It's my birthday, bitches!

I turned 45 years young this month.  It’s crazy!  I remember being in my 20’s and thinking that 35 was old, let alone 45. Funny how your perspective changes over the years... Honestly, I don’t feel older (other than my fucking knees); I just feel wiser, which is a good thing!

I started thinking about how much things have changed over the past 10 years and how I’ve changed, which leads me to my inspiration for this post (insert game show sounds): Spiffy 35 vs. Spiffy 45 – Who Would You Do??  OK, not really. We all know you’d do both of me, but let’s take a moment to compare my life 10 years ago to my life now.

Year, 2005: Spiffy had been happily married since December, 2004. With marriage came a few extra “happy” pounds,” but thankfully her husband didn’t mind. She was working at a job that she didn’t love, but she didn’t hate either. She had a nice house and great friends and family.

For most of the year, Spiffy was happy. She and her husband decided to do what most couples do- start a family. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans.  These losses (yes … there was more than one) weighed very heavily on Spiffy and she turned bitter and got very, very sad. She turned into a person she is very ashamed of and became self-destructive. Like most things, she was pretty good at destroying relationships too, and effectively destroyed her marriage by mid-2006.

So yeah … married life treated me well. If I’m being honest and not “Spiffy surly,” I enjoyed being married and my ex was is a great guy. Unfortunately, we didn’t weather the Spiffy Storm. He’s much happier now with a new wife and a family, so it all ended as it should, I suppose.

Fast forward 10 years to 2015. While Spiffy has had her share of first dates and a few male lovers (slut), there have unfortunately been no long-term relationships in Spiffy’s life. She has definitely loved and lost, so I guess you could say not much has changed over the past 10 years … damn.

But seriously, I’m much more accepting of who I am and I no longer believe that I’m meant to breed. I own my own home; I have a great job and an awesome fur baby. All that’s missing is that ONE man who will love me as much as I love him. Sounds easier than it is, unfortunately … that’s OK. I’m persistent!

Never to end on a down note, while I’ve got a little more flab on my belly and bum, I would like to point out that my boobs are just as awesome at 45 as they were at 35. BOOM!

V8 Moments ...

I was a little salty in my last post. I apologize for the rant, but I had somethings to unload. Consider my load dropped. ;)

Now, onto something more positive and exciting - I'm buying a house!

I know, some of you who know me are shaking your head going, "what the WHA!?" Here's the deal; I had a V8 moment last month while I was sitting around, thinking about my life. It just hit me that it was time. I am tired of living in someone else's home.

I've never really wanted to own my own home. I thought it would probably be too expensive and I didn't want to mess with the upkeep. I was also holding onto the (now pretty slim) possibility that I'd meet the next "Mr. Spiffy." 

I'd daydream about him professing his eternal love to me... We'd decide that we couldn't spend any nights away from each other, so we'd buy a house and in this house we'd have lots of awesome sex! (RECORD SCRATCH) But then I woke up. 

I realized that I'm tired of waiting around for life and love to HAPPEN to me. I need to MAKE it happen. I know ... so philosophical, Spiffy, but I really do hold myself back from happiness at times and I'm not sure why. I'm trying really hard to fix this character flaw!

I started thinking about how much I don't like being told what I can and can't put in my garbage disposal, how many dogs or what breed dog I can own, whether or not I can nail anything into my walls, or worrying about making too much "noise." (wink, wink)

So, about a month ago I thought I'd put it out to the universe that it was time for me to be a SOLO homeowner. I reached out to a girl friend of mine who had recently posted on Facebook that she's now a real estate agent. I've known Annie since middle school, but I never really "knew" her.

I am so happy that I had my epiphany and so happy that I reached out to Annie! She isn't only my real estate agent; I really do consider her my friend. She's SO positive and within the first week of looking, helped me find my PERFECT little forever home!

Everything has moved really fast, but really smoothly. I'm a big believer in things that are "meant to be," and feel that this process has moved as smoothly as it has because it's the right path; it's the path I'm supposed to be taking. 

So, barring an apocalypse, by the end of January I will be moved into my NEW HOME! It's been renovated and is seriously move-in ready. I'll have to put up a fence in the Spring, but that's about it. 

So, there it is. The first non-surly Spiffy blog post. Never fear ... I'm sure I'll have something to snark about soon, so keep on checking back. ;)

Truth be told ...

If I'm anything, I'm honest. Sometimes to a fault. I don't believe in telling people lies to make them feel better or to avoid an uncomfortable situation. Lies NEVER make you feel better and uncomfortable situations pass as quickly as they came along.

I've come to realize that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who would rather lie to you or avoid uncomfortable situations by just ignoring you, and those who can step up and tell it like it is. 

I've got several examples, but let me start with one that is so outrageous, I still can't wrap my mind around it. I dated a guy a couple of years ago and if you'll recall, I wrote about the number he did on my head and my heart. Well, over the years I've let go of the hurt and anger I felt toward him and tried to remember that he's a human being who just handles things (much) differently than I would. 

Every once in a while I'll get a Facebook message from him wanting to apologize and weasel his way back into my life. Up until recently, I've kept him blocked (literally) and thwarted his efforts.  

In July, when my Baby Z passed away (my dog ... not my actual baby), he apparently FB stalked me and saw my post because he reached out and sent his condolences. I accepted and we started talking. I shook the ice off my shoulders and gave him a chance to be my friend again over the next couple of months, but, once again, he proved that he just can't be honest about anything. His M.O. was always to make plans then just leave me hanging with no apology or explanation. The straw that broke the Spiffy's back was when he asked me to go out on a Friday, then never followed up. He just let me sit around and wait to find out we were doing and then blew me off. 

Guys (and girls) let me tell you; there's a better way to handle a situation like this. Just tell the person that you changed your mind or that something came up. Or, better yet, don't ask them out if you don't plan on following through. It's pretty simple. There wouldn't have been an argument or any hard feelings if he'd said he changed his mind and been honest about his intentions, but instead, he treated me like my time and my feelings meant nothing. Fuck off for good. Douche.

I'll also never understand why someone chooses to not respond to a direct question - literally never respond - vs. just telling the truth. For example, I was texting back and forth with a friend of mine, and about the 3rd or 4th text I decided to ask him if he wanted to go to a concert with me. I have an extra ticket and was looking for someone cool to go with me. No strings, just two adults enjoying some kick ass music. If we happened to have ended up horizontal sometime in the evening, well, so be it... ;) 

Instead of telling me no, he wasn't interested, he literally said nothing. No response. At. All. Is it that hard to tell a girl no, guys? It's a small word. It's not necessarily a hurtful word; it's an honest word. In fact, it's much more hurtful to just ignore a person completely. Be human. 

That goes for girlfriends, too. Don't be a dick and not respond when a friend reaches out to you. I don't care how busy you are or how tired you are or blah, blah, blah. Be a friend. Keep in touch. Text message or call or send a carrier pigeon. Whatever. 

Sorry, I'm feeling a little salty today. Someone flipped on the bitch switch, huh?? Like I said ... honest to a fault. 

Alright, that's enough of that. I'll leave on a positive note and ask for all of your positive thoughts - I've decided to buy a house! I've gotten my pre-approval and I'm going to start looking next week. I'm pretty excited about it, but I'm keeping a level head and open mind. I'm not going to get my heart hurt if I can't find what I'm looking for, but I REALLY hope I do!  I'll write more about this adventure next time. 

Awkward ...

There are many situations that could be deemed awkward. Like walking around the Wyandotte County courthouse wearing Santa boots. Or, receiving a text message from your ex "lover" that he obviously meant to send to his new whore. And, how about being asked out for drinks by a hot guy, only to find out he's got a serious girlfriend?  Yep. All awkward, and all happened to me ...

The Santa boots thing - not a huge deal. I got a few curious glances, but let's face it; even with the boots, I was still better dressed than 99% 100% of the people waiting in line 5 HOURS to renew their tags. Thankfully, my purpose for gracing the halls was business related, so I was in and out with a nod and a wink! 

The text message thing was really more of a pisser than it was awkward. It was apparently awkward for him, though, because I haven't heard from him since (prick), but whatever. He was sending the same texts to her that he'd sent to me a month earlier, so that says a lot about his game, huh? At least I held onto that dick pic ... (it was impressive ... I couldn't delete it. Don't judge.)

Drinks with the hot guy - I'll be honest, I had a feeling he had a girlfriend, but I wasn't sure. It was quickly confirmed when he told me he'd been looking at houses in Mission Hills with her earlier in the day.  Plus, he spent most of the time asking me business-related questions instead of staring deep into my cleavage. I'd say that's pretty serious.

Oh well. Until the next awkward encounter, stay smooth like Skippy!

I'm talkin' me and Dot are swingers...

As in "to swing..." Yep. That happened.

Usually I'm fully in touch with my inner "freaky little monkey," but something happened last night that I totally missed until I replayed the evening in my head this morning - I'm pretty sure I was propositioned to "swing" with a couple of 60 year olds. 

First, let me talk about this couple. The female in this "swinger sammie" (we'll call her B) is cool, hip, hot and didn't look a day older than maybe late 40's. This woman is who I aspire to be when I'm 60. Seriously. She sings in a band, plays a couple of instruments and is strikingly beautiful. I almost asked about her skin care regimen because she's doing something right, for sure!

Her husband, on the other hand, must have sprinkled magic fairy dust on himself to veil his true appearance because he's no where near her league. Good ups to him because she seems to love him with all of her heart; they're actually a really cool, sweet couple. 

So, onto the kicker. When they left the party (they held B's 60th surprise b-day party at my event space last night), he turned around to me and said, "Get in touch if you want to party. We're always down to party." I didn't think much about it, told him I didn't know of any parties and went home.  DUH!

Am I wrong? Maybe he really did just want to party with me (I am kind of cool), but I think there was a naughty undertone to his version of "party." Is "party" code for something in the swinger world?? Kind of like the white rock? 

I'm pretty sure I smelled the marijuana during the evening, so maybe he was asking me to "party" aka smoke a "fatty boom blatty"? Who knows. Regardless, neither swinging nor dope are part of my repertoire, so I'd disappoint them either way. 

Never one to disappoint, I'll leave you all with this. 

Back by Popular Demand!

I've had a few people ask me over the past few months when I was going to write again. After two friends in the same night told me that they miss reading my fucked up life stories, I decided it was time to jump back on the blog train to "Over Sharesville." Jill and Val - here you go!

So here's the deal; I've had a lot to write about, I've just been a little apprehensive about sharing. Over the years I've exposed most of my "soft underbelly" of failed relationships, interesting encounters, sarcastic opinions and poor decisions. Like a ninny, I started worrying about what people thought of me, so I quit sharing. Plus, I've had some scars that cut a little deeper than most over the past few months, so I needed time to heal and put life back into perspective. I'm feeling at least 80%, so I think it's time to let Spiffy back out and set her loose. (Hands at 10 and 2. Check mirrors. Signal. Enter traffic) ... and we're off!

I know that a lot of my married friends think that I live the glamorous life being single with no kids. I can bone who I want. Sleep as late as I want. Do whatever I want (...it does sound fucking fantastic, doesn't it?) Truth be told, the shininess has worn off. I'm ready to find my best friend and partner in crime. 

The problem is the same as what it's been for a while now, though - slim pickins (insert pic for effect). 

I guess I should clarify: there are a lot of men, but not a lot of men who I'd let in my pants. Well, I guess I should clarify: there are a lot of men who I'd let in my pants, but they don't seem to want in my pants. Actually, let me clarify: there are a lot of men who I'd let in my pants and who want in my pants, but they don't want anything more.  Finally.

I think I'll just blame it on Obama. He seems to be at fault for everything else, right Republicans??! But, I digress...

I'm not going to dive in any deeper tonight. Just sticking my toe in to check the water. But, I will close with this - be weary of men who buy mini paper clips and try to play them off as nipple clamps. They are NOT the same. 

Smooches!

I Don't Mean to Brag, But ...

I'm a funny mo fo!  I've been reading back through all of my blogs since the beginning (copying them into Word so I can start penning my life into my best selling memoir!), and have been laughing for the past hour.  My life truly is a shit-show at times!

I've noticed that I haven't been as surly, crude, or (if I'm being honest in my critique), as funny since I was dumped by d-bag in July of 2012, and I need to do something about that! 

So, with that being said, you should all know that at the prodding of a couple of my friends, I've decided to weigh my breasts. And, contrary to their smart-assed belief, my boobs are only around 400 grams or 1 lb. each. So THERE! 

Note: These are not my boobs. And, they definitely weigh more than 1 lb each.

Now, I'm not making any promises that the weighing process was scientific. I used my Weight Watcher scale and tried to stay still, but it's pretty close! Yeah, that just happened...

I haven't felt well the past couple of days and stayed home from work today. Let's just say, I'm getting bored. There's got to be something more productive for me to do during my day of convalescence, but who knows. At least I learned something new! :)