Excuse me Ma'am where is the GYM?

I’ve been in the contemplative stage for I don’t know, years about exercise. Honestly the only time that I exercise is when I am naked. And if that activity is … well inactivity … I naturally start to get fat. Not only fat, but fat and unhappy. So with that being said I’ve been in the contemplative stage for, well most of my adult life.

This is my life. I wake up, look in the mirror, well I try to only look in mirrors that are like … medicine cabinet mirrors … when I’m naked. That way I can’t see the damage I’ve done below the breast area. Or should I say the damage children, inactivity, and Indian food have done to my lower body. Here’s a thought. Went to the Indian place the other day and we were joking with the owner that we’ve gained weight because we go to her ‘buffet’ like 3x a week. She vehemently denied her food would make us fat. This is the food. Creamy sauces, cheese, and fried food. Ok. I don’t understand the logic there. She said, but seriously ladies do you ever see Indian people who are overweight? They are fit and healthy. We nodded in agreement, in my mind I was thinking the following. First of all, yes I’ve seen plenty of fat Indian women. They wear Sari’s with their back fat hanging out (sometimes) and they have men with big fat bellies. Incidentally they are usually smaller in stature, but still can pack on the lard. Conversely NO I haven’t seen Indian people, say on the internet or TV that depict the desperately poor people that live in India. Of course starvation makes you skinny, but if you eat cheese, fried food, and cream sauce you are going to get fat. After her dumb logic in that area I decided never to go back, until the next day when I was really starving for some saag paneer. Ha.

Ok back on the subject. So what has my contemplative stage looked like. I avoid mirrors, especially at night when gravity has done even more damage on my body. It pulls everything downward. The best time for anyone to see you naked is clearly in the morning. That is why I firmly believe that men enjoy morning sex so much, aside from that they are usually unconsciously ready for it without even trying. If you know what I’m saying. (I’m getting a visual here. It’s daytime and I’m inactive – this is not a good thing)

When I do look in the mirror there is internal dialog. From the shoulders up my brain says … Wow (insert my name here), you have an afro, you are ugly, you are getting wrinkles, look at your chin. Age, Alcohol and smoking are taking its toll. You have to stop. Then I accidentally walk by the full view mirror, the only thing I don’t like about my new condo. Full length mirrors in every bathroom and bedroom. Clearly the college aged women who rented before me were conceited bitches. Moving on … I glance and stop and say to myself … holy shit you are a hideous fat ugly monster. (no lie) and then as I go about my day I compare myself to every morbidly obese woman, and those in between, and say to myself … Angela surely you look exactly like that. You’ve got to do something about your big fat butt. You have to exercise. How can you accomplish that? Yes you will start exercising … someday. This is literally an every single day dialog that I have with myself.

When I do bite the bullet and exercise it lasts MAYBE a week or so. This is why … I head out usually running, and being the perfectionist that I am I do it full force, render myself disabled for the next 3 days, go about my day looking like I’m a pathetic senior citizen, and promise myself next time I’ll start slow. There never is a next time.

I’m in a stage in my life where I have to make a decision. Either I’m going to age gracefully – make sure my body is as HAWT as possible, and if my face is ugly it won’t be that large a blow because I can just stare at my awesome a** and make sure other people do as well, or let myself continue on this road of laziness and gluttony and get a facelift when I start to turn heads --- away from me. OR … find a preferably younger man who will have sex with me 3x a day, inspire me to participate in a very cardio –exercise way, AND get a facelift. That’s the plan that I’m shooting for. I’ve posted a job ad on CareerBuilder. The job doesn’t pay, because if I did then I’d end up on the news, and /or in jail. But it would be a fun ride, literally.

Diarrhea Mouth

So. Thursday night there was nearly an incident on the flight coming from O'Hare flying to Omaha. Why? I was on it. Here's how it went 

Ever been on a flight when someone,, in my life usually next to or within a few rows of me, thinks the world is a stage. Yes and not for entertainment but rather to use the passengers that are sequestered on the plane as an unsuspecting victims to spew diarrhea on them from their mouths. Disgusting huh. Do you know what I'm talking about ? Verbal diarrhea. This is how it goes ...

They sit down to some poor a hole, who is also party to this atrocity, and start with the sweet politeness. "hi how are you? My name is Sheila Blowhard ( or suckhard whatever you like better

) how are you ? So what do you do for a living (yes this is how you know that you're gonna wish you brought something sharp on the plane to kill yourself or the other person with) and en its the banter back and for. At first it's like .... I, listening, this could be interesting, oh I bet we know some of the same people, then it's obvious she wants the person and all those within earshot, to know how wonderful beautiful smart and accomplished she is. Only thing is, the ones with diarrhea mouth just think they are. Oh Mr A Hole who keeps engaging me, I am a big wig at FNB and oh you are an astronaut? Wow we are hiring astronauts. Since I've been chatting with you all of ten minutes I'd like to give you my card, you should call me because I'd like to hire you. Then sadly, that's not the end of the convo. Mr A Hole thinking this stupid dumb biotch is really looking for an astronaut, says minor things to keep her fueled for conversation. Its been about 15 minutes the convo is fucking boring and it's about time they would stop talking. NOPE now the convo turns personal. 

Oh where did you go on your trip 

Where do you live

Do you have kids 

Where did you grow up 

Are you married 

This looks like Mrs blow hard and suck hard is genuinely interested in his answers. She's not. She uses each as a platform to talk about that particular question and how it relates to HER. And it's not interesting. She is a mom. She works at fnb she grew up in Ponca and went to Omaha north. She is married and she knows about computers at least she knows that databases are sequel. Pooh ahhhh the guy is attractive and unmarried. She makes a point of telling him she's married, what part of town she lives in, HOW HARD IT IS TO BE MARRIED and incidentally soon after, how her husband is out of town. Literally an hour of non stop bullshit coming out of her mouth. 

I put my headphones on and turned the music up as loud as possible until blood dripped out of my ears. I could still hear her. I wanted to absolutely hurt her. I wanted to reach over and slap her so hard her mother could feel it. I wanted to say lady you are such a dog you aren't getting any tonight and you'd look better if shit really were coming out of your GD pie hole. I was that angry. 

Why so angry? Because the guy was hot and I wanted to talk to him and she stole my thunder. Ha. Just Jk. Because she was stupid and uninteresting and she was invading my brain and spewing her diarrhea mouth all over me. And I still have her horrible voice ringing in my ears. Why people. Don't do it and the flight attendants should have bats that they are allowed to use on these people ...just whack em on the head and knock them out for the duration. I fly. 2x a month. On 99percent of the flights someone is afflicted with diarrhea mouth for which only bodily harm is the cure. 

Crazy Town

So. I was in Chicago and after a full days work, I was ready to drive to my next destination. Unfortunately I would never make it because, although I'm an exceptional genius when it comes to travel and logistics, somehow I justified going to Chicago in January and a blizzard was grounding me at the airport Hilton.  Good news is I did learn from my experience. I made the same travel schedule for next year.

So. I'm at the hotel and realize that I'm stuck. There will be no white castle, no portillos, no Chicago hot dogs. I'd have to put my mission to develop the baddest badonkadonk on hold. I'll have to eat in the hotel. I look at the room service menu and it sucks so I walk down to the restaurant and wait at the hostess station to be seated. The restaurant seating is vacant and there is no hostess to be found. Could it get even worse ?! I look around the corner to the hotel bar, where they also serve food. It's packed, with men.

Normally this would not be a problem, but rather a delight. But I have a staunch rule. I do not ever ever ever drink or go to  bars while traveling. Alcohol, and unfamiliar people and places are dangerous to a vulnerable woman. Anyway, so look at that. You really can have two personalities. Work me, and play me. Not literally PLAY ME  though I do feel like its written on my forehead sometimes.

So. I nervously choose the safest place to sit. One stool between a guy with his head in his iPad, and the other who was extremely fat and loud mouthed. As soon as I sat down the fat dude steered his conversation to me. First asking me questions to feign interest, then revealing he was a TEAMSTER and so what else could I do but swap BROWN stories with him. It actually was a very entertaining convo even after he gave me his card, told me to "look up the lies they tell about him" on google, and invited me to call him saying "it never hurts to know a TEAMSTER" in case you have to dispose of a dead body. I giggled, haha what a bullshitter. The fat TEAMSTER leaves, my food and 3 rd drink arrive, and I turn towards my plate. I realize at that point iPad guy is looking at me. I look back and smile, and he says in a perfect English accent, Babs why were you talking to that guy, he was such a freak?! I laughed and said ... Because he was entertaining. He asked me if he gave me his number and I said yes. We both laughed, a lot, and I said lets look him up on your iPad and see if he was lying. Mr Accent looks it up and BAM the guy is on Internet with all sorts of indictments and accusations against him. This guy was the real deal. This would only happen to me. I texted my friend and told her about the teamster. She got all excited, and asked if I got his phone number. Can you imagine what a perfect boyfriend he would be? He was rich, he was a criminal, and he was willing to hide bodies for me. She said it not me. At that point I was able to confirm that my friend really was twisted and deranged. Those are the makings of a perfect friend. :) 

Honestly i did think of the benefits of such a boyfriend, but frankly I would rather not rot in jail, or HELL  for that matter, before I'd accept a big fat guy for a love interest, never mind the fact that someday he could decide to hide MY DEAD BODY !

COMING SOON  an even better part two to this story. Same night, more insanity story. 

Remember these blogs are TRUE 

Get Busy

So. I'm sitting in the airport by the gate and some old lady just farted. GREAT.

They say in writing you should write to please one person, aside from yourself. If you try to appeal to mass audiences you will achieve nothing.

I am going on a journey starting Monday. For years I haven't owned a TV and now Im going to commit to no vehicle usage during daylight hours. Yes daylight hours only.   1. Because I live in the hood and someone will hit me over the head with a pipe.   2.The Leavenworth rapist is on the loose. I wonder if he's hot.   3. Because I don't want to take a bus or cab to the bar, round trip. Lol. I'm going to write about those experiences on public transportation, a cab, or walking. Seeing that every time I've walked anywhere I ran into some crazy random person it should make for some interesting commentary.

Got to go now. Plane boarding. White castle here I come

Permission to Act Stupid

For a short period in my life, albeit a very drunken period .... I was clumsy. Clumsy in the way I describe in my entry "a crack to the head" but also many other ways. Admittedly drinking correlated with the mishaps. Here is one of them. 

Beloved Cupcake

I was at a bar, imagine that, at a table with a bunch of my "girls" one of my BFF's had a stalker of sorts. A really old guy who wanted to have sex with her. That wasn't happening because she already had a stud on retainer who ascribed to her very unusual tastes. You know how terrified you were when your child or a child you knew was bitten in daycare? Well she likes bite marks, on herself. Enough said. 

So ... BFF gets a lovely gift from old man perv. It's a specially wrapped cupcake. She is touched and thanks him profusely. I laugh and say OHH how sweet. She says I'm going to save it for my grandma who's on hospice and won't eat. Maybe she will eat this. Then she exits to the toilet. The beer has made her incontinent like grandma.* While gone, and with an audience to entertain, I take the box, open it, and take a gander at the treat. It's beautiful and I must have him, I mean it. I take it out and while laughing hysterically, eat it with wreck less abandon while they look on in horror, but gay delight as well. Like watching something really naughty and trying not to enjoy it. I rewrapped the box and place it neatly in its place and put on a straight face while the rest can't stop giggling. BFF came back realized what I had done and I and everyone else started laughing so hard. I had to goto the bathroom. While I was gone, Prince Harry walked in and sat at the table. I came back, still laughing and loaded, and went to sit down, missed the chair and fell on my a**. He smiled, walked over to me, picked me up, and said its time to go.  Later I say omg Harry I'm so embarrassed. He says oh darlin it's ok you fell very gracefully. You were like a little ballerina, you just went POP.  Permission to Act Stupid.

*the part about Grandma was a lie. 

IMARRIEDTHATDOUCHEBAG.COM

So. I’ve been following a Facebook page called IDATEDTHATDOUCHE.COM. At first it was funny, then it was hilarious, then it was discouraging, then it was just down right sad. If you haven’t seen the site it’s essentially meme cards that say mean/funny/rude things on them, and stories submitted by women and douchebags about their horrible dating life. Hey that sounds like my blog but here’s the difference. I mainly make fun of myself and its self-deprecating humor based on my bad decisions. This blog is purely man-hater material. I actually felt myself becoming more and more opposed to the male species the more I read it, then I was ovulating and all men became beautiful again. AH the beauty of hormones.

So. Since we are on the Idatedadouchebag.com subject there should be a site called imarriedadouchebag.com. And with that being said, I’ll share with you a douchebag story about my first husband. God I hope he never reads this because I think he’s still in love with me. After all, who wouldn’t be!

So. In one of my past blogs I talk about how we met, how he was sterile, how we had lots of babies together, etc. That is the once upon a time part. Now comes the first couple of chapters. We met he was tall, dark and handsome and wore z cavarricci’s, plus he was a good kisser. I thought at the time that he was a good lover but I’ve been proven wrong since. VERY VERY wrong. But that is not the most important part of a relationship. At least that is what HE said. Literally.

So. I’m pregnant and my brother and sister-in law are getting married. It’s going to be a great affair at a fancy hotel on New Year’s Eve. By that time I’ll be big as a house because Baby #1 is due mid-January. Super exciting – especially since this is my favorite brother in the world. Albeit my only brother. My sister-in-law asks me to be her maid of honor. I was surprised and happy that she asked me. I tell my douchebag. I mean my husband. We talk about it. Being the cheap selfish bastard that he is, he is first worried about money. Second. He is jealous. Yes he is jealous that some Italian Stallion will come around and sweep his very pregnant wife off of her feet. I wish! So he manipulates me. Oh. You don’t want to do that. It’ll be awful outside, what if you have the baby early; you are going to be huge and uncomfortable. Then of course I buy into the garbage and say yes you are right dear, I will be an embarrassment to my sister-in-law. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to anyone. Incidentally he was very good at making me feel like I was an embarrassment and failure every day of my married life.

So. I call her and tell her and give her all the stupid excuses on why I am thankful she asked me, but it would be a bad decision and rationalize all of it. To this day I still feel like a big pile of poop for doing that – thank you very much. I married that douchebag.

Next chapter.                                                                                                                                                      

So. I go to the wedding, I didn’t look TOO bad, though I was probably 200 lbs. and I live through it. It was a great affair. I guess I thought about this event because I’m going to be staying at the same locale on Wednesday evening in Chicago. So. I have the baby and enjoy my 6 week vacation with him and return to work. I’m excited I love my job and everyone is glad to see me. I look great. Honestly. I’m 22 years old but that’s beside the fact. I am going about my business of catching up and settling down when my boss comes in and tells me there is a phone call for me. No one ever calls me at work. I pick up the phone in my boss’ office and its prince charming on the phone. Hi (Insert my name here) how is your first day back at work? Did you enjoy the roses that I sent you? I checked on our newborn son and his sitter and everything is going great. Would you like me to pickup dinner on the way home from my new job at the car dealership? I was so touched. Wait for it, Wait for it, Wait for it. That was bullshit and this blog is about REAL STORIES. This is how it went.

"Hi (insert my name here) I am the dealership and I need a ride home from work". I say “Why do you need a ride home, I’m working” Prince Charming says … "because I cannot work for these a-holes anymore and I told them to F off and I had to give my demo car back and I need a ride home". This was the introduction to my happily ever after, and after that, and after that, and after that. Same Story, Different Job. Touching isn’t it. If you are a masochist.

Prince Hairy

So. One night, Back in the day, I got home from work. It was gorgeous outside and I didn't know what my plans were, but I knew I should plan nothing because that's when great things happen. Im the phone, coaching someone on how to deal with a psychotic employee. And my phone is beeping there's someone on the other line. I know who it's gonna be ... Because it feels like this friend and I have some kind of weird intuition thing .... I disconnect and see who called. Yay I am the luckiest girl in the world.

So. I know I always say that. If I say it enough it may happen. There's a theory about that. Let's take a little side step. It's my ADD. Intuition, willing things to happen, ESP, life after death, blah blah blah. The most surreal thing that ever happened to me when I was a kid was .... Mom used to call us and say ... girls we want your dad to do XYZ so chant it over and over and we will see if it happens. And it usually worked. We only used our dark magic for really important things ... Like bewitching my Dad into coming home with KFC. Woot woot.

So. Back to the story. This friend, who I feel like I've known forever, is a young buck. Lol. That's what men that I know call him when we are out together. So (insert name here) how's your young 

buck. I say stfu he's not my young buck he's my future husband. No I don't really say that. I might think it. I don't Say it out loud. I have more discretion than that. Ha. 

So.  Where am I going with this. Good question. Let's be honest. All my stories are true. Sad but true. So why stop now. So this young buck, I mean fiancé, ooops I mean stud ...he needs a name. Let's call him Harry. Cause he really is a prince and he's sort of hairy. Did you know, incidentally, that hairy men, back hair included, are very good in bed? Just sayin. 

So.  My God I didn't take my meds this morning. I'm kidding. Or am I ? Who's to say. So Harry calls. Yay luckiest girl in the world. I feel like a princess when I'm around Harry. (had to say it ) he's sweet he's smart he's artistic, he is musical, he's gentlemanly - but only when he should be, he's romantic, he's chivalrous, he's HOT AS F@&$/@&$& Sorry Tourette's. He comes and picks me up. We go to an outdoor seating area and in our usual style we drink and we smoke and we smoke and we drink and we drink and we drink and we drink oh then we smoke. Normally there is dancing intermingled in there but we drank hard core really fast out of the gate so when it came time to dance, well we just were to wasted to bother. Just to be frank. We went bar hopping a little bit, we stopped and I got a piano concert, it was awesome. We had deep discussions as usual. We encourage each other and listen to each other and basically we understand each other. Harry is a friend I love. This is my litmus test. Harry is the only man in the world that I love, and would still love, even if his penis fell off. I mean the romantic love for a man, not a relative you sickos. So again where am I going with this. 

So. The night is ending, Harry is exhausted reasonably so, and abruptly says (insert my name here) I need to go home. He throws a couple smokes on the table, hugs me goodbye and goes home. I say why, why don't you stay, he says nope gotta go. I am drunk. He is drunk. No one acts normal when they are drunk especially me. That's why I drink because drunk makes me more interesting. He leaves and I absolutely have a melt down. Picture a toddler in the toy aisle wailing. Yes literally that is me. It was a tantrum. A temper tantrum. I can say though, that I didn't punch a wall. I am beyond pissed. I call Harry. His phone is dead. I text him, no answer. ( duh drunk girl his phone is dead) and suddenly I realize my phone is going dead and I left my wall charger in his car. How am I supposed to send him messages about how pissed I am if my phones going dead. 

So. I get in my car and race to his house, and ring the bell about 3 times. He doesn't come to the door, I'm getting in my car and he appears at the door. I see him from the driveway and he's gorgeous in his underpants. Shit I'm almost not mad for a second. I simply say Harry unlock your car I need my charger. He does. I take it, I don't say a word, I get in my car and speed away. Yes smart, angry drunk girl driving. Very dumb. He emails. It says ...something like ... You sped away  i lost my phone  youre very angry and i dont want you to be upset ... He didnt know why i was angry. Thats because I'm a crazy bitch ! Idk when I saw it. Since I'm considered brilliant to some I'm sure it was not drunk angry and driving and checking emails all at the same time. No absolutely not. I agree I'm stupid as fuck. I just ate Taco Bell. I'm sure that I'm fine. So now I go back to bar, for what purpose idk. I'm red faced obviously crying drunk girl going to get her drink on. I have two, call the cab, and go home. In the interim sending Harry a rash of mean bitchy texts. 

So. Then it's the morning after. I tell my good friend the story, she puts it in perspective. (my god she always puts it in perspective) I realize why I freaked out, Harry would not bend to my will. You know what else I realized, that's part of the reason I love him. :).