Posted in Uncategorized

Zero Fuck Thirty

If you present me with a physical challenge, 9 times out of 10 I will give it a shot. Most of the time, I’ll meet that challenge and the rest of the time I’ll fail miserably while laughing so hysterically, you’d be convinced that I love failure (please see my love life if you’d like supporting evidence of my love of failure). Not trying something physical (unless it has a high probability of resulting in death) just doesn’t seem to be in my playbook. My favorite is when someone tells me that I can’t do something. When that happens, I’ll do it until I succeed. Then, I’ll do it a few more times just to be sure you’ve tasted every drop of my success. That’s what he said.

Sadly, the majority of struggles in my life aren’t physical ones, they’re emotional ones. I talk a lot about not giving many fucks, but that’s not really true. I just choose what it is I’m going to give a fuck about fairly carefully.  This results in an awful lot of things that won’t matter in 5 years being tossed to the “no fucks given” pile without a second thought.


So when I find something that matters to me, I’m going to give all of the fucks necessary to hold on to it. I will give and give until I reach into my fuck tote and discover it is empty. Let me tell you, this is a terrible, terrible plan. Here’s why.

It’s very rare to find someone else who thinks a lot like I do. Now, we can be on the same page on a lot of different things, but when it comes right down to it, we’re not putting the same things into the same sorting piles. When that happens, it becomes a matter of who can hold on to their pile of fucks the longest. I tend to willingly hand all of mine over to the other person and so I’m left with no fucks at the end of the journey. In my mind, if I don’t give my all, then I’m really not trying.

What this leaves me with is a broken spirit and the belief that I am not falling in love ever again, nor will I ever be considered emotionally well-adjusted. Before you say that sounds pretty jaded and negative, let me assure you that I’ve tried, many many times. At 45, it has always turned out poorly and the fucks I have left to give in that area are few and far between.


It has become apparent to me that the fucks I have to give are not infinite. You can’t continually plow through them time and time again, and expect them all to be replenished. So, you blow your load of fucks on this one shiny thing that you just have to have. It probably goes well for a while, and you dish out your allotted fucks over time. Sometimes, they’re replenished as you go. But if you’re using up more than you’re getting back, what you’re going to end up with is a sore, dry pussy, which always results in zero fucks. At that point, you’re just waiting for the next time he tries to sneak it in there, but lo and behold, you have no fucks left. THE END.

in a box

When I was younger, my fuck stash lasted me about 4 years in a shitty relationship. My first few lasted about that long before they crashed and burned in a fiery glory where I believe I declared, “I just don’t give a fuck anymore.” Then, I got married. In total, we were together for 12 years. Somewhere in there, I obviously received more fucks than I gave away. That would likely be the first 4 1/2 years or so. Nothing else explains making it past that 4-year fuck giving threshold.
Shortly before my son was born, the fuck pile began dwindling and at some point, he stopped giving them back. I started throwing them out there everywhere I could because I didn’t want to fail. With that came a dissolution of anything that resembled love and by year #7 the only thing I gave a shit about was my kid. I stuck it out for 3 more years, thinking that he’d throw something in the fucking well, but no.

After that, it was a series of part time things that I tried giving various amounts of fucks to, but here I am almost 6 years after leaving my marriage and when I look in my bag, I’ve only got about 4 fucks in there for dating and intimate relationships. There’s a fairly unlimited supply for my child, but that’s fully replenished with every “I love you, Mom.” There are a ton of fucks for my friends who have always been there for me – you know – those who consistently make me feel like I’m important in some way to their lives. These people are giving every fuck I give right back to me and so it seems like I’m on a good roll there.

Four fucks. That’s all I’ve got for dating and relationships, people. So if I give you one, you better sure as shit give it right back. Otherwise, I’m not giving you another one and you’ll become “One Fuck Chuck”, and I have zero reservations about that.
By now you’ve probably figured out that I am currently out of my four relationship fucks. Until I get one or two back, I’m sure as hell not giving any more away. I’ve gotten used to being alone and doing it all my way. That’s what vibrators are for. And if you have a problem with that, please remember that I don’t give a fuck.

box 2

Posted in Uncategorized

Ah, Twitter…

I’ve long been a fan of social media.  Back in the days of MySpace, I used to write every single day.  I was kind of a big deal over there and was often ranked in the top ten blogs daily.  I made some amazing friends, many of whom I’m still close to today.

I was reluctant to move to FaceBook because the blogging interface was different and the “comments” section just didn’t hold up to what I was used to.  But I moved anyway and tried blogging here and there, posting links and trying to get my friends to come over to the other side of the fence.  I found it was easier to make a comment on FB and respond back and forth via comments there than in a blog somewhere.  However, because of the more personal side of FB, I wasn’t able to meet new people and bring more into my “inner circle”, and no, I’m not talking about my vagina.

What you need to understand about me is that I have HUGE amounts of social anxiety.  While I have a need to interact with people, I also have a need to be alone, in my own space, having conversations on my own timeline.  It’s what helps me stay connected to the world outside of my own front door.

This is where Twitter came in.  I had so much fun just reading other people’s thoughts and sharing my own.  I found some really funny people.  I found some really smart people.  I found some like-minded people.  I also found some complete assholes, but that’s not the point.  Twitter filled that need for me to meet new people, share thoughts, and laughter and whatnot.  It was my saving grace as a socially awkward introvert who wants interaction with others.  Until recently…

Somewhere along the line, Twitter stopped being fun.  I’ve met some really fabulous people, several of whom I chat with every day.  Those are the people who saw some sort of value in the silliness I offered up on there and they made the effort to say hi.  Of course, I said hi back and we’ve all been together since.  However, more and more I’m seeing people using Twitter for something other than what I use it for.  I see politics and social policy and opinions about everything under the sun have taken over.  And yes, everyone can use Twitter for however they see fit.  But when I first started following these people, it wasn’t like this at all.  It was light.  It was fun.  It was pure silliness and I ate all of that up.

Suffice it to say as they got more and more serious, I felt left behind.  Not because I don’t have opinions.  Not because I didn’t feel I couldn’t keep up.  No, I can blow nearly everyone away in those areas if I chose to.  I felt left behind because all I want from Twitter is fun and interaction.  I thought I had found that with this wacky group of people and then, for the most part, it was all gone.

That’s when I knew it was time to leave it behind.  Take the true friends I had made with me on email and instant messaging programs, some even on FaceBook, and walk away from the Twitter life, at least for a while. I’m sure I’ll eventually sign back on, which is why I didn’t delete the account. However, for now?  I like my world to be happy and bright.  There’s enough arguing and drama in my own day-to-day life.  I don’t need to read it where I go to laugh.

So, whatever.  I’ll miss the Twitter, but perhaps I’ll find more time to spend talking to the people I like – who actually make an effort to like me back.  If that’s you, thank you.  I’m always around, somewhere.




Posted in Uncategorized

Leap Day Isn’t a Real Day

This project is turning out to be harder than I previously thought. I had to write up my review of The Walking Dead, then I spent the extra day being anxious over whether it was good enough for my liking. I also don’t care for Leap Day.  It’s just an extra day in the year to fuck even more shit up.  Then there was the whole “I have to vote tomorrow!” thing. While I’m on that subject:

If you live in a state where your primary is today, go vote. People died to give you that right. The most responsible thing you can do is to show up and vote for someone. Remember that shitty politicians are elected by people who don’t vote, so you really do make a difference.

Just be sure whoever you’re voting for is someone you wouldn’t mind dating if looks were of no importance to you. I say that because there’s not one single attractive person in this election. If you couldn’t see yourself dating any of them, you still need to vote. Maybe look at who you could imagine giving your eulogy at your funeral. If that doesn’t work, print out their pictures, play spin the dildo, and see who it lands on.

The point is, get out there and vote. It matters, even in the primaries. Someone, somewhere died so that you could do so. You kind of owe it to him/her. Also, if you ask nicely, perhaps their spirit will guide that dildo to a really super candidate who wins and make a huge positive difference in all of our lives. You never know.



Because I didn’t have much time to delve into anything yesterday, I took the time to think up some questions for my smart phone. Let’s see what kinds of answers I get, shall we? I’m not even going to fact-check these things.

  • The air from a human sneeze travels at an average of 100 miles per hour more.
  • Air leaves your body during a cough at up to 50 miles per hour.
  • The average erect human penis is 5.6” long with a 4.8” circumference. Oh.  Here’s to dating above-average men!
  • Ejaculate travels at an average of 10 miles per hour.

That’s all I could think to ask it last night as I sat in the bathtub with my beer, pondering the next stage of my game and who I was going to vote for.



Trying new things is going to be limited mostly to products during the week and last night was no different. I know it’s not exciting, but I’m just a regular girl with a regular life. Maybe I’ll buy a new vibrator this week and we can have something fun to discuss.

I have naturally curly hair. If I don’t put any product in it at all, I wind up with hair similar to Gilda Radner’s Rosanna Rosannadanna.


If I put too much in it, it’s crunchy and wiry. If I flat iron it, it just kind of sits there. If I flat iron then use a big curling iron, it takes forever, but it looks decent and it’s soft, but it’s so much work, and truthfully, I’m too lazy for that unless there’s a chance I might get laid.

I have always used mousse, but I bought something I thought I’d try out and see how it went. So, I bought this:


Marc Anthony True Professional Strictly Curls Curl Enhancing Styling Foam

First of all, this smells like lemons! It’s a fantastic scent and it made me want vodka. Don’t judge me. Vodka with lemonade is one of the greatest gifts int his world. It certainly would have improved my evening.  Anyway… I learned very quickly that you need less than ¼ of the amount you’d use of this shit if it was mousse. It’s really thick and coats your hair pretty completely.  I will admit to being a bit unsettled by how thick it was.  (Not the first time I’ve ever thought that either). I did my usual, scrunch, tossle, go about my evening.   Every now and again, I scrunched while on the move. I didn’t bother to look at it because I’d be going to bed shortly and I’d see it when I went to brush my teeth.

When I finally got in front of the mirror, I was shocked. Strictly curls? Curl enhancing? No. This wasn’t even curly. It was kind of wavy, yet frizzy with no real shape and just not right. It’s a damn good thing I’m sleeping alone these days.  I put it up in my usual pony tail and climbed into bed. I’d check it out in the morning.

I get up. It’s primary election day. I don’t have a lot of time here and…Oh, what the fuck? I now look like I have a poodle who’s been stuck in the rain living on my head. I take a deep breath and get out my little spray bottle. This has some fancy mixture in it that works like Febreze for my hair and refreshes the product so I can restyle in about 45 seconds. NOT TODAY. This shit in my hair was like cement. I couldn’t even get my fingers through it. I was trying so hard to get out of the house early so that I could vote and here I was going to have to wash my hair again. I didn’t prepare enough coffee for this.

Needless to say, I won’t buy this again. I’ll try using it differently, maybe more, maybe less. Maybe I’ll have to blow dry it. But I’m telling you, if you want carefree and easy, this shit isn’t it. You’d have better luck getting a guy to jizz in your hair several times and… No, wait. Don’t do that.  That’s an entirely different kind of cement in your hair and you don’t want that either. Back to the drawing board.

Posted in Humor, Life

Coffee Everywhere


I decided that I wouldn’t write on the weekends. I will do my little TV watching and writing for that entertainment website I told you about earlier. I’ll learn things and try things and keep notes so I can have a little bank of sorts. That way if I get really sick or something, I’ve got some things lined up to share.

I’ve really been missing my favorite bartenders from a little place I used to go to near my house. They’ve all left there and are scattered around here and there, so I made it my plan this weekend to find at least one of them, and go see a friendly face. I had to drive pretty far to see him, but seeing Matt for a bit made it worth my while. Next weekend, I’m going to go back up there because he’ll be working with another of my favorites, Brandon. They can serve me coffee, I’ll tip like I’m spending the day drinking beer, and it’ll be a winning situation. Maybe I’ll convince one or both to go have a beer after they’re done working.



It is said that coffee, as a drink for human consumption, began in Ethiopia. A goat herder, possibly named Kaldi, noticed his goats would not sleep at night after eating berries from certain trees. He told the abbot from the local monastery about the way the goats behaved. So, the abott got some of the “berries” (coffee beans, presumably) and made a drink with them. And do you know what happened? It kept him awake and energized on the evenings when he had to sit up and pray all night. So, there you have it. Coffee made religion less likely to put the monks to sleep. Yes, I went there.   Now go read about the history of my second favorite beverage, coffee!



Well, I tried a couple of things over the weekend, mostly things like going to the bar at Kroger on Saturday before grocery shopping. I didn’t get a seat, because it was packed full. Apparently, in my area the Kroger bar is the place to be on a Saturday afternoon. Instead, I shopped, went home and opened a beer that was in my fridge. Hellrazer IPA by DuClaw. It’s got an ABV of 7.5%, but it really didn’t taste like an IPA at all. I rated it like a 3.25 on Untappd, but it really wasn’t anything I’d go out of my way to find.


While I was shopping, I ran across something that combined two other things I like a lot – coffee and yogurt. Dannon makes a coffee flavored lowfat yogurt. This is not that “lite” yogurt, where they give you fake sugar and what not. This is your standard lowfat yogurt with all of the sugary goodness you’d come to expect. Sort of.


Here was my logic (and yes, I had to apply logic in order to be able to purchase just one container of this yogurt). I LOVE coffee, and I do mean I LOVE coffee. I put ½ and ½ in my coffee, but I’ll use regular old 2% milk if I’m out. This is made with 1.5% milk, so it’ll be similar to coffee, right? WRONG.

I cannot begin to tell you my disappointment when I first opened this container. Now I’m used to stirring my yogurt, but the top of this container seemed to be mostly water. I figured it made sense – coffee is made with water. So, I checked the expiration date (March 25, 2016), stirred it well and then…I smelled it.

If there’s one thing I learned from Stephen at beer school, it’s that if you’re going to taste something, you should smell it first.  Much of your sense of taste comes from the associated scent.  As an aside, you probably want to do this with EVERYTHING you’re going to put in your mouth for the first time. Just saying. Anyhow. It smells like… plain yogurt. Huh. So I taste it, expecting the vibrant taste of well-creamed coffee to fill my mouth.


Now, I have to tell you this before I go on. I have had a lot of things in my mouth, most of which I sort of knew what I was getting before hand. I knew what the texture would be and, for the most part, the taste. Sure, there are some variations depending on fruit, salt and alcohol content, but the basic texture and feel in your mouth is the same, regardless. Back to the yogurt.

I put the first spoonful in my mouth and realize that this coffee flavored yogurt tastes just like plain yogurt, with a special something at the end. My tongue was disappointed. But wait! There’s this aftertaste! Is it? Could it be the coffee flavor I was looking for? Why does my mouth feel dry? Why don’t I taste coffee?   Fucking hell, this may very well be the worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, and I was married to a guy who rarely ate fruit. That’s how you know this is bad.

Not willing to give up completely, I decided the next best thing is to add something to it. You know how you can add flavored lube to a dick and have it taste like strawberries and rainbow kisses? I added some actual coffee to this bitch. And…

I didn’t think it was possible to make this worse, but I did it. It’s like if a guy was wearing a condom then took it off and you put your mouth on that man sausage, you’re still going to taste that latex, even if it was “luscious berry flavored”. True story.   I’m going to add more coffee and…

Holy shit balls, this is like soup. A disgusting, baby-poop colored soup that tastes like every disappointment you’ve ever had in your life mixed with the goodness of milk, sugar, and something that may have once resembled coffee, molded and pressed into a dry-tasting pile of shit in a cup and stamped with the misleading label of “COFFEE”. It is the fruit roll-up of the strawberry world, but the generic version that is sitting on a shelf for a couple of years.  You don’t want that inside of you.  Just like a few of the guys I’ve “dated”.  I use “dated” here the way Dannon used “Coffee” on this label.  It’s not really accurate, but it’s what people want to hear.

I thought maybe if I sucked it through a straw it would help, but that really didn’t work and now I’ve got this mouthful of really soupy, dry tasting bullshit yogurt in my mouth and I keep telling myself, “You just need to swallow it and it’ll all be over.” That’s how I got through the last half of my marriage and that’s how I got through that last attempt to make something out of this tub of crap.

Yeah, so that’s a no. I’ll keep my coffee straight up, thank you.  Tell me something “coffee flavored” that really IS coffee flavored and I’ll love you forever.  Maybe.  I mean, forever is a really long time and if I didn’t give birth to you, it’s really likely that I’ll just “love you long time.”

Posted in Life

Violence and Disappointment? Hell yeah!



I was a huge fan of the TV show, “Sons of Anarchy”. Was may not be the right word, because I really still am. I loved the people in it, the characters, the story. I was seriously depressed when it ended and felt like I had been cheated out of a few more seasons of hot biker fantasies playing out on my television. I am the proud owner of every season of SoA on BluRay and I’ve watched all 7 seasons at least 4 times, often having weekend marathons where I’m lucky if I get 2 hours of sleep because I just can’t shut it off.  Seeing Charlie Hunnam’s ass is worth missing a few hours of sleep.  Sex & violence were rampant in that show.  It ended in disappointment.  Story of my life.

Not only did I really love the show itself, but it opened me up to a whole bunch of music that I fell in love with. There are several songs that come on and take me right back to what was happening in the show when the song was playing. One of those is “Coal War” by Joshua James. Season 4, Episode 1: The guys are getting their shit together to get out of jail. Jax has a new haircut! Here’s a link to that opening, because you should see what I see in my head:

Watch and listen, because you can

Now, you listen to the song and I’m going to tell you about an interesting thing I learned yesterday related to the coal wars.


Around the turn of the century, coal mining was huge in America.  As with most commodities that requires good people to work hard for next to nothing while the parent company gets rich, there were labor disputes.  Shocking, I know.  Now, the workers had quite enough of shitty pay for dangerous work and would strike and sometimes riot.  The big coal companies often used private detective companies to keep union organizers out of the area and break up any strikes.  This was done by any means necessary, including murder.

One such agency was the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency out of Roanoke, VA.  Now, these guys were real fuckers, using machine guns and brutal tactics to “persuade” people to get in line.  In 1912, the miners in Paint Creek Union were working on negotiating a new contract with the operators.  Their demands were pay equal to those miners in surrounding communities and some basic human rights issues.

This didn’t go well and the resulting conflict between the Paint Creek and Cabin Creek coal miners and the Baldwin-Felts thugs would go down in history as one of the bloodiest labor disputes in West Virginia History.  You can read about it here.

Out in Colorado, the bullies were the National Guard.  They set out to evict miners from a tent colony in Colorado called Ludlow.  They entered the tent colony on the morning of April 20, 1914 and opened fire with machine guns, aiming at anyone they saw moving.

During the fighting, women and children dug pits to escape the shooting.  However, that evening, the National Guard came in and set fire to the camp.  In one pit, two women and eleven children were discovered.  You can read bout the Ludlow Massacre here.

I got totally lost in the stories of the Coal Wars yesterday, as you can tell.  There was so much I wanted to share with you, but in the interest of brevity (too late, bitch) I’ll stop here.  But look it up.  Click all of the links.  People were assholes then and they’re assholes now.  Patterns of violence that have repeated themselves through history and they’re just going to continue because, yep, assholes.

Among my many vices, one of the ones I’m trying to dump this year is smoking.  The last time I quit, it was relatively easy for me.  I started with cutting out the ones I didn’t think I could do without – that first one in the morning, the one after each meal and the one right before bed.  My thought then was that if I could replace those moments with something else, not smoking the rest of the time would be easier.  It worked that first time and I actually had quit for 2 years and never even missed it.

So last night, I’m getting ready for bed when I realized I hadn’t tried anything.  Well, there’s no time like the present.  I figured I’d try skipping that last smoke before bed.  I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and climbed into bed.  I read for a few minutes, turned out the light and tried to sleep.  For some reason, I started the self-sabotage process.  “Why are you denying yourself this one comfort?  It’s the end of the day.  You worked hard.  You were a superstar mom.  No one is going to pat you on the back other than you.  Why not just have that one thing that you enjoy?  Come on, get out of bed.  Put on your fuzzy pants and jacket.  Go outside and have a smoke.  You earned it.  It’s not like you’ve got someone to snuggle up to who would complain…”  And just like that, my trying ended.  I stood outside being angry at myself, but enjoying that smoke.  I’ll try that one again sometime, but not this week.  It may sound awful, but it’s the one thing I can depend on.  Well, that and masturbation. Because people were assholes then and and they’re  assholes now.  Patterns of disappointment that have repeated themselves through history and they’re just going to continue because, yep, assholes.

See what I did there?

Posted in Life

I Am Wonder Woman Because Beer


I don’t mean to brag, but I was cos-playing before cos-playing was cool. Many Saturday afternoons in the late 70s, my older sister and I would dress up as our favorite TV show characters and play.  One of our favorites was Charlie’s Angels, but we’d usually wind up arguing over who got to be Kelly or Sabrina. No, we didn’t want to be Jill, because neither of us had blonde hair. However, my favorite character to dress up as was Wonder Woman. We’d wait patiently every week to see what kind of trouble Wonder Woman, played by Lynda Carter, would break up with her fabulous boobs and Lasso of Truth and then we’d make up our own scenarios and act them out. I suppose you could say that not only were we into cos-play, but we were also pretty big on fan fiction.

The difference between then and now is that we didn’t spend hundreds of dollars to get the costume just right. We often just wore whatever we had laying around, except when we played Wonder Woman. It was on those occasions that I would break out my Wonder Woman Underoos and use a winter scarf as my Lasso of Truth.



In 1915, William Moulton Marston constructed one of the first versions of the polygraph, that measured blood pressure after people were questioned, noting that when one would lie, there would be a slight rise in blood pressure. This was expanded upon in the 20s by John Larson, who is given credit for inventing the modern polygraph. Stick with me here.

In 1941, Marston was a psychologist, was living with his wife in New York. They sly devil also had a mistress and children by both women – sneaky bastard. He was interested in the women’s suffrage movement. Feeling that comic books were filled with too much violence and dominated by strong, male characters, Marston created (you guessed it) Wonder Woman.

One of the most intriguing pieces of this character is that when she is bound in chains by men, Wonder Woman loses all of her powers.  This is an incredible statement relating directly to women’s suffrage movement and if you don’t believe me:


Left: “This 1912 drawing by Lou Rogers printed in Judge magazine shows how women used chains in the aftermath of the Civil War as a symbol of how they had not been fully emancipated. Courtesy of University of Michigan Library”.  Right: “This pen-and-ink drawing by Harry G. Peter appeared in Marston’s article Why 100,000 Americans Read Comics in American Scholar in 1943-44.  Courtesy of Harvard College Library”
Taken from:


It’s also interesting to note that one of her powers comes from The Lasso of Truth, used to tie up the bad guys and get them to spill their guts. I wonder if it had a blood pressure detector in it.




I promised I would try a new beer last night. The severe storms and tornado warnings last night kept me home, but I had a great selection in my fridge. I decided since I was only going to have one beer that I would make it count. I fumbled through the bottles in the make-your-own-six-pack boxes and came up with this beauty:


Dark Penance by Founders Brewing Co.  My own damn picture of the actual beer I drank.

Founders is out of Michigan and is one of my favorite breweries. I love their Porter and their All Day IPA, so I was pretty sure I couldn’t go wrong here. Dark Penance is an Imperial Black IPA. What does this mean? I figured I’d go straight to the brewery to answer this: “Dark Penance starts with a heavy malt foundation of Crystal malt for sweetness and just enough Midnight Wheat to push the color to black. The bitterness is huge (100 IBUs huge), but balanced by malt sweetness and alcohol burn. The hop flavors and aromas range from citrus to floral to pine—most everything that hops can be—thanks to a delicious blend of hand-selected Chinook and Centennial hops. The Imperial Black IPA is 8.9% ABV.” —

I took the first drink and as I did, it started raining harder than it had all night. DARK PENANCE WAS HERE. My salvation would be found in beer. We were under a tornado warning and the sky was this weird greenish color. But it was only 5:45 and the weather alert said the tornado wouldn’t be near my area until 6:05, so I figured I had time to drink. At first taste, it was incredibly bitter and I thought that I couldn’t possibly drink this beer in 15 minutes. I glanced outside and the rain was suddenly gone, the winds calm and I thought, “oh shit, the tornado is really coming,” and suddenly my mouth was happy with the flavor and the bitterness faded into maltiness that made me think that I just needed more, so I drank more.

By the by, the tornado got to us earlier than expected, and at about 5:55, we were hanging out in the bathtub, my kid with his laptop, me with my Founders.  Both enjoying our favorite things, just in case this was the end. After all, I’m on the top floor of my apartment building, so if the tornado was really coming here we were likely goners anyway.

Earlier, my son had asked me if he was taking cover in the bathtub and the entire building started shaking, what should he do. Because I am a parent based in realism, I answered, “Well, you start screaming. That’s all you can do.” For shits and giggles, when the wind was at its peak and we were sitting in the tub, I said, “Let’s scream. Just once.” So, we did. I finished that beer before leaving that bathtub and life returned to normal at about 6:10.

The tornado may not have touched down, but we had great mother-son bonding time, especially since he had just shit in that bathroom moments before we had to go in. This is my life.

Posted in Life

Trying to Learn, Learning to Try

Setting out on a year-long journey is never an easy task. You have all of these hopes & dreams along with a few fears. Will I be able to learn something new every day for a year? What if I don’t feel well?   What if I can’t think of anything new to try? What if I get swallowed up by a sink hole and can’t write about my experiences? Who will know where to find me? Who will keep my sex toys from being discovered by my family when they come to clean out my apartment? Come on now, this is going to be fun!



This one was kind of difficult yesterday. Not because I don’t have a natural love of learning, or because I was disinterested in things around me. No, it was difficult because it was my birthday and I spent a lot of the day working, interacting with my friends on FaceBook and Twitter, having dinner with my son, helping with homework and getting things ready for the next day. So, when I climbed into the bathtub to enjoy a bubble bath on my big day, I grabbed my phone and actually thought, “what would I like to learn today?”
I couldn’t think of much until I started to shave my legs. Yes, single women who are not in any danger of having sex still shave their legs. It’s the other pieces they may neglect with a razor. So, I get through all of the shaving and as I’m washing my leg, I notice a spot that I missed. I pull it out of the water to clean up that one tiny place and I notice that suddenly, my entire leg is prickly again. SIGH All of that work, for what? And then it hits me. I now have to know: after shaving your legs, how on Earth does the hair start to grow back that quickly? In fact, every time I get a chill, I’m pretty sure that shit starts to grow immediately. It’s like one side of my brain has sent a message to my hair follicles that says, “This is it, ladies! A deep freeze is coming, so get your asses out there and protect that skin!” The other side is screaming, “Retreat! Retreat! She might get laid tonight! She needs that to be soft and smooth!”


When we get cold, we can get goosebumps, which are “caused by a contraction of miniature muscles that are attached to each hair. Each contracting muscle creates a shallow depression on the skin surface, which causes the surrounding area to protrude. The contraction also causes the hair to stand up whenever the body feels cold.” – from Scientific American ( We inherited this phenomenon from our animal ancestors who needed it to help keep them warm with their built in fur coat AND to make themselves look bigger when threatened.


So, you’re in the warm water, which causes your skin to actually puff up a little bit, hiding the base of your hair follicle so you can’t possibly shave it off. Then you get out, that cool air hits you, BOOM – your skin goes back to normal, exposing that hair, goosebumps make it stand up and now you’ve got a 5 o’clock shadow on your legs, which is more like a 5 minute shadow, if we’re being honest.  Let’s hope the date has had enough to drink or doesn’t mind that you can deftly scratch his back without using your hands or your teeth.

What I learned wasn’t really about goosebumps or hair growth or animals, but that the proper way to shave and maintain that smoothness for a little bit is a combination of cooler water and a matching air temperature until you can put on something to keep you warm. And I was always taught to soak in a hot bath before shaving to soften the hair follicle. Liars.




(Incidentally – if you go for the Google image search and type in “trying something new”, be sure that safe filter is on, otherwise you’re going to be looking at pictures of anal penetration with dicks, feet, arms, a slotted spoon and a rolling pin.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

I love cheesecake. I could eat it as a meal, every meal, and die a happy woman. But I know as I’m getting older and that old metabolism starts slowing a bit, that if I eat all of the cheesecake all of the time, I’m going to need to invest in a whole lot of new pants. It should be noted that I hate pants. But I digress.


I decided that I would go with the “all things in moderation” theory. I decided I would try to eat only half of the piece of the double chocolate cheesecake that I bought for myself. I knew if I cut the piece in half and put half directly in the freezer, I’d likely have a better chance at succeeding. Then I reminded myself that trying sometimes involves failing, and wasn’t the point of this trying business just to see if I could do it?
So, I put the cake on my plate, walked out to the living room and…I ate that entire piece of cheesecake in under 5 minutes because it was oh my god slap your grandmother amazing. It was then that I realized that even failure tastes like pure goodness at times and I wished I had another piece.


I should note here that I had also tried mustard on a hot dog yesterday and that didn’t go well either. I’m not a fan of mustard to begin with and I really love hot dogs so I tried to marry the two. It was worse than when I tried to date that one guy who said he was 5’11” and turned out to be about 5’3” (shorter than me) and spent the entire brunch talking about his ex-girlfriend who was hit and killed by a semi. “Her name was XXXX and you can look this up online if you don’t believe me. Did I mention that I used to be a raging alcoholic and probably shouldn’t be drinking these mimosas right now?” I kept looking for a way out of the date, much like I was looking for extra napkins to wipe the mustard off of my hot dog. Some things just don’t mix.

Today, I haven’t decided what to learn yet, but I know I’m going to try a new beer tonight. Not sure what they’ll have on tap up at the Kroger Bar, but I’ll pick something I’ve never had before. Onwards and upwards (Harder! Faster! THAT’S IT! RIGHT THERE! OHGODYESYESYESYEEEESSSSS!)