RSS Feed
Mar 31

Back, and stronger than ever.

Posted on Saturday, March 31, 2012 in That's the spot.


We're moving cross country like these guys (with bigger cars and less turbans), but with the help from Earl.

We’re moving across country in 7 weeks, and I the hubs and I can’t wait! I have enjoyed living close to some of my family and my husband’s family, but it’s time to just go do what’s right for us regardless of the opinions our moms, dads, sisters, brothers and friends might have about it. Hasta la vista dry desert wind and dust. We’re going to the ocean to dip our feet in the saltwater and sand. To read books in the sun and listen to seagulls. To meet like-minded people who shower and take care of themselves (and aren’t judgmental!). To listen to rain and thunderstorms and enjoy all of the benefits of living seaside for a while. I believe it will suit us better than living in the West ever did. We are both ready to leave behind a lot of memories that just weigh us down–whether it be personal, family-related drama, lost loved ones….. Neither of us is perfect and we’ve both made mistakes that have set our relationship back in a lot of ways, but we’re making huge progress towards becoming the people we each want to be individually and as a united couple.

Making bad decisions is easy. Not just easy, but almost preferable. Being a good person, and a good husband or wife, is a lot of work. When my husband and I said “I Do” we had no idea what that meant and even if we really “did”. But, taking all romance and attraction out of it, we are a good team. We’re friends. We are learning each other and letting each other be who we are. It feels good to know that even though we are human and will make mistakes and there will be stumbles and hard times, we’ll deal with these problems as a team. It took one ugly ex-girlfriend, a whole lotta of lies, tears, fights and counseling to get on the path we’re on, but now that we’re on it there’s no stopping this train.

I know that I am a strong individual, and whatever happens, I’ll come out on top–in whatever way that was intended for me. Don’t misunderstand me–I love the life I’m living now. But if tomorrow it all falls apart, I know that I can take my dog, get in my car, and start new and there’s a whole world of adventure out there. I’m a bright, capable young lady who doesn’t need to worry about making it because it will just happen.

Dec 19

Since when do I have nothing in common with a 21 year old?

Posted on Sunday, December 19, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

Crikey. On Thanksgiving, my brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his girlfriend pregnant. Shocking, no? Ok, let me phrase it this way: On Thanksgiving, my 33 year-old brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his 21 year-old girlfriend that none of us have ever met in the whole 3 months they’ve been together pregnant. And that they were going to get married. To quote my brother, “She’s the one” (To quote my mother, “Look at a 21 year-old for too long, and she’ll end up pregnant”). Naturally, I’m excited and jealous, both, simultaneously. Excited because I never thought the day would come when my brother would have to grow up and be a man. Having a wife and kids was only mentioned in the same sentence as my brother’s name when jokes were being made. This was exciting. I was going to be an auntie! Nice. Jealous because I want to have a baby. My husband and I have been trying for awhile now, with no success. The jealousy quickly passed, and gave way to only extreme elated-ness, just as it should be. I started thinking of my brother being a daddy. How very wonderful.

Fast forward to now, present day. It’s a week before Christmas. My brother and his fiance have been married since Thursday (as in a few days ago Thursday). His now wife, lost the baby two days before that. It’s been a hell of a lot of ups and downs in this past week and I’ll admit there have been quite a few tears (for losing the baby, and not being able to attend my big brother’s wedding). But that’s behind us now, everyone seems settled, happy, and ready to celebrate Christmas. I’m now faced with the challenge of purchasing a Christmas gift for my sister-in-law, whom I’ve never laid eyes on or even spoken to. In fact, only yesterday did I see a photo of her for the first time (the wedding portraits, of course). Not only am I purchasing a gift for someone I’ve never met, but I’m attempting to buy a present for someone who was not that long ago a teenager. Again, I exclaim “Crikey!”. Thinking smart, I ask my brother what his wife might like. He says she needs a sweater. Something to keep her warm. And she likes pink. Ok, this I can do–no problem. Yesterday, while shopping, I have the foresight to snap a picture of the sweater I had planned on purchasing and sending it to my brother, asking for his approval. That was a big fat negative, I believe his words were “She would never wear that.” I had picked out a pretty reddish/pink long sweater with big buttons and a belt. I imagined it would look great on her, knowing what I knew of her physical appearance. Strike 1. I pick out a heather gray cowl-neck sweater, snap another shot, and send it off. Strike 2. Ok, a pinker-than-pink ribbed sweater, plain, but pretty. Stttteeeeerriiiike 3, you’re outta here. At this point, I make the call. “Brother, where does she shop?”, I ask. His reply was shocking and inconceivable to me: “Um, she really likes Pac Sun and some store with the number 21 in the name….I mean….she’s a kid…..well, not a kid…but you know what I mean….”. Yeah. I knew what he meant. Screw it, I had my husband pick up a $50.00 gift certificate to Pac Sun while I waited in the car and drove around until he came out because we couldn’t find a parking spot. I have to laugh, because upon his return to the car, he says “Those aren’t our people, honey”. No shit. I felt kind of bad that I was now so old that I couldn’t relate to a 21 year-old well enough to know that “duh, Pac Sun is THE place to get clothes”. So old that I had written Pac Sun off as a silly store for teenagers, filled to the brim with sunglasses and ugly shirts. I’m 30. That’s not really that old. And I guess I have to honest that never in my life would I have ever considered buying any of my daily attire at a store like Pac Sun or Rue 21. The problem I have with my sister-in-law shopping at these stores is not that they are her preference and she likes them, that’s her style–that’s fine. It’s that her shopping at these stores mean that not only do we currently not have anything in common–we NEVER would have, not even when I was 21, because when I was 21, I still was never THAT young. I’ll hold off on assuming too much before I ever even meet her in the flesh, but this situation does make me a little nervous.

I am happy, though. For the both of them. I hope they have a nice long life together, I hope they have lots of babies, and laughter and happiness.  And I can’t wait to meet her!

Feb 11

A realization

Posted on Thursday, February 11, 2010 in That's the spot.

heartToday, it’s finally starting to become clear to me just how smart my husband is. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve know of his brilliance for quite some time, but, today I’ve done a lot of thinking on how much business sense he has, and how professionally he handles his clients. We’ve lived about 7 months as technically unemployed people, subsisting only on what he makes from the business he is building. That’s pretty amazing. Seeing how his clients react to him and value his opinions is damn sexy if  you ask me.

Pretty much, on the day that we were married, our lives changed drastically. I went from working full time as a manager in a crappy position that I was efficient in, but wasn’t right for me, into a full-time non-worker. Which is huge for me on several levels. First, I’ve worked since the age of 14. I’ve always been independent and fully able to take care of myself, and I know that I still could. Secondly, I never thought I would ever trust someone to take care of me. My parental units basically bowed out of taking care of me physically when I was about 16, emotionally when I was about 9, so I’ve always been a pretty tough cookie. And I’ll admit it’s been an adjustment going from fully independent to fully-in-your-face-can-I-buy-this-so-and-so dependent. But I know that I also contribute to our business, and I take care of our home and lifestyle. It may not always be this great and so I’m going to enjoy it while I can, while we can. We do have it pretty good, considering that the economy has taken a huge dump on everyone, we are very fortunate to be as busy as we are, and the going to the gym in the middle of the day when it’s not busy part is certainly a huge perk. I can shop when it’s not busy, sleep until noon if need be, and stay up late if we want to. That’s pretty damn nice.

Now, you know that I’m knocking as fast and as furiously as I possibly can on the biggest piece of wood I can find because I know that none of it is promised to us. It will be what we make of it. And today, the magnitude of my husband’s drive & commitment to succeed, and his curiosity to learn, and how well he’s been doing has just overwhelmed me, and I’m damn proud of him, and even more proud to be his partner in this. And lucky, too. I sincerely appreciate all of his hard work and dedication to make our lives wonderful, and I hope someday he sees what a great job he’s doing.

We will be headed to Boston early this Summer for a conference, for a project that my husband came up with, pitched to an investor and will soon be a product to sell. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.

Anyways, I guess I’m just trying to say that I love my husband, but I already knew that, but that just didn’t seem to cover it.

Happy Hallmark Holiday to all of you!

Apr 21

Sometimes I want to kick my own ass.

Posted on Tuesday, April 21, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

Do you ever find yourself doing things that you know you shouldn’t do, that could cause some serious long-term damage, hurt people and yourself, yet you can’t stop doing it? I’m not talking about drug addiction or alcohol abuse because well, lets face it, those people are just lazy assholes who don’t like themselves and think that any sort of substance they put in their body to alter their personality will make other people like them and in turn, trick themselves into believing that they are actually pretty cool and not annoying as hell to deal with for everyone else riding on the sobriety bus.

No, alcohol is not my problem (but sometimes I wish it was!). I’m actually afflicted with self-sabotage and hurting-the-ones-I-love syndrome. I have mentioned before that I am a slightly (read: totally) insecure person and I can’t for the life of me figure out why my fiance not only loves me, but says I’m sexy, he thinks I’m gorgeous, wants to marry me and have babies with me. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not trying to insult his taste or his opinion in any way, but I grew up with a brother who felt like shit and wasn’t happy until everyone around him, which was only me at the time, felt like shit too. I quickly learned that not only was I fat, I was stupid, fat & ugly! Yes, I’m the complete package here folks! Well, when you’re 10, and you’ve always idolized your big brother, you tend to believe pretty much everything he says (I mean, he was able to convince me to eat a worm….you get the idea) regardless of its validity. Accompany that with the occasional (frequent) ass beatings he gave me, the public humiliations he put me through and the number of friends he chased off for me, by the time I was 15, I’m scum.

Fast forward to today, I’m 28 years old. I have a career, a home, two dogs, I’ve finally got long hair again, and maybe my face isn’t so disappointing, and well, not to boast, but men and women alike have told me I have a great rear end. My fiance tells me everyday, sometimes (usually) more than once, that he thinks I’m beautiful, that I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, but none of this stops me from thinking that if he were to run across someone (anyone else anatomically correct, to be perfectly truthful) else, he would drop me in a half of a heartbeat. And thinking this is one thing, but actually accusing him of it is another thing entirely and it is known to happen around our house just about everyday. An85-heartbreakkid1d I know I’m doing it, and I can hear the words, but I can’t stop my mouth from saying them, and they spill out like poison. And while I know he loves me, and (for now) he’s entirely patient with me, he is only human and can withstand only so much irrational thinking followed by completely irrational behaviour. I can see how much it confuses and hurts him, but that doesn’t stop me. He has said that he wishes I could see myself the way he sees me for just a second so that then I would know how he feels, and yet I still can’t believe that he will be faithful and loyal to me for our entire life spans. Part of this comes courtesy of my brother and the other part is compliments of good ol’ mom and dad. Their marriage was full of neglect, lies, cheating and last but not least, a nasty divorce to wash it all down. High school sweet hearts, actually, middle school sweethearts, together since the age of 13. And to this day, I’m still convinced they love each other, but once all of that nastiness (him: neglect, her: cheating & lies) has passed through a marriage, it’s past the point of no return. I don’t want that to happen to us, so much so that it seems I’m going to wreck it before it ever gets the opportunity to pass down that road.

I’m such a piece of shit, and I hate it. I need a reality check, and fast, because I don’t want to hurt my best friend, my partner, my everything. He deserves better, and that’s the truth if I don’t shape up and realize that he chose me for a reason, he loves me, and I have to trust that. I need an electrode to be placed in my head, set to shock the bazooty out of my brains anytime an insecure or jealous thought dares cross the ocean of my mind. I feel like I have an alternate personality who always prevails in every battle. I need a handler, I need to be trained. Maybe I need to be hypnotized into having some self confidence.

If you need to find me,  check in the self-help section of the public library where I will be planted until I find the solution to this problem.

Apr 9

Make-up trials

Posted on Thursday, April 9, 2009 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

I’m getting married, and apparently, as part of the “ritual” of getting married, you go to the salon and have people do a trial run of your hair-do and make up. I had the hair trial last week and I was honestly quite pleased. I went back yesterday for the make up trial, this was a different story altogether. I walked into the salon and was greeted by a frazzled, silly-looking girl with bad hair and even worse make-up.  She introduced herself and sat my down on the ridiculously uncomfortable but obviously stylish loveseat in the waiting area. She started to ask me if I had any style in mind when the phone rang–she jumped up while huffing and puffing and rolling her eyes and stomped to the phone, stating “I have to answer the phones because WE don’t have a receptionist!!!” She returned 5 minutes later to inform me that she was going to “make your face look like my face!!!” yay? This was my first cause for concern. If my face ever looked like her face (and I know how this is going to sound but) I would jump in a time machine and be born to someone else. In other words, this is not a good introduction for a make up trial for the one day that it really matters what your make up looks like!

Then she took me in, sat me in a chair and said “I have to run out to my car and get my personal make up bag, because I think our faces are so similar, my make up would work great on you. A) this is NOT hygenic, whatsoever because she looked like regularly experienced massive landmine explosions across a majority of her face and B) I am a brown haired, fair-skinned brown-eyed girl, she was a blue-eyed, fraggle-haired oompa loompa from wonkaland via the tanning salon, I am still having a hard time finding the similarities ANYWHERE. But, if you may recall (reference back to my first blog I think it was, where I explained my amazing shit-eating capabilities…), I am not the type to protest, so I grasped the arms of the chair and took it like a wimp. My mom was with me, laughing the whole time. At one point, she swiped some white goop across the lower inner eyelid (and informed me that she would NOT be doing that on my upper inner eyelid—well DUH, even I know that). I began to feel like I was looking like some sort of Amsterdam working lady. When she whipped out her mascara and started swiping it on my lower lashes, I started to get nervous. I think she actually asked me if she was hurting me, this should give you an idea of the look on my face.

All in all, she did an ok job, mom and fiance approved so I guess I’ll go with it, although it felt like much more make up than I usually wear and the process to get there was more than a little painful. My only concern is having to see this whackjob on my wedding day. lol. But I guess that’s the price of beauty?

As long as I don’t look like this lady on my wedding day:scared_face(yeah, I said lady)

Apr 6

There’s a dually and a dick in my driveway.

Posted on Monday, April 6, 2009 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

WARNING: Explicit thoughts and words will follow.

My mom recently left her husband (hoorah, do a cart-wheel if you can) because he’s the king of Douchbag Island. And regardless of the fact that I know, and she knows, and everyone knows, that she will go back to him, I’m proud of her for standing up for herself for a minute. Here is how I feel about her husband: He is a tall, 61-year old baby with a smuggness I just want to rip off of his face with my fingernails (true, I keep them short–an old piano player habit – but they could still do some damage). I cannot remember a day of my 28-year old life that his ugly face hasn’t made an appearance. (Yes, he wrecked my parent’s marriage–not single handedly, I’ll admit, but he sure didn’t help keep our family together at all) He treats my mom like a slave, and doesn’t appreciate any of the things she does to take care of him. He invested all of their retirement money in a sour real estate deal (despite the fact that I shared my gut feelings about it long ago…), has known for a year that there is no money coming in, yet still sits on his flat ass playing a scintillating computer card game, Solitaire (anyone heard of it? It received the UGY award – Underacheiver’s Game of the Year). All the while, my mom, who has a reasonable head on her shoulders, decides to get a job so they can have some money and he can have his damn health insurance. This makes her day as such: 5:30 wake up, make Dink breakfast, take a bath, walk 1 mile through deep snow to highway where vehicle is parked (upon arriving she will discover that her work slacks are wet to her knees and she might as well have skipped deodorant and the curling iron), drive 25 minutes to town, work from 8:30 until 4:30 at a depressing place that smells, quite literally, like death, at 4:30, she will then drive to the grocery store to buy food for dinner, drive 25 more minutes home, walk through the snow, up the porch stairs with said groceries, only to walk in to fnd Dink at computer, with only his balding donut-head greeting her, breakfast dishes? still dirty. Dinner? Won’t be ready until she cooks it. Not only does she have to cook it, then she has to do the dishes to clean up afterward. (Go ahead mother, chime in: *But sometimes he does help me dry!!!!) I find this situation to be unacceptable. Mainly because I know that it’s not how she wants to live her life. If she could paint a picture of her ideal life, it would not resemble this situation one bit. And that makes me sad, because I know that while she taught me growing up that I should always be independant and rely on myself to get by, she can’t practice what she preaches and only stays with him because she is scared.

So, as I mentioned, she’s living with me and my fiance now (who, by the way, has been really wonderful about it all) but Dink is not out of the picture, oh no. She is dating him now–meets him for dinner here and there, goes up to take care of him, I’m surprised he doesn’t call her to wipe his ass every time he craps, honestly. This weekend, he had the nerve to pull his big dumpy truck into MY driveway and stand in MY front yard and act like a cocky fuck while my mom handed him the section of the newspaper where one might look to find a job – good luck you talantless shitstain. I want to tell her, so badly, that he’s not welcome within 1 mile of my home thanks much, but I know that it would hurt her, so I don’t. I guess I can’t be her backbone. But one thing I did learn from this: Blissfully, I can set boundaries in my OWN life that will not permit assholes like that to be in it, period. And that is sure a relief. I think I’ll start my list of people who won’t be invited for Christmas with:


Coincidentally, the list ends there. (for now)

For more information on how to get on this list, checkout:, if you like what you see, you’re well on your way to a spot on my list. Congrats.

Apr 3


Posted on Friday, April 3, 2009 in That's the spot.

It was brought to my attention this morning that I am one of the lucky people who find themselves in love and loved by someone in return. This is huge, and while I know, have always known (on some deep deep level), that my fiance and I are a good solid match, we love each other, we make each other laugh, we can work through the hard shit (and we’ve had our share of stuff that would definitely qualify as difficult), it’s always comforting to know that someone else, outside of our “us” bubble, recognizes the love we have for one another.

This makes me feel really happy inside. I’ve been going through a tough time lately, family matters, an upcoming marriage, a crappy thankless job, health problems – both female and then your regular run of the mill crapfest, but through it all, my wonderfully tall better half has been optimistic, supportive and generally (almost annoyingly!!!) pleasant. I only say annoyingly because sometimes I just want someone else to see things how I see them, which we’ll just say, lacks the “bright side” of most things. I don’t think I’m as bad as some, but I think I tend to let one thing pile on the other and then everything is just “that much worse!”.

To get back to the point here, I don’t know what I did to deserve to have such a patient, gentle, caring person in my life (for forever, like, until the end of time and shit) and sometimes I feel like because I trend towards “Everything is a tragedy” mode, I am not good enough for him. But we’re different, see? I can teach him to be wary of people you can’t trust.  I can help him see the “problem” with this or that. He can help me give people a chance,  remind me of the brigher side no matter how much I want to ignore that it exists(!), be patient, to relax,  and to love the dewdrops on the leaves with the puppies and the fluffy kitties…etc, etc. Lol. Ok, so I don’t love those things, at least not in the form of annoying calendars, screensavers or framed photos in greasy spoon restaurants….maybe if it were our puppy…. But, more importantly, we have what each other lacks, and that’s why we are a good fit. I am slowly coming to realize that marriage is not the enemy, the ultimate love killer, and I can honestly say that I am looking forward to marriage and the whole bunch o’bananas that will come with it.

To you, I guess I can no longer say that we’re not a good match because I don’t blog. ;)