Pablo. So in all my posts you'll now see him referred to as Pablo. Pablo is our nickname for his penis so that's his nickname on my blog. The man can make me cum just by looking at me with is hot baby blues! Ay Chiwahwah!!!

J: "J" is my 15 year old son and I always refer to him by first initial, the same as I did for Pablo. I would like to refer to him as SlackAss because he does nothing but sleep, eat, play Xbox and his electric guitar, or watch Comedy Central and MTV. I'm disturbed by this. His room and bathroom should be declared a federal disaster area. But, because I love the kid beyond all reason I'm going to call him "Peabody," something I called him when he was a baby, as in the "cutest little pea in the pod." Okay, I know I'm demented...just go with it will ya?!

Mom: Now known as "Mamo." She is my mother but the grandkids call her Mamo. She's the greatest, the glue that holds our family together, but can be negative sometimes which happens to have rubbed off on my youngest sister who also happens to live with my parents with her two kids. Lovely huh? Lil' sis screwed herself (quite literally) by having her first baby at 17 (no wonder Mamo is negative!). My parents were strangely okay with her getting knocked up so young. Probably because I already had had a baby (I was older of course) and they were in love with the 1st grandchild, plus Zoloft is the baby. My mother is very grandchild-centric, as most grannies are. "Mamo" was her idea rather than grandma...she said she didn't like feeling old, (she was 45 one granchild #1 was born) but she's 60, isn't that considered old?

Little Sister: Normally I would refer to her by her first intitial "K", but I think I'll refer to her as "Zoloft." She needs it! She is negative 100% of the time and she has been chemically depressed since birth, she's now 31 so you can imagine what fun she is to be around. She SHOULD be on anti-depressants but isn't. My poor parents!

Dad: I normally call him "Pop" to his face and I'm the only one. My sisters call him "Dad," which is so queefily generic. I think "Pop" is fine, but he has become the crankiest old fart since he retired (YOUNG) at 55. He's about to turn 59 and it only gets worse. He could use a Miracle Ear for fuck's sake. So I was going to call him "The Grouch," but I will call him "Bapo" as Peabody couldn't say Grandpa as a toddler. He nicknamed the whole family with names like that. Bapo is cranky because he and Mamo have practically raised Zoloft's children while she works (but doesn't make enuff to support said kiddies). No wonder he's cranky, he says he's "already raised my kids" and doesn't like raising hers even though he would die if anything happened to them. Still cranky tho. I think Bapo could use a long vacation!

Older Sister: I would call her "J", her first initial, but I think I'll call her "Pretentia" for her occassional pretentiousness. She lives in Manhattan with her hubby and my adorable nephew (#2). She's a stay at home mom with 2 bachelor's degrees and a masters degree, I know you're thinking "WTF??" as I wonder that myself. She could do anything and used to make a large 6 figure salary before he came along. My nephew will surpass Einstein in genius anyday now with her as his mother. She's fucking smarter than most people and she can be pretentious as hell. I love her, don't get me wrong, she's very good to me, she just can be "above" others at times if you know what I mean.

My niece: I shall call her "Gothica" because she would love to be "goth" as much as she can, though Zoloft, Mamo and Bapo won't let her leave the house looking as "Goth" as she would like. She will be 14 this year and uses the word "gay" about pretty much everything, as in "That show is so gay," or "Smells like gay cheese," one of her favorites.

Nephew #1: I love this kid so much and he's adorable as hell with his blonde hair. For a long time it was thought that he had ADD. He is way too focused sometimes for this and his psychiatrist has now decided that he may have a bit of autism. The kid has a history of obsessing about "out of the ordinary" things for his age, from birth to present (he's 8). He first obsession was vaccum cleaners at age 2. His second was toilets, his third dinosaurs, his fourth cigars (making them out of brown construction paper)...you get it. But, I'm going to call him "Toehead" for his blonde hair rather than anything about ADD, Autism or OCD. I couldn't do that to the lil' sweetie.

Littlest Nephew (#2): This adorable little smarty pants will be called "Einstein" because he has probably watched all the Baby Einstein DVD's 100 times each and he speaks in full sentences and he's not even 3 yet. He's also off the charts for growth. His dad is 6'4" and my sister, Pretentia, is 5'11". In case you're wondering, I'm barely 5'4". Pretentia and I have different fathers, though Bapo (my Pop) is 6'1", I got all the short, shitty genes from both sides of the family. Really sucks.

So, that's basically my family. Wait! One more!

Sherry: She isn't my sister, but she might as well be. She's my best friend. She looks like Jessica Rabbit (my pic on my profile) much more than I ever will. Auburn hair, busty and a work-out-a-holic, plus men fall in love with her the moment they lay eyes on her. She's got that "it" factor going on. I will call her "Ho" because that's just what I call her (yes, to her face). She calls me "Slut" so I'm not really dissing her. I love the Ho so I'm allowed to call her that...no one else better though. I'm a mean slut when in defense of friends and family!

Okay, here is the list in an no particular order:

Mom = Mamo
Dad = Bapo
Son = Peabody
Lil Sis = Zoloft
Older Sis = Pretentia
Neice = Gothica
Nephew 1 = Toehead
Nephew 2 = Einstein
Boyfriend "D" = Pablo (he's not Hispanic BTW)
Best Friend Sherry = Ho

Get to know em, you'll see them often.

Later my lovelies!!

Tuesday...Hell In A Handbasket

Have you ever had one of those days that begin badly and just get suckier from there? It's kind of like biting your cheek while eating and then continuing to bite down on that sore spot everytime you chew. You can't win.

Tuesday started off okay. I woke up in D's bed after a sexless night's sleep. It was actually awesome. I slept pretty damn well in his tempurpedic bed. Getting off topic...

Okay, I made my way home without incident. It was a nice day, or so I thought. I walked into my house and low and behold my dog, Phoebe, left me a couple of lovely presents. Dog turds and dog vomit. So lovely to see what it looks like coming out of one end and then the other. Lovely smell too.

I thought I would take my time getting ready for work. About 8 AM or so I took the dog out and made myself breakfast. I ate pretty healthy and was feeling pretty good even after the dog shit/vomit incident. I headed to my room when my friend in IL two-way radioed me. We chatted for a bit about nothing special, but that nothing special turned into an almost hour or so conversation.

This will be my first day back at work so I just happened to check my BlackBerry at about 9:24 AM, for the first time in over a week, for my daily agenda. Still haven't showered at this point. There it is...FUCK!!!!! I have a 10:30 team meeting in Marietta! I live in Suwanee, GA which is a Northeast suburb of Atlanta. It's about 35 miles from Marietta, about a 40 minute drive in good traffic. I hadn't even gotten a shower yet! FUCK!!!!!

So, I jump off the phone and grabbed my clothes, run into the bathroom, wash my face, throw on some makeup and try over and over again to make my hair look like I didn't just roll out of bed! OH MAN, it looks like I've had sex and I didn't even get lucky at all! I just slept like a rock so my hair just looked like shit. Why does hair have to look like you've been hanging upside down all night? It took about 15 minutes to get my hair up to look decent and I ran out of the house, but not before I realized I'd left my leather jacket at D's house. Double fuck.

I hit the road at 10:04 AM, just as my lead calls me to ask if I'm on the road yet.

Me: "Yes, I just left."
T: "I'm about 10 minutes away."
Me: "Really, well I'm about 35 minutes away, I'm going to be about 5 to 10 minutes late."
T: "I think everyone forgot about this meeting."

Yes, we all were going to be late. Tuesday had turned into Monday simply because Monday the 2nd was a company holiday. I hate Monday's and I hate the first day back to work after vacation. It really sucks. My director should be shot for scheduling a meeting the first day back at work. I'm sure we all had plenty of crap to cover from being on vacation aside from his retarded meeting on Industry Verticals.

I get to the meeting only 1 minute late...I'm a speed demon. I was lucky I didn't get ticketed for going 30 miles over the speed limit, but apparently everyone else was in just as much of a hurry. The meeting had technical difficulties so it started late, lucky me.

Where was the coffee? No coffee for this meeting? What about lunch? This meeting went right up to lunch time and it was a "team" meeting! Come on Mr. Director, take care of your staff! So, I didn't get coffee, which I hadn't had at breakfast, or lunch. Chalk it up for another fucked up morning.

I get to work and get bombarded by bullshit. Jan 3rd is the official melding of the two company's merger. We are officially working off both platforms and I should be knowledgeable, but I'm not because the company hasn't provided enough cross training on each other's systems yet. Lovely. My customer's expect me to know it all, in the past I've been a veritable font of knowledge as it is my job to know just about all I can, but this time, I'm a clueless bitch. I play it off that I'm getting up to speed, which of course I'm so far from it, but my customer's are not too pushy...YET.

I make it home during rush hour without too much incident. I need D to pick up my son at my parent's house because he's not had to go back to school yet. That should be fun for him I think. My son is 15 and not a happy camper about me dating at all. But he's coming along. I expect them to ride in total silence with D attempting to make small talk. I'm sure it's excruciating for both.

I get home and immediately start making dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs with salad and garlic bread. The meatballs are homemade turkey meatballs and they turn out pretty damn well if I do say so myself, but I end up with less spaghetti sauce than I thought and my pasta ends up a little over done. Fuck. I'm no Martha Stewart. You probably already figured that out though.

So the bitch of dinner isn't so bad after all, D went to get some sauce at the store to supplement and I sent him home a huge container of spaghetti...he didn't stay over...damn was I jonesin' for his johnson by now too. Such is life I suppose. Strangely, he and my son got along on the ride home. But they both decided that they hate my little truck...I have small, but brand new, SUV. It's only 4 cyclinders but why do I need a huge engine that is a gas hog? I just drive back and forth to work for fucks' sake. D drives a monster quad cab Hemi V8 so he thinks he's got a man's truck...and he does. I just happen to have a truck designed for a woman. I don't need to run over Mini Coopers and Toyota Prius's. I'm just trying to get from point A to point B without incident. At least they found common ground. Fuckers.

Okay, enough about my fucking vehicle. D leaves after fixing my kitchen faucet which apparently started leaking and my garbage disposal breaks as well. Yippee fucking skippee. Isn't life so much fucking fun? All I needed now was a case of raging Avian Flu and a scorching case of herpes and gonnorhea. LOVELY.

I finally make it to bed, needing to be fucked like nobody's business and I'm tired as hell after a sucky day at work and making a huge mess in my kitchen that I had to clean up. Oh, don't forget, the dog has to go out too and she wants to RUN HER ASS OFF. So I got dragged all over God's green earth. Some moron didn't take their trash out apparently and an animal had dragged chicken bones out of it. Phoebe went for those like a death row prisoner getting conjugal pussy for the last time. I had to fight those fucking little greasy bones out of her mouth and throw the fuckers into the woods. But, not before Phoebes got some small bits of bone eaten. Fuck. Now she's gonna be sicker than shit all over my house.

But my story doesn't end with bedtime. My son apparently slept most of the day away as most 15 year old boys will do. He was up playing his guitar when I went to bed around 10 PM and I told him to put that damn thing away and get some sleep. "I will Mom" he promises...right.

About 3:30 he comes into my room.

J: "Mom, I can't sleep"
Me: "What else is new?"
J: " Can I lay down with you for a while"
Me: "Do you have to?" (Remember that I'm half asleep)
J: "I can't sleep in my bed, but I always can in yours. Please?"
Me: "Alright (sigh heavily), get in, but only for a little while."

Now, my kid is big. Not fat, just a full grown person and he is a bed hog. I HATE it when he sleeps in my bed. He's not a little boy anymore, which sucked when he would sneak into bed with me even then. He used to kick me in the back and I'd get elbowed in the head. I know what you're thinking. I should never have ever allowed him to sleep in my bed. Easier said than done. When he was sick as a little guy it was easier to keep tabs on him and get him better, plus it allowed me to get a bit more sleep and be more readily available to him when he needed me. Now, he's just attached to my bed. It's a bit more comfy than his he says, plus I think there is a comfort factor for him, sleeping next to Mommy makes him feel safe. Mommy thinks it sucks having her full grown kid taking up all of her bed leaving her one fucking corner or the very fucking edge.

So, we're up and down all night because he can't sleep. YIPPEE! I have to get up for work and he starts school again the next day. High school here in my county starts at 7:13 AM. Frickin' early...too early if you ask me. He still isn't used to getting up at 6AM to get to school on time. He had 27 tardy's last semester if that tells you anything. My kid just isn't easily motivated and he hates school. What a great combination for what I had hoped would be a Rhoades scholar, wouldn't you say?

So that's my Tuesday in a nutshell. Wednesday didn't turn out to be much better. Phoebe had diahrea in my home office and in her favorite spot to shit by my back patio door on the carpet. YES, more shit to clean up and this is the really gooey kind that I loathe so much! In fact, I have just run out of carpet stain remover. Looks like Wednesday wasn't any better than Tuesday. Still no cock either. Life is so much fucking fun.