Adulthood

I'm 42, soon to be 43 and I still get acne. Only this isn't the adolescent acne, that you can get the satisfaction of popping. This acne hurts like a mo-fo and when you squeeze the shit out of it, it just removes the top layer of skin, and becomes a big purple-red bruise. If left alone, the damn thing would have been virtually unnoticeable but NOOOOO, I have to squeeze hard enough that I leave impressions with my fake nails in my skin...and to no avail, I get nothing out of it besides lymph and blood... Does this fall under TMI??

Haunted Past

So, I'm still haunted by the time in which I talked my husband into having an "open" marriage so that I could hook up with someone I met on the net without guilt.

I was starved for attention. My husband, a practicing alcoholic at the time, couldn't give a rat's as about me. We drifted along in ignorant bliss, acknowledging each other presence but not being a part of each other's lives. I wanted someone that could remember my co-workers names and he wanted to drink with his co-workers after work. We still loved each other tremendously believe it or not. But he was not fulfilling my every desire and emotional need. I still feel that it's got to be nearly impossible to expect one person to fulfill all needs and desires and wonder how the whole one man, one woman thing even got started. I believe with all my heart that this is why people cheat. And cheat they do. I was shocked once I put myself out there, how many men were looking for some strange, yet loved their wives enough to never want a divorce.

ANYWHOOO...I was doing some bogus make money online deal. This guy that signed up under me (and just happened to live near me...seriously) and I chatted quite often. I fell in love with him. He was funny, intelligent, tattooed, pierced, had blue hair and generally kicked ass. He wanted to meet me and I refused because their was no way I was going to fool around on my husband. I loved him too much to deceive him in this way. Hubby knew of this guy, I spoke of him often, and he listened as I laughed my ass off while chatting. We continued to talk, laugh, have deep meaningful conversations and I continued to fall deeper. I know some people consider this a form of adultry and the jury is still out of that one...which I'm sure is because I commited it, how can it be wrong.

Another one of my online business associates suggested that I talk hubby into an open marriage. That way, I could have extramarital sex without the guilt. The catch...hubby could do the same thing.

I did lots of research. I looked in to polyamory, open marriage and learned the meaning of compersion (the feeling of happiness when someone else is happy). I read about how self esteem and confidence are the causes of jealousy. I read and I read. When I finally felt comfortable enough, I took hubby out for dinner, plied him with alcohol, and made the suggestion. He was a little taken aback, naturally. I told him to mull it over and we would talk about it later.

He happened to have lived in CA for a while. He knew a couple there that had an open marriage and it really worked for them. He...said ok.

to be continued...

Music snobs can kiss my royal american ass

I can't stand music snobs. They fucking make my blood boil and make me spit when talk! Music is music!!! It doesn't have to be profound, full of musical nuances, political or have a 10 minute guitar solo (regardless of what my husband says). I had a knock-down drag-out with a wanna be on the Internet about what was good music and what wasn't. Who died and made him fucking Queen Of All Things Worth a Shit!?? Where in the hell do these people get off!! I actually felt a little embarrassed at one time as one of these assholes declared I listened to worthless shit. Now, I'm pissed off that I was embarrassed!!

I love such a variety of music, I could never pick just one genre. I love hard rock, pop, punk, alternative, big band, and...other stuff that I can't think of right now. I love me some Godsmack as well as Maroon 5. I could listen to old Jackson 5 stuff, or kick ass "My Evil Genius" by the Exies (one of my fav bands btw).

Music is a huge part of my life, I have the radio on all day at work, I have tons of cds in my car and I push every button on my radio on the way home from work trying to find something that strikes my fancy. My husband and I have attended many concerts (since I saw Disturbed, I have pretty much satisfied my need to see anyone live though).

I love Disturbed so much, I rock OUT when I'm in my car, banging on the steering wheel and singing at the top of my lungs. I don't care who's watching. OMG, dontcha' just love the song "The Game"!!! I would rather hear walruses having sex that my own voice sometimes, but then other times, I don't sound half bad. I don't sing at the top of my lungs if anyone else is in the car, lest their ears bleed on my leather upholstery. But man, there just isn't anything like cruzin', the radio blaring your favorite song, and the speed limit at 70.

Writing my memoirs

Goddess help me, I want to write a book. I have thought about writing a book about my life for years but I just have tons of excuses why I haven't. When I write it in my head I realize that there are many MANY things in my life that I would die of embarrassement if any of my family read it. I mean really bad shit. There's also the fact that my grammer is atrocious, I specialize in run-on sentences and most of my life would bore the fuck out of most people.

So why do I want to write a book? I do a lot of reading. On occasion, I'm reading along and I think "I would write something better than this crap!" I would be incredibly witty, (you would laugh out loud) and have multiple deep thoughts that you would want to pass along to your daughters. Oh, who am I kidding, I fantasize about writing a book that becomes hugely popular and I make so much money, I can hire people to clean my toilets and I have shoes that cost more than my washer and dryer! I've been a millionare wanna be forever. Seriously, you wouldn't believe some of the shit I have done to try and make money, short of selling my body. And I probably would have done that if I'd have a body worth selling. Nobody wants a piece of this cottage cheese.


For a while, the book was going to be about my first marriage which was blindingly awful. My first husband mentally abused me which I didn't discover until I was out of the marriage. He left me for my best friend (yeah, no shit..best friend), otherwise, it would have dragged on for a few more years, I have no doubt. Serious Sally Jesse Raphael shit. I decided that I would write a book so that other women in hopeless marriages would have the courage to move on. I would let women know that divorce is not the life ending choice everyone makes it out to be. That life is too short to be miserable and stuck with some you hate. I went so far as to make an outline, and take some notes on some really terrible memories. Like the time he locked me out of the house when I was 9 months pregnant just because he was pissed that I was gone when he woke from his nap. Or the time he berated me to the point of tears because I took a different route home from work and had a car accident. How about when we bought a new car for me to drive, he ended up wanting it all to himself, so he removed the spark plug wires or something so I couldn't drive it when he wasn't home (that was before he took the keys from me).

For now, I'm thinking maybe a book loosely based on my past experiences but...enhanced.

Joining the ranks

Well, I finally did it, started my own blog. I hope I can post often, stay witty and be entertaining enough to have regular visitors.