Confessions of a mad woman?

Confession. I'm 42 years old and I still don't know how to date, let alone be in a relationship.  ( ... heavy sigh of relief ...).

Some people make it look so easy, and not just movie couples. I have friends who have great relationships. They laugh together, make decisions together, compromise and continue to love each other even when they really don't like each other.

Theoretically, I think I know how to be in a healthy relationship, I just haven't been able to prove my theories, yet. Basically, I'm a lot like Einstein. Oh, wait ... he proved his theory. OK, I'm a lot like the scientists who came up with the String Theory. I believe, I just can't affirm. The equation just hasn't added up ... yet.

Case in point: the adult in me thinks that if you've been dating for around a month and you aren't interested in dating anyone else, it should naturally mean that you're in a relationship, right? Do I need to ask?  When the officer was handing me the restraining order, he told me that boys don't like to be chased. (I kid. About the restraining order, not about my question.)

Unfortunately, the insecure 14 year-old in me thinks that my best friend needs to send him a note in math class asking if he likes me (check "yes," "no," or "maybe," and it had better not be "no" or "maybe"!). :)

One of my less endearing qualities is my inability to just sit back and let things happen. I've always got to have a plan and a back-up plan. Let's just say that I don't really know how to "roll with the punches." It's gotten me pretty far in life, but I think it's time that I learned how to just accept that life will happen and whatever will be, will be. I talk the talk, I need to learn to walk the walk.

The guy that spurred this discourse seems to be just the opposite of me. He's laid back, cool and patient (OK, I'm cool and can be pretty laid back. Patience ... no.) I fight the urge to flip the bird and walk out on my job on a daily basis. He's been at his job for 13 years. See what I mean?

I appreciate that if we were ever confronted by an aging hippy at a restaurant who feels it's her duty to scold us about how we handle our (currently imaginary) kids, he'd likely take the high road, while I think about ways to berate her about her unruly braid and poor hygiene, follow her to her VW bus and throw my left over crab cake sandwich at her. I would really have to fight the urge, trust me.

So, there it is. I like a boy and it kind of freaks me out. Being in a relationship means being insecure and opening myself up for the possibility of rejection ... again. No one likes to be rejected, but how will I ever be able to prove my theory if I don't keep trying?

Carry on.

Blah, blah, blah ...

Friends, I have good news.  I met a guy who I can stand to be around for more than five minutes!

Those of you who know me know that I'm super picky about who I grace with my presence. Not many possess qualities interesting enough to hold my attention for an extended period of time, but this guy worked his way through the maze I've built and sparked a little flame in my heart ... and pants. :)

I slipped and mentioned my blog the first time we met. Oopsie! He hounded me until I told him more, so I thought what the eff; he should find out now the twisted mess he's getting himself into, so I gave him the deets. He's read through my demented, incredibly un-PC posts and wasn't scared off.  Score one for Spiffy!  Question ... when should I tell him about my Furry fetish?? I kid ...

So, a couple of weeks ago I was out with my girlfriends watching some live music when an I ran into old ex-boyfriend. This guy was an abusive piece of shit who, let's just say, wasn't very nice to me. I've long since forgiven him for the pain he once caused me, but my stomach turns every time I see his smug face.  When he saw me, he came up and shook my hand and introduced his girlfriend. I wanted to warn her to run as fast as she could, but I figured she already knew, so I left it alone.

The next day the idiot had the audacity to friend request me on Facebook. Seriously? I may forgive you and shake your hand, D-bag, but we'll never be friends. Facebook or otherwise.

OK. Ranting finished.  I'm off to get my zombie fix.  I'll work on some better stories, friends.  Peace. Out.

Like a virgin ... HEY!

I haven't felt like a virgin in quite a while, but I had high hopes that I could revisit my fully-hymened youth at the Madonna concert on Tuesday. Unfortunately, I left feeling freshly fucked without so much as a kiss ...

This was Madge's first trip to KC, so decided to drop $60 (cheap seats) and make memories with my gal pals. We had a great time, lots of laughs and lots of gawking and interesting Madonna get-ups, but I left with a feeling of "meh" instead of "FUCK YEAH!"

I was hoping for some stuff from the 80s and 90s and while she sang a couple of "oldies," the majority of her two hour show was on her new stuff, of which I'm not a big fan. That's my only bitch. She looked and sounded FANTASTIC, had a great stage show, and laid down some sick visuals (blood spattered back drop as she "shot her lovers in the head." For a minute I thought she may have extracted the lyrics from my head ... :).

The first half of the show I spent shifting back and forth trying to see the show around a woman I've dubbed "old lady boogie pants." She stood at the oddest times and did what can only be described as a gypsy sway as she shook her scarf around her head.

To top it off, she had big, teased hair and a bedazzled jacket. It took all that I had not to "accidentally" push her to see if the bedazzled jacket was heavy enough to keep her rolling all the way down to section 132. I kid ...



Note: this is not Old Lady Boogie Pants, but this is a reminder to never, ever wear a stupid hat like this.
Or Bedazzle anything.

In the midst of revisiting my youth, I moved to a new apartment. I'm convinced that as soon as movers see that it's just a single girl, they take their sweet ass time and think it's OK to waste time flirting.

If you recall the tale of my move last year with "Black tooth Kenny," I was bound and determined not to be swindled into giving one of the movers my phone number just to shut them up and get them out of my place.

Thankfully, I was not placed in that position this year, but I did have to lay the smack down on "Chatty Manny" who spent more time trying to be witty than moving my shit. I finally told him that I was paying him, he needed to stop talking and work! I'M SPIFFY BITCH!

Four hours and $416 later, they left me to re-build my life in a big, white box with one closet.  If you couldn't tell by the tone, this apartment wasn't one of my best choices, but I'll make it work like I always do.

On an interesting side note, I found out my old friend "Meat" lives in the apartments right behind me.  Who knows, I may end up getting "into the groove" and crossing the "borderline" after all (insert Madonna song references with sexual undertones ... ).

Out.

Rambling thoughts of a mad woman ...

I haven't written in a minute and for that, my fan and a half, I'm sorry. I haven't had much good to write about and I don't think this will be any different, but I'm going to write anyway.

I think I'm broken.  Much like Chumbawamba, I've been knocked down before, but I could always get back up again.  This time, though, I seem to have the legs of a drunk baby deer with a prosthetic stiletto hoof two sizes two big ... I can't get my footing. (Enjoy that visual) :).

I've met a couple of guys over the past couple of months, but no one who interests me enough to talk to again let alone see again. I'm pretty sure I'm the dented can on the shelf this time and for that, unfortunate men I've met, I am sorry.  I'm sure you're all very nice people, I'm just not very nice at the moment.

Also, I worry that I may be on my way to alcoholism.  OK, that's not true, but I did seriously consider drinking wine before work the other morning instead of coffee.  Seriously. I mean think about it! Wouldn't a nice wine buzz start your morning off nicely? I may have to make up a story about my red teeth (I like kool-aid) and slurring speech (I'm tired), but I could sure get through back-to-back meetings with less of an urge to punch someone in the privates!

Wow, I'm a big Debbie Downer at the moment. Oh well. I'll close with this: is it wrong to seriously consider having a poop cake delivered to my ex for his birthday tomorrow? Do you think I could put enough icing on it and mix it with Devil's Food to cover the smell? He wasn't a big sweets person, so I'm not sure he'd fall for it, but it makes me happy thinking about him eating a big piece of shit cake!

I told you I wasn't very nice at the moment ...

I went to Brazil and all I got was this lousy bald spot??

Forewarning: this one is vulgar. If you're a prude or a judger, just save yourself time and close now. :) If you can appreciate my sense of humor, read on!

Today was officially the closing ceremonies of "Bush Fest 2012." As with all good closing ceremonies, there was music (I'm pretty sure we jammed to some old school rap), tears (one word - RIP), and laughter (Jen was still drunk at 9am).
My co-competitor, Jen, and I made our way to the European Wax Center bright and early with one goal in mind: go bald, or go home!

When we parked, we saw this sign, inviting us to enter through the front door:

We appreciated the courtesy and free wax offer, after all, the competition has spanned a month and they had their work cut out for them, but Jen was quick to let them know that they need to show love for the back door as well (see below):

After the back door hijinx, we made our way inside and were promptly schooled on the difference between a "full" and a "brazilian" wax. Many of you may been under the same impression as I that a full was basically a "high and tight" and the brazilian was the "whole shebang," but actually, the only difference is the "butt strip."

Yes, ladies, for those of you with hairy taints, you can get that waxed for an additional $8. Thankfully, neither of us required a taint waxing, so we proceeded into our SEPARATE rooms with our very nice, patient and professional waxers.

I'll leave the details out, but I will say this: no other woman has been that up close and personal with my chocha. You think it's going to be awkward laying there, spread eagle getting wax spread all over your bits, but it really wasn't that bad. 

Now, it's like I've got a shiny, new toy and no one to play with it!  Thankfully, the "newness" shouldn't wear off for a few weeks, so we'll see what I can drum up. I am going on vacation to Cali in a couple of weeks ... Maybe a young, stoned, impressionable cougar-chasing surfer is in my future?? :)

I get $5 off when I refer a friend, so ladies if you're interested in going from "woogie" to "wow!" let me know. Guys, you can keep yourself manscaped as well, as long as it's above the waist. I'm sure there are some guys that have a "waxing their nads" fetish, but the European Wax Center is not the place for you! Take that shit down to Lola's Strip and Rip! :)

Until next time ...

It's time ...

In case you're new to this blog, I was dumped by the man who I thought was the love of my life a month ago. I guess he's right, he really did do me a favor in the long run, because I don't know how I could have ever loved someone who treated me with such disregard.

I've had a month to marinate in it. I've moped around, bitched, moaned, cried and fought of a huge amount of hatred in my heart. Now, it's time to move on.

It's been a long time since I've felt so much anger toward one person. You know how many times when you break up you wish the best for the other person and hope they end up happy one day? Nope, not this time.

I literally wished him to die and burn in Hell and thought that maybe then he'd feel the kind of pain he caused me. The past few days, though, things have lightened up. It's not healthy to hold on to that kind of anger, so I'm letting it go and moving on.  For reals this time! :)

You know what that means, right? It means it's time to end "Bush Fest 2012" and celebrate the re-debut of "Spiffygina"! I figure by the time I get around to meeting someone and fornicating again I'll practically be re-virginized, so I'm sure this is worth some type of celebration, right?!  Pomp and circumstance, horns, balloons, confetti ... maybe I can get the Marching Cobras to come out and bust a move on behalf of my shiny new girly bits!!

My co-partner in Bush Fest 2012 bowed out earlier this week. We didn't officially "measure up," but I'm pretty sure we made it back to the early 80's. Impressive ...

So, now all I have to do is find my game and get back out there, right? Now ... what did I do with Meat's number ...? :)

Peace out, bitches!

Pity pool-a-palooza

Happy Saturday.  I'm single and home alone watching the Olympics while drowning my pity in a bottle of cheap wine. Seems to be common place this month.

I don't want to wallow in a pity pool, but this is my fucking blog and if I need to get something off my chest, this is the place to do it.  So, if you don't want to "hear" me bitch and whine tonight, stop reading.  OK ... you've been forewarned.

I was thinking yesterday that I've spent more of my life single than in a relationship.  I've had two very short-lived, failed marriages which seem so long ago and foreign; neither lasting more than two years. The longest time I've been in a relationship with anyone - five years - was my last ex-husband and we spent most of that dating. Maybe I'm meant to be single? 

I don't really like being single, that's the problem.  Some people have tried to cheer me up by telling me that relationships are like a yard sale; they look good from a far, but up close it's just someone else's crap.  That actually made me laugh, but it doesn't make it any easier for me to get over this relationship.

I'm tired of "friends with benefits" or "no strings attached" interactions. I want a partner to walk the world with, share experiences, laugh, cry, fight, fuck. All of it. I thought I had that, I really did.  I'm having a very hard time letting the unexpectedness of this breakup go.

See?  I told you I was wading around in a pity pool tonight!  Sweet holy fuck. SNAP OUT OF IT!

The only time I don't think about and dwell on this is when I'm working, so I'm thinking that I may need to be a work-a-holic for a few months.  I catch myself talking to my dogs and apologizing to them for their "daddy" leaving us. How fucking pathetic is that?  They loved him too, that's the problem.  And he promised he loved us back.

So, to make a game out of how long it will be before I am "intimate" with another guy, I've decided to grow a jungle bush.  Yep, a full on, 1970's, get out the hedge trimmers bush.  My friend "J" (I'm protecting the anonymity of her bush) has decided to do this with me.  We're laying down the gauntlet and have lit the torch to kick off a "Bush Off"!

I'm not really sure how we're going to prove who's got the bigger bush when it's over or what the time frame is, because let's face it; I don't want to see a picture and I doubt she does either.  Regardless, we're going to make our bushes our bitch!  Or something like that ... Anyone else feeling froggy and want to join in, just let me know.  The more the merrier.  Let your bush flow free!!

OK, I'm feeling better.  Thanks for "listening." :)

When life gives you lemons ...

So, I got dumped this week.  Out of the blue, what the fuck are you talking about, dumped. 

If you've been following me for at least the past six months you know that I've been dating who I thought was the last guy I'd ever date. I was locked in and committed to this relationship.  Now, it wasn't a perfect relationship, but I don't believe there is such a thing. Every relationship has it's ups and downs, but I thought we loved each other enough to work through the downs.  Apparently I was wrong.

Although I'm angry, heartbroken and confused, I'm not going to trash him in my blog.  I'm a bigger person and I'm working on fixing some karma that I apparently fucked up somewhere down the line. I will say just this one thing: it's fucking ridiculous that he didn't have the decency to have a face-to-face conversation with me about how we could work through this and save our relationship. He ultimately told me in a text message that he "didn't think he'd ever be enough for me and that I'd be better off without him." Chicken shit way out and I don't believe it.  There's something he didn't want to tell me that would have come out face to face ... but I digress.

Thankfully, I've gone through enough heart break in my life that I've learned some good coping mechanisms. In between crying outbursts I work out, bitch to my friends (hello friends), drink cheap wine and kiss my dogs. It's a process and I'm on "official" day two.  I'll let you know how I'm feeling on day seven. :)

I'm not ready to start dating again. The thought of it exhausts me, but the thought of being an old maid sitting around alone, relying on my vibrator for orgasms scares the shit out of me.  I'll let my heart mend for a few and then give it a try again.  He may have knocked me down for a minute, but he didn't knock me out. 

Lemonade anyone??




 

Pants? Who needs 'em?!

It is officially too hot for pants.  I've decided that it's pants-free Thursday and I'm feeling pretty good about it.  I invite you all to strip down and join in the revolution! Cellulite, be damned!

So the Supreme Court upheld "Obamacare" today. The raging liberal in me has been flying imaginary birds at all of the Republicans I know, and anyone I come across who I think may be a Republican.  It's been fun. The rest of me just wonders, "what's next?"

I don't for a second believe the "Rs" will let this go and if Obama can't hold onto the White House, who knows what Romney and his Magical Pants Posse will do?
I'm excited that birth control pills will soon be free so I can have unprotected sex with men and not worry about getting knocked up - that's the bonus for me! (Disclaimer: I do not have unprotected sex with random men ... only one ... and he's fixed.)

We'll see how this continues to play out.  Like everything else in politics, I'm sure it will be blown up, over-exaggerated and beaten into the ground while the Republicans continue in their efforts to deport the "illegals" who are putting their blood, sweat and tears into doing the jobs their white collar lazy asses wouldn't do anyway. But, I digress ...

Now, onto the fun stuff, what have I learned this past week?

- I've learned that opportunities are presented to you for a reason and they should be considered with an open mind and open heart.  I'll leave it at that for now.

- I've learned that while things may look great on the outside, often times it's not so great on the inside.  To my friend who decided to go back to being single this week - you're beautiful and smart and deserve the best.  Don't settle for illusions, uncertainty and broken promises.

- I've learned that regardless of who it is, it's kind of flattering to be hit on at a CVS Pharmacy. Or anywhere for that matter.  I looked good in my black dress and he noticed.  Thank you random black guy.  I appreciate the compliment!

- I've been reminded that I don't care how cheap the wine, if it's cold, it tastes good when it's 110 degrees outside.

That's all.  Peace, love and pants-free fun!

I'm a bloody wealth of knowledge. For reals.

True to my word, it's time for me to share some of my newly acquired "Spiffy wisdom."

Today was an average day. A day like most others, except that today, I learned the symptoms of syphillis. You may have two questions: 1) why wouldn't you already know this and, 2) why in the hell do you need to know the symptoms of syphillis?!?

Allow me to address your questions first: 1) I've never worried about contracting syphillis as I'm not a sailor, nor am I a scoundrel (while I do cuss and act like one occasionally). 2) While perusing the news today, I came across an article about syphillis and how it's soon becoming an untreatable STD as it's adapting to all different antibiotics.  It's becoming the SUPER STD!  Flying through your bloodstream with the greatest of ease.  It's a sore!  It's a rash!  It's blindness, nerve damage and mental disorders!

This article lead to a discussion regarding which STD could cause body parts to fall off as one of my co-workers swears she heard about a guy losing his nose from a rogue, un-treated STD.  I still haven't figured that one out, so if any of you have an answer to that, let me know! 

The second thing I've learned (which I've actually known for a while, but I'm reminded of it each time I pack for a work trip) is that I want to get one of those cool, hard-cased, carry-on size roller bags.  Maybe I could get one with a skull and cross-bones on the outside; that would be FANTASTIC!  Any suggestions?

Until next time ...

Lessons learned and miscellaneous Jibber-jabber

So, you all should know that while I was driving home tonight, I saw Hot Dad driving down the highway next to me!  Yep, he was alive and since he was driving, he obviously hadn't lost his hands, so that couldn't be the reason why he never called me. ;)  I think I'll chalk that one up to fate since I'm much better off with my guy, who also happens to be a hot dad. :)

Since I haven't been able to do much in the way of entertaining the blogosphere lately, I thought I'd make a concerted effort to learn something new every day and share it with the world ... I have a few days of catching up to do, so here's what I've learned lately:

- Blue fingernails are fun until one breaks off and leaves your hand looking mishapen and nubbish (see below for proof).

 

- People in motor cycle clubs are not supposed to wear their patches into restaurants or bar establishments. Doing so could result in a fist to the face or foot up the ass.

- The longer you're in a relationship, the easier it is to justify leaving the house looking like a homeless crack whore: jammie pants, t-shirt / no bra, no make-up, hair disheveled ... you get the picture. I justified my bedraggled look because I was going to get a spray tan, which leads me to the next lesson...

- Versa Spa tans are awesome and don't leave you stinking like cold, wet french fries. Try it! (Note: Spiffy Chick did not get paid for this endorsement, but she'd gladly accept free tans. Thank you).

- Sometimes men have PMS worse than women. All of the bitching and none of the bloating. 

- As much as I love babies, stick me in a room with screaming kids for five minutes and my ovaries revolt.

- Sometimes my dogs really piss me off, but when I'm away from them for more than two days, I miss their stinky, snoring, chubby asses horribly!

- There are few things more amazing than hearing a lion carol or a tiger growl in person. It gives you the chills!

And, the final lesson I've learned lately is that there is always something new to learn. Once you think you know it all, you cease to be bewildered by all that life has to teach you. I refuse to let that happen to me!

Until tomorrow, my pretties ... tell me what you've learned lately!

Not-so-deep thoughts ...

You know when your friends get boyfriends and then you never hear from them anymore because they're always having sex or doing something "couple-y" and you just want to punch them in the face, but you can't because you never see them?  Well, my blog feels that way about me. I've been virtually punched in the face at least 4 times this past month, so I figured it was time to write something obtuse and get this blog-bitch off my ass.

I love to write, but I feel I've lost my "Spiffy mojo" since I don't have much to bitch about any more. I'm in love and I'm feeling more positive about my job, so life is pretty good.

With that, I think I'll focus on random thoughts that may have crossed my mind recently. Are you ready?

• Would I still cuss like a sailor if I had kids? I mean, I know I wouldn't cuss around them, but I really, really like to cuss and I think I would secretly go into a closet and drop F-bombs just to remind myself of who I really am and how well "for fuck's sake" flows off my tongue.
• When someone points out to you "you really cuss a lot," are they trying to tell you that they are really a big pussy and can't handle the sweet, sweet sounds of my colorful language?
• I just wrote two bullet points about cussing. WTF is wrong with me? Damnit ... now three ...
• I went to watch my main squeeze umpire girls softball today and took a look around at all of the parents. Is it written somewhere that once you have kids in sports that 1) you turn into a mouthy, bitchy, know it all who thinks their kid does no wrong; 2) your sense of fashion and understanding how to buy properly fitting clothes goes straight out the door? Seriously, stop in front of a mirror before you leave the house, camel-toe.
• Why is it difficult for people to understand how fucking fabulous I truly am?
• I had a discussion with a stranger in the Phoenix Skyharbor Airport bathroom about how effing hot it is there and how every woman needs a crotch fan.  Now I really, really want to be the inventor of the "Comfy Crotch." I named it, bitches, back off!
• Why is Times New Roman the most annoying font to read? Ugh.

That's all for now, friends. Happy Mother's Day to all of my favorite mommas out there! I hope none of you are breast feeding your three-year old, but if you are, I'm not judging, just saying "ew."

Slackers suck

Yep, I'm a huuuuge slacker.  I have neglected my 12 fans and 10's of readers on Facebook ... for that, I apologize.

The last time I wrote I bragged about how awesome my life was. I just got (what I thought was) my ideal job and I'd just started dating one of the coolest guys in the world. Well, half of that equation is still true, so I've got that going for me, huh?

I've been reminded that a job is a job is a job.  We all have to work to pay the bills, whether we're swinging on a pole, giving blow jobs in the back seat of a car, slinging burgers or selling bullshit.  Whatever it is, it's a job. We'd all prefer to get up each morning and look forward to what we're doing, but I'm pretty sure Brandy gets tired of sweaty dollar bills being shoved into her nether-regions and Lulu could stand taking a day off from orally pleasuring a sweaty, fat loser in the back of a Buick.

So, you may have guessed it: my job wasn't all that I'd hoped it would be.  I'm definitely not in love with it, but I'm holding onto hope that it will all work itself out. I am 100% positive that I'm learning valuable lessons and that does make me happy; I'd just prefer that the lessons weren't shoved down my throat quicker than that Japanese chick sucks down hotdogs in the Nathan's weiner eating contest. I'm choking!

My boyfriend, on the other hand, is effing fantastic!  The word "boyfriend" seems so trite, but I think referring to him as my "male friend" would make it sound cheap and meaningless, and he's definitely not that. I could refer to him as "Lucky Guy 2012," I suppose ... :) I kid ... I'm the lucky one.

For example, for those of you who weren't witness to the shit-storm that was Spiffy on Snake Saturday (a northland tradition), know that I was absolutely the drunkest I'd ever been. I was a stumbling, slurring, drunken piece of work by 12pm. Ugh.  

I blacked out most of the day, passed out at some point and woke up pissed off and ready to fight anyone who was willing.  He took care of me all day, lead me around by my hand, held my purse while I (may have) passed out in the shitter, made sure I got home safely, brushed off my attempts to fight and forgave me the next day. And did I mention HE'S HOT?!!  Karma is finally swinging back in my direction. :)

I need to think of new and exciting things to write about.  I wouldn't be Spiffy if I didn't have something to bitch about, right?? Suggestions??

Live long and prosper, friends. 

Boomerangs of love??

I know that my "Spiffy" alter-ego often comes off as a surly, smart-ass bitch, but the truth is I'm a bleeding heart, tree-hugging, hopeless romantic who believes that the world would be a better place if we all just got along (except Sarah Palin ... I don't want to get along with her. Or Ann Coulter. Or Nancy Grace. Or Carrot Top. He gives me the creeps). OK, maybe we can't all get along, but you get the picture, right?

I'm not a religious girl, but I do believe that the energy you put out into the universe will be sent back to you. If you're always negative and mean and rude, then it's likely you'll feel like you're constantly being bent over without so much as a kiss. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, if you put positive thoughts into the universe and treat people how you'd like to be treated, good things will be sent your way. Call it good Karma or whatever you believe, but all I know is that good things are coming back around to me like boomerangs full of love! (Insert cheesy analogy).

I mentioned before that I got a new job, so you all should know that I. Love. My. Job. I haven't felt this "at home" and necessary and challenged at a job since I worked for McDonald's in 1985. It's important to be able to count the change back correctly and put the right amount of salt on the fries. Seriously ...

The next fantastic boomerang that has recently been thrown my way is in the form of a hot guy who wants to be my boyfriend. Tee hee!

You all know that I've been out on A LOT of first dates that haven't really lead to much of anything. I've gotten some great stories and have held onto hopes that one of the many frogs would turn out to be Timothy Olyphant (He's fucking fantastic and I'm not a Prince Charming kind of girl ...), and I think I've finally met my match.

I'll leave him his anonymity for now and keep the details of our budding relationship close to my heart, but I will tell you this; he's cool and sweet and he digs me. And he's hot ... that's all a girl can ask for, right? Thankfully, I've known him for around 10 years, so we don't have to pretend to be anything we aren't.  I know the player that he used to be and he knows the freak that I still am. :)

Until next time ... peace, love and hot sauce. I really like hot sauce.

Have you ever had the feeling that life is sitting on your chest, pinning you down and punching you in the face with your own fists, taunting, "why are you hitting yourself??" I've felt like that for a while now, but I think things are finally turning around!

I mentioned last week that I had a secret and I announced it on FB earlier in the week, but I want to talk about it here, too. I got a new job!

You remember when you were a kid and you dreamed about what you would be when you grew up? Well, all I ever dreamed about being was an MTV VJ. I wanted to be the next Nina Blackwood. I had the hair in the 80's and I smoked enough back then that I could have had her voice in no time flat.

When I realized that was highly unlikely, I then decided I'd take it down a notch and focus on being a DJ on a rock station. I mean, come on. DJ's get to meet all of the rock stars and just sit around and play music all day, right?

So I dropped $3k on the Columbia School of Broadcasting and took a correspondence course, learning important skills like how to properly pronounce Moscow (it's moss-ko, not moss-cow), and how not to pop my "ps" (I still haven't figured that one out), but you get the picture. All really, really important skills ...

Needless to say, that pipe dream went nowhere, and a new dream soon took hold of my heart: I wanted to work for an advertising agency. Unfortunately, I realized this dream in my early 30s, way too late in life to start over as an intern and work my way up. I've always held onto the dream, but I never really believed it would actually happen ... but it finally has!

As of February 13th, I'm an account executive with Gragg Advertising; a small shop with a big hold on the market. I'm super excited about the challenge and opportunity. I was made to do this and I have no doubt I'm going to kick this job's ass sideways, up, down and backward! I've always felt like I wasn't living up to my potential and I'm about to find out what I'm made of, believe that!

I have bitter sweet feelings about leaving my current job. I won't miss the job itself, but I will miss the people. Thankfully, I know the one's who matter will always be in my life. I just won't have the pleasure of laughing with them every day or busting into spontaneous chair-crunk dances.

The next chapter of my life is about to begin, and I promise it will be much more action-packed and with fewer typos than the last few ... Stay tuned.

Secrets, epiphanies and random mish-mash

Sorry that I've been AWOL for a few. I've had a lot going on (yeah, yeah ... don't we all). But seriously, I have.

Hey, guess what?  I have secrets. Yes, I know it's difficult to believe that I can keep anything to myself with as much "sharing" as I do on here, but I do have a couple of good, juicy secrets right now.  One of them I will hopefully be able to share soon, the other one, I most definitely will not.  It does make me feel naughty, though, telling you that I have a secret that I won't share. It's almost as good as sharing it. :)

Moving on ... I was talking to a friend this week about my recent epiphany that I need to leave some sort of legacy behind. I guess it's not really an epiphany; I've always wanted to make a mark on this world. It's more of a "come to Jesus" with my future self that I'd better get off my ass and figure out how I'm going to leave this world a better place than I found it on July 3, 1970 at around 8:32 a.m.  I mean, seriously. People were starting to wear hot pants, Michael Jackson had the #1 song and some maniac thief was President. It shouldn't be TOO difficult to kick 1970's ass, right?

He told me that my writing could be my legacy. I'm not sure that he's actually read my blog, but I guess it leaves some sort of legacy, or bad taste ... whatever you want to call it. :)

So, what am I going to do? I know I've talked about this before, but I'm still looking for some good ideas here, people!

I have one great friend who is a liberal, tree-hugging freak like me and is always willing to volunteer her time for the greater good. She has talked me in to judging a science fair next month (pause for laughter). Anyone who knows me knows that my experience with science projects went about as far as what I could mix with vodka without poisoning myself, but I'm going to give it a try! She assured me that there will be other scores and that my lack of scientific knowledge won't destroy these young, noble minds. I'll report the outcome, don't you worry.

I guess I need to close with random mish-mash since that's what I decided the title would be, so I'll give you this - I'm 99% sure I could never be a swinger. I appreciate the concept, but I can't willingly let some other woman perform unmentionable sexual favors for my man. Now ... if I were completely over him and didn't want to perform unmetionable sexual favors for him myself, that's another story.  That's why I left that 1% possibility in there ... :)

Peace, love and juicy secrets, friends!

I can't make this up, people ...

So, I haven't told this to the "blogosphere," but I was dating a guy for a few weeks.  Yep.  I made it to "a few weeks" status. (Confetti, horns, whoo hoos. Enough.)

This particular guy was someone whom I'd dated around four years ago.  It (obviously) didn't work out for various reasons.  The "relationship" (I use the term loosely) ended on bad terms back then, and I never thought I'd want to speak his name again let alone date him.  Time heals wounds, I suppose.  Or, in my case, faded just exactly how large of a douche bag he truly was ... for a few weeks.

When he started "pursuing" me again, I knew that I didn't feel the same way that I felt four years ago, but my dating life hadn't been all that fantastic lately so I thought I'd open up my heart and give it a try.  He assured me that he was "a different person," and I believed him.

I won't go into all of the details, but I quickly realized that the feelings weren't developing and likely wouldn't be rekindled. I could forgive how he'd treated me in the past, but I couldn't forget.

Unfortunately, he thought he could buy my affections: nice dinners, lots of movies, Christmas presents, you get the picture. Men, know this; regardless of how much money you throw at me, it's not going to make me dig you if you're truly a selfish, petty, lying douche bag.

It turns out he hadn't actually changed, he'd just gotten better at the bullshit.  He is still a petty, passive aggressive prick.

Case in point: When I told him that I'd like to talk to him about us, he asked me to send him a text message. When I apologized and told him that I just couldn't forgive the past and didn't feel "those feelings" for him, he told me he wished I would have told him before he spent all of the money on me. Yeah ... it's obvious you're a MUCH better person ...

I get it.  Your ego was bruised and your feelings were hurt, but take it like a man and move on.  Instead, I got a text message from him today asking if he could get his cock ring back.  No, seriously.  He wants his cock ring back.

So many thoughts ran through my head about how I could respond to this request. One daydream I had was just to send him a check for $25 and write "for the cock ring" in the memo line. I would send along a little note calling him a "petty little bitch" and tell him not to spend it all in one place. But, I decided that would make ME the petty little bitch and, quite honestly, I really don't want to waste $25 on a cock ring.

Then I thought about telling him that I don't have it any more, that my dog got ahold of it and it's now her chew toy. I figured he wouldn't believe that one, so I decided I'd just mail it to him. So hey, USPS, keep an eye out for a cock ring in a Scentsy box.  It's on the way!

Little does he know, I still have the last cock ring he left at my place four years ago, so I'm not down any sex toys.  Score one for Spiffy! :)