My apologies...

I had a nasty comment...that much you gathered. One day, I will tell you my story, but it won't be for a while.

I'm writing two books.

One is funny stories of my life. The other is a little more intense, but a story worth telling.

Right now, I lay in a crossroads. Unfortunately, it's not one that can be resolved over a cup of tea, or a shot of vodka.

Some of us are lucky enough to either be happy with a perfect life, while most of us lie in wait for the other shoe to drop.

This is where I sit.

But keep faith. Life is cyclical. What you do comes back to you. Do the right thing and in the end it all comes out in the wash. Maybe it's not what you expected, but most blessings are disguised.

Much love...

Again, let me re-state my position...

Well, once again, I got a nasty message from someone clearly insane, who wanted to attack me and my family. Since they AGAIN posted as anonymous, I can't respond to them individually. But I just wanted to say to them that they have no facts, and that they can feel free to go screw themselves.
I feel sorry for them that they have no life, other than to read my blog only to fuel their nastiness and hate.

I've decided....(it will never end)

...that I will continue my trend of buying my own Christmas presents this year. It prevents a morning full of guilt for wanting to choke out your husband because after X amount of years, he still doesn't know you at all.

...that boxed wine, contrary to some new opinions from wine enthusiasts, still tastes like urine. Or what I imagine urine would taste like. I will stick to the stuff that has a cork.

...that there are a lot of people who care too much about the Kardashians. Did any of you REALLY think it was going to work any more than Kim Zolciak's marriage will? The guys are normal. They don't stand a chance with those chicks.

...that I will never stop trying stupid things just to see if I can do them. This includes a high kick, beat-boxing, and trying to rap all the words in Gangsta's Paradise.

...Newt Gingrich? Really? This is the best hope of the white world? If that's the route we are going, I recommend just letting people tweet in their budget plans to Bravo, and then Andy Cohen can hold a texting vote. If you wanted Bill Clinton impeached for being adulterous, then you really can't nominate this dude.

...cats are Satan's minions. They hold grudges and exact revenge while you are sleeping. I admire, yet loathe it. Smarter than kids are.

...starting an impromptu sing-along in real life is not as easy as it appears on tv. Having no one else join in and having to awkwardly fade off in to silence is an experience I could've lived without. I misread a moment.

The Case of the Missing Sex Drive.

So, pretty much every married woman I know who is not a newlywed is not happy with their sex life. In fact, we pool ideas on how to creatively avoid it. But what I want to know is why?

Most of us still want it. But do we really want it with our husbands?

Sometimes they get so close, and then say one dumb thing, and I can almost watch my hormones fly out the door. The moment is gone.

Or they want it during prime time television hours.

So what do we do to fix this before we get to the age where it may not be an option anymore, due to ED, which is on the horizon for anyone married to someone over 40.

What are some suggestions to keep the fires lit?

When you're a mother, Friday night are not as fun.

Now that my kids are older, I can be sure that one of them will be gone every weekend at a sleepover. The downside is that the other kid is somewhat of a loner, and I highly encourage him to start making friends so that I actually get a Friday or Saturday night that doesn't involve me having a sad glass, (okay, bottle) of wine in my sweatpants with my snoring husband next to me.

When you get married at 19, and have two kids by 21, you tend to miss out on ridiculousness.

Now, at 32, I am ready to partake, but I missed the boat. Now I have to wait until my friends hit their 50s until they are child free and ready to regress back to doing fun things for the hell of it.

I can really only handle so many reruns.

I need to put on a sexy dress while I still have halfway decent cleavage and shake my butt on a dance floor. But it's kind of hard when almost everyone you know is expecting.

I've found that you have to plan midlife crisis for a time when there are others in your boat. Unfortunately, this is not that time. It's a lot harder to convince someone to pull an all nighter when they are plagued by the idea of being woken up at 6 am by a hungry toddler.

I've felt your pain, but take solace in the fact that it won't be long before they are functioning little beings. One day you WILL sleep again.

Next stop...world domination!

As part of my therapy:), I am making future goals so that I begin to look past the current crap and the crap that is clouding my immediate future.

I guess they do this so you don't lose all hope and off yourself when life seems to be handing you a steady stream of lemons.

So my pet project is to decide what I want to do with my life seven years from now, when my boys are off in college.

My answer: Experience the damn world!

So my husband and I each took our BIG book of all the countries in the world (yes, we have one of these) and we each made our own lists of places we may want to live for a year. Then, we combined matches and reevaluated each others unmatched choices to compile the final list, which is now sorted by region.

The plan, is to live in a new country each year for about ten years, and travel to surrounding countries during that time. Of course, we will sprinkle in some jaunts home, but since will have the ability to retire by 40...we might as well make the most of the free time we will have.

The great part about it is that we can immerse ourselves in to different cultures and gain some insight on life outside of the US.

I finally have a focal point to set my sights on!

Lack of interesting FB status has encouraged me to blog more.

I'm bored.

I'm suffering from lack of sleep, due to my husband kicking around all night. I almost murdered him this morning. He got a new phone, and with it, a horrid alarm ringtone that softly sings, "Good morning, good morning." Then loudly blasts "BA BA BA BA BA BA, GOOD MORNING!"

That mother effer kept hitting the snooze!!!

Now, I am not a morning person. At all. But I hate to be woken up cheerfully worse than anything else, bc it is NOT cheerful!

So I sleep best when he is gone during the mornings and get up at lunch time. But it leaves me in a quandary at night, when I am wide awake at midnight with no one to talk to.

So that's why I've been blogging more at night, even when I really have nothing to blog about.

Pearl Harbor Day...the difference between then and now.

Today is a day largely remembered as when our country entered WWII. All the major wars until Desert Storm required a sense of self-sacrifice from not only the soldiers, but the rest of the country.

There was rationing, women having to take over factory jobs to fill in for the men that were sent overseas, and there was a draft.

These wars we have been fighting for ten years has been a much different story.

People want to pretend that they support the troops, but do they? What have you sacrificed for the Iraq and Afghanistan war efforts?

Do you know that this is the longest war in history? Do you realize these soldiers come home after it has been drilled in to their heads that the enemy could be anyone?

My husband can't drive anymore. Not safely. Anytime he sees a suspicious package alongside the road, he begins to have panic attacks. A blown out tire is even worse, since he was almost killed by one that he picked up, and attached was an IED and grenade. It started to activate, and he ran with it, to spare the lives of his men. It stopped one click from detonating.

Unless you live with a soldier, or have one as a child, you understand how frustrating it is to listen to people with their petty problems, while you wait by the phone for a year at a time, hoping you won't get a bad call. You take your cell phone to the toilet with you, in fear you will miss a chance to hear their voice. You have been on the phone with them when the line goes dead after hearing explosions, and don't know what just happened.

These soldiers in today's military deploy at a rapid pace. I know many who have deployed five times, every other year. How do you bond with your children when you miss half their lives?

I am just saying that take the time out of your day EVERY day to thank a veteran or a soldier. And don't forget their families, for the heartbreaking trials they also endure in support of our country...so you can sleep safely in your bed.

When you are sexy enough, you can admit to being a dork about some things...

I spent my entire weekend watching all 8 Harry Potter movies, even though I had seen all but the last one.

Why did this occur?

Because my sons and husband didn't listen to over the last ten years and watch them before, so in order for me to feel completed with an ending, I was forced to start them over.

That's a lot of wizardry to take in.

My husband finds it highly amusing that I keep tabs on a blog with details about The Hobbit prequel that is in production. And I also have actual artist productions of a full sized Yoda and Chewy head.

I don't have to apologize for the fact I love Lord of The Rings and Star Wars.

I paid my dues as a dork when I was a young kid, getting teased for being flat-chested and having a mullet.

Now I am old enough to embrace the side of me that loves expensive purses and accessories, yet can still appreciate real paper books, not this Kindle crap.

Despite my nerdish obsessions, I am a very well rounded individual who can hold an intelligent conversation on world events, politics and religion, but I am confident enough to be able to make ridiculous jokes, even if they are at my expense.

One of my sons is a dork, and I love it. One day, he will be a very rich man who all the popular kids will end up working for. He is not afraid to be who he is, and for an almost 13 year old, that's pretty damn impressive.

So get out there and let that inner dork out, and own it!

Army life, Army wife...not for long!

Well, we have officially moved in to the MEB process of being medically retired from the army.

It fucken sucks.

It seems that paperwork is the army's kryptonite. They can't put things together And use simple time management skills unless it involves guns or large machinery.

The horrible part is trying to deal with the disjointed medical staff, who don't really care about the soldiers they are out processing. I'm sure the tables will turn if they ever have to experience waiting for a year with no job to do, in order to find out if someone screwed them over by leaving something out of the medical records.

I highly advise all spouses to be directly involved with their soldiers MEB and PEB processing, as well as all the ACAP meetings. Your husband will miss 70% of the info given, and then come home and leave it out.

I would also like to say that while there are plenty of pogues who use mental disorders to get out, there are soldiers who desperately need the help, and it's time to stop treating them like they are less of a man because they sought treatment. Do it before it ruins your life, because at some point, it WILL catch up with you.

First and foremost, put your health and your family first, because you will need their love and support when making a transition like this.

If any of you have questions about the process, feel free to email me.
Ive got your back!

Positive reinforcement is the spice of life....

Last night, my husband deserved sex.

No, it wasn't his birthday or anything. That would be obligatory sex, which I loathe. I just don't agree with having sex because it's expected.

But I do believe it's best used as a reward for good behavior, especially when the behavior was just to be nice, and not to get sex.

What did he do that he was blessed with such a gift?

He moved out of the closet.

That's right...he gave up his half of the walk-in, so that I can spread my clothes out, organize them by sleeve length and then color, and see all my shoes instead of keeping them in a Rubbermaid tote. I also have plans to hang hooks for all my purses!

So yes, sex was an appropriate response when "thank you" just doesn't seem like quite enough. In fact, he may get it again tonight.

Otis Tit-Sling and other Christmas gift ideas that need rethinking

Last week, my sister mentioned how she really wanted a Pandora bracelet as a gift from her husband for Christmas.

Personally, I can't think of something more horrid.

It kills me when I look on Facebook, and all you see are people who post the most perfect pictures. Joyous family vacations to Disney World, and smiling faces around the Christmas tree in matching sweaters. Their status is always cheery, and they post passive-aggressive put-downs on any of your negative statements, trying to lead you to believe their lives are all roses.

Well, flowers need shit to bloom, so I call bullshit on their perfect lives.

What you don't have pictures of, are the things you REALLY remember, like how the cat chewed through one string of lights on your pre-lit tree, or how you told your husband that if he didn't get in atleast one picture with Mickey Mouse, he wouldn't get oral sex for a year.

These are the moments that need commemorating.

That's why I think Pandora bracelets, as well as any charm bracelets are stupid. Besides the day your kids are born, you get married and there is a graduation, what the hell would be a reason to buy a new charm? They don't sell charms for the real memories...

"This one is for the day we forgot to pick up Taylor from school, and he sat in the rain for 3 hours until we remembered."

"And this one is the time we had to take Gavin to the hospital because he had a rock stuck up his nose and we couldn't get it out."

"Oh!! See this charm that looks like a clump of dogshit? Thats the day after we got the carpets professionally cleaned and then the dog had rampant diarrhea all over the house."

I was also perusing the Victoria's Secret catalog and found that they sell a product called, "The racy, lacy sling."

It's basically a sling that you wear WITH a bra (because they aren't uncomfortable enough on their own, and you need something else digging in to your back fat) and it's supposed to hold your boobs up even higher.

This was obviously designed by a delusional man, who was thinking, "Ya know, if a bra doesn't do it on it's own, maybe we can create something to temporarily rig them up there."

Ladies, if a bra doesn't do it, a sling probably won't help either. Because what IS a bra, but a tit sling?

I am grateful sometimes that VS doesn't sell many of their products in larger sizes, because, to be fair, I forget that I am a "curvier" woman, and I don't really look like a VS model in person, so the lingerie would not look the same on me as it does on Rosie Huntington-Whitely. I have inconvenient bumps, also known as love handles. Men don't always consider this either, when buying lingerie for their wives, which usually results in bouts of tears, self-loathing and an entire pan of brownies to calm them down when what they bought in a size 2 doesn't fit you.

So, if you are going to buy your wife a nice present for the holidays, make sure and ask her several options of what she would like to have, and be sure she includes sizes!

This year, I am grateful for elastic-waisted pants and that tunics are in style.

Today is the holiday that would be represent me, if I had to choose.

Not because I am thankful, but because we get to eat enough to feed a small impoverished nation and then nap with our pants undone.

Haha.

Actually, I think that this year, I may be more thankful than any other year of my life, in spite of the fact it has been the most difficult year of my life. I am thankful that I live each day knowing the extent of my own strength. I am thankful that I know who my true friends are, and that I no longer have to waste my time and energy on the posers. I am thankful that I know what it is like to have my love tested, and know it is strong enough to overcome fear and insecurity. I am thankful for the happiness that those who are close to me have experienced this year, with marriages and births. I am thankful for my extended family, who have given me a place to lay my head when it is troubled, and feel safe and protected in my darkest hours. I am thankful that no matter the tests in relationships, that I have the opportunity to work through them.

I hope that you all have a great day today, and good eating!!!

Children are appreciated most when they are fully returnable...

No receipt required.

I became an aunt on my side of the family on 11/11/11 to a beautiful little peanut! I spent a lovely four days in the hospital with my sister, sleep at a minimum.

For me, too.

But that's okay, because I love my niece and because I will give her back to her mother when I go home, where my children are old enough to get up on their own AND even make me breakfast!

They are well-trained, but it took a good 13 years.

I had so much fun being my sisters labor Sherpa, that I decided to go visit my best friend and her adorable children. Meanwhile, it's been almost two weeks since I have even TALKED to my own children, and they don't seem to have noticed I am gone.

So where does this leave me?

On vacation.

Even though I am no where fun, no where warm and sunny, not sleeping in and surrounded by small children...it's not upstate NY and it's not my responsibility to do anything. I simply do it because I want to, rather than because I have to. It makes a huge difference. I feel happy and relaxed.

Friends and family make all the difference in life.

"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator. But among those whom I love, I can: All of them make me laugh."
-W.H. Auden

Everyone goes through trauma in their lives, be it the loss of a loved one or an unexpected crisis. During these times, you don't know how you will ever see the sun again, since your world is filled with gloom.

Six months ago, my entire world literally crashed down on me. Not that it had been perfect before the incident, but like most people, I had though in the weeks before it happened that I was already at the limit for my stress level. When life kicks you in the gut, it's an overwhelming urge to give up. But even during those first dark days, I could laugh at the horror and irony of the timing and the situation. See, I thought I was already IN the difficult part, and I was literally one day away from what I thought would solve all my problems. The truth is, that when I look back at all the stress I had, it was meaningless compared to what I had to endure. And then I looked at my situation, and realized that the majority of the world was still worse off than me.

The first time I was able to laugh through my tears was a breakthrough and moment of self-actualization that I would be okay.

In our darkest moments, we find out quickly and harshly who is in our life for the right reasons. Not because they hope to gain something from you, but because they genuinely love you.
This is the most powerful thing.

I find myself financially strapped at times, and then still find ways to make ends meet. I have money for an emergency. But then I see a man outside Walmart, ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. He was dressed in shabby clothing, looking homeless himself, freezing in the cold to raise money for others who are like him, or worse off. I put the item I was going to buy back on the shelf. A candle, that cost $12. I took the money, and gave it to the man, but I also took him a warm cup of coffee.

We always want more for ourselves. But maybe if we gave a little more of what we do have, it will brighten someones day.

And sometimes the grateful smile of a stranger is all it takes to give you the warm feeling inside that can undo some of life's wrongs.

There are two types of people in this world...

Okay, perhaps we are more complex than just two types...

But there are people who have immediate reactions, and make choices based on limited info, and there are those to take time to think things through before reacting.

I am an info gatherer. I don't like to be wrong, so I like to be pretty sure about my choices before I really screw something up.

Once you do something, you can't undo it. There are no do-overs and often, no guarantees. So we all just do our best to keep our heads above water in life and not be drowned by whatever waves crash over us.

Still, you have tough decisions to make. Not just that affect your life, but those around you. What do you do when you have a tough choice to make? Poll your friends? Get a consensus? Go with your gut?

These are all good, but sometimes you have to make a choice and you aren't sure you can't second-guess it. Because no one likes paying the penalties for a misplay.

But at the end of the day, we are just trying to get through life on an uneven playing field, and you have to make the choices that you can live with. There will be casualties along the way, and hopefully they are minimal, but I believe if you go with your gut 99% of the time, your odds are better of making your life what it is meant to be.

Having relationships is not easy. You have some hard moments to deal with. But be true to your values and your integrity. You may piss some people off, but if they are worth the sleep you lose over them, they will understand you didn't have an easy choice to make, and respect your strength for doing it.

Change is never easy, but it is possible.

If I've learned anything in my 32 years, it's that like is not static.

There will be good cycles and bad. Sometime they are rolled together. When they suck, it's easy to only be overwhelmed by the negative forces at play. And they are powerful, sucking the life and soul out of you.

I'm the kind of person who doesn't wish bad upon anyone, because I know we all have enough that comes our way uncoerced. But I do believe in being an honest person. It's not easy to tell someone bad news, because you risk them being in such denial and the inability to cope makes you automatically defensive.

I've learned a lot lately, that to be yourself and take a stand on what you believe in takes courage that most people find hard to do. They are afraid of what they don't know, and are afraid of taking heat for it. But if we continue to sit back and watch things unravel for others, and don't step in, whether it's out business or not, then we all fall victim to apathy.

"it's not my problem". "one person can't change things."

Instead of the extremist political groups doing good, they fail to realize that without moderation and mediation, there is no way for either side to win. The more you divide yourself, the less you accomplish.

No one wants to talk politics. It's taboo. Don't want to get in a debate over issues.

Well, how do you expect to solve problems, then? Be able to sit down with someone you disagree with and let's start talking...not about what view is right or wrong, but how we can meet in the middle.

If you saw someone being physically hurt in a domestic dispute, would you step in?

Why is the future of our country any different? If you believe nothing will change, how can you make a conscious effort to have children, born in to a country with such chaos and dissension? These issues will be dropped in to your lap.

Let's start seeing political official sit down in roundtable discussion with members of all parties instead of debating each other with the same canned promises and taglines. Let's have them talk to us, see how we feel, and start acting as a united nation, held together by more than a constitution. Let's demand real answers. Let's forget Occupy Wall Street and Tea party, and come back to the stance that rich or poor, democratic or republican, we are damn mad about the way that big business dictates policy in our country.

This is the time to stand up and say, I am mad as hell at our whole governmental system, and I am not going to take it anymore.

And let's try one more thing, yet unexplored in politics....honesty.

My new profession? Web MD

I swear, I have been sick for a month. It's getting to be annoying as hell.

After consulting various Internet sites, I am diagnosing myself with Mono. Why don't I just go to the DR? Because it's a long drive and I already have daily Med board appointments with my husband, so the last thing I feel like doing is going to another one. Especially if it's Mono, since they cant treat it since it's a virus.

It's bullshit.

I find myself with small bursts of energy and then ready to collapse. I was ready to sleep at 6pm tonight, and now that's it's midnight, I am wide awake.

I need more friends on the west coast, so that I can call them when everyone else is sleeping.

I watched a show on MSNBC about 2012 theories last night. While I think most people are insane, I can't shake the feeling that I should be building an underground bunker, just in case. But with a pricetag of $10k per person, the sad fact is that if the shit hits the fan, us non-millionaires will bite it.

Just a random, midnight thought. I guess it's not the beat time to blog!

I am so ready to move back to PA next year. It will be wonderful to have good friends and family closeby, especially with all the babies sprouting up like cabbage patch kids. So many people still adding to their families or just starting them in their 30s, while mine become teenagers. It's an epidemic. And pregnant people like to recruit you to their cause.

I find babies cute, but I like sleep more. I served my time dealing with a good 6 years of no sleep, and am not anxious to relive those days. Motherhood is hard. Now the bullets I have to dodge are teenage pregnancy and drugs. I do laugh, though, when the first time mothers tell me they are using cloth diapers, going to try labor with no epidural and do it on their own. Some things just can't be explained. You have to live and learn. I learn something new about my kids every day...somethings that I dont want to know! But glad they will talk to me.

It's going to be an interesting year ahead...full of rebirth and new starts.

I've decided.....some more...

...that Starbucks baristas are horribly condescending. No matter how I order it, they always rearrange what I call my beverage to make me feel inferior in my knowledge of coffee beverages. They know I need what they have, much like a crack dealer, so I have to suck it up for my over-priced fix.

...that when my children wanted to still trick or treat in middle school, I can use first choice in pilfering their candy in order to provide costumes.

...not working allows me to spend more time going through my kids text messages, and reading the dumb things they talk about. I am losing hope for their generation from a complete lack of proper grammar.

...that when viewing the state of our economy, socialism may not be a bad way to go for most of us who are not in the top 10% income bracket. I wonder what all the rich people's children will do when they can no longer utilize Planned Parenthood for birth control, since their conservative parents don't believe in it.

...that our obligations as human beings should come before political agendas.

...every dark cloud does have a silver lining. But sometimes the sun isn't shining through when it first appears.

...that microwaveable slippers are warm and toasty, but are damn hard to walk in.

...punching bags would be a more satisfying way to take out aggression if they said "ouch!" when you hit them.

...that you should never be afraid to be who you are.

...that Twilight wasn't a life-changing movie, but I did learn that everyone in the Pacific Northwest is really pale.

...if it weren't for appearances, everyone would live in elastic waisted pants. Why would you ever go back to being tethered in to jeans?

Last night, I made poor choices.

Actually, they weren't too bad, but sometimes I miss making poor choices.

They are always the most fun.

I don't know if it was from the new heating blanket I just acquired, or what...but I passed out cold twice this morning. Like, let the dogs out and woke up on the floor, wondering how I had gotten there. Then I went in to the bathroom, and did the same thing!

Then I crawled until I got to bed, and went back to sleep.

I wasn't taking anymore chances. I've only fainted once before, and I was like, ten, and had just ripped open my finger at cheerleading practice. So it's definitely odd.

I feel like my post are blah lately, and I don't know what to say other than, it's because my life is boring as fuck. Or, not so much boring as "not amusing". Going to daily dr appointments is boring as fuck. Not a whole lotta laughs going on, ya know? Right now, other than that, I'm pretty much on call, waiting for my sister to text me and tell me that the baby is coming so that I can drive down to PA and make it in time for birth. I am so ready for her to get this kid out, because I can't take any more pictures of her swollen feet.

Seriously. Its like they are stretched to maximum capacity. I once weighed 255 lbs, and my feet never looked that fat. She is tiny. They are so terrifying, I show my kids as punishment for things. "Sit and stare and Aunt Laura's nasty feet and hands. That should teach you to interrupt math class."

I swear, I am running out of things to respond to his teacher with. After the first three times I've told her, "he will be dealt with accordingly" and then he keeps showing off in class, it loses it's threatening appeal. Today, I just gave up, and told her to send him to the principals office. I mean, dude, I'm grounding this child, which means I am stuck with him and therefore punished too, and I'm making him do extra chores and look at his Aunts water retention.

I'm sick of being grounded. The best thing about Halloween is that they will go trick or treat for a few hours and I can eat the two bags of Reeces Peanut Butter cups that I bought to "hand out to the kids."

What would've happened if I had changed one small thing?

With all the changes in my life, I've had a lot of strange dreams. I've also spent a ridiculous amount of time on Facebook, trying to locate a few people I used to know, and have always wondered what happened to them.

Like this guy my first year of college.

The minute I saw him, I was instantly attracted, and we got along like peas and carrots. We had a good chemistry too...like magnets. The downside was that he was still dating his high school girlfriend. I thought that it would be a matter of time before he realized that we were a better fit, but before that happened, I joined the Army Reserves, and after a week with no sleep because I was pledging a sorority, I was sick as a dog, and I had a huge fight with my parents, and just never went back to school. It sounds ridiculous now, but my parents actually came to my dorm in the middle of the night because I hung up on them (they lived two hours away), and I was humiliated. The stress of the sorority, making my drill weekend, and being exhausted just made me break. I was also to the point where I felt like I wasn't really clicking with anyone like my high school friends, and I had gone a little wild while I was there. So I felt like people had the wrong picture.

Anyway...

When I left school, I also left behind the chance to stay in touch with the dude. Imagine my surprise, when I find out he is living the life I had planned for myself. Would he remember me? Does anyone ever think about me and wonder what I ended up doing?

I'm not saying I regret the life I've had, but I wish I could have a dream where I could just see what would've happened if I hadn't joined the army, which was the day I met my current husband. I just want to see what would've happened, because that one decision changed the course of events of my life. I want to see if I made the right choice, because right now, I'm left unsure. My sons are the only reason I can justify the last 14 years of my life, and I'm determined that the next 14 won't be me giving up what I want to accomplish for someone else.

You know it's bad when your kid asks why you dressed up when you put on jeans.

So, I haven't been working the past 3 months. Since it's unemployment by choice, I refer to it as a hiatus with possible retirement. Other than getting my sons on the school bus, or attending appointments with my husband, the day is mine to waste...often resulting in sleep or gabbing on the phone.

I'm pretty much a lazy ass. A poorly, yet comfortable lazy ass.

My hair is naturally curly, so when I have nowhere important to go, I wash it and put it up wet. When it dries, I have a mane to rival the Lion King. It's quite disturbing. And I look scary. Top it off with no makeup, yoga pants, and the zit that appeared on my chin, and you have yourself a hot mess.

I hadn't really thought about it much until this weekend when my sons friends spent the night and we were becoming Facebook friends. I thought it was cute they wanted to be my friend, until they saw my profile picture and said, "who is that?" (The picture was taken 3 weeks ago)

It was then that I realized how infrequently I look like I am prepared to take visitors lately. Well, that and when Gavin asked about the jeans. Anytime I leave the house and come back home, the first thing I do is take off my bra and put on comfy pants....so fast, you would think they were burning me! I guess I should make an effort a little more often.

On another note...

How long do you stay friends with someone on Facebook if they are no longer speaking to you? I don't know the etiquette for that. There was no fight or anything, just a complete lack of response to any phone calls, texts or IMs that I send. I pretty much take that to mean they aren't interested anymore.

I don't want to cut them off as a friend if they are going to miraculously respond one day, but it just pisses me off even more when I see them comment to everyone BUT me. I just don't feel like looking at it if I am not a part of their life anymore because it hurts. I don't know...any thoughts?

My inbox is full of empty promises...

I rarely get emails anymore, and when I do, most of them are junk.

In fact, my spam box gets more mail than my inbox, even with the unsolicited offers. Most of them, I ignore, but once in a while, they suck you in.

I keep getting offers for the Honeybaked Ham store, which we don't have within a three hour radius. (I know...I checked because I was willing to put some effort and mileage into the retrieval of one.) As a Lancaster County, PA girl, we are brought up with a certain expectation and attachment to HAM, that the rest of the country doesn't seem to have. Sure, you have your barbecues, and your bacon, buy do you REALLY cherish the HAM?

We also have such a thing called hamloaf. I don't want to think about how it's made, but it's delicious. Kind of like Spam, but better.

I also get coupons from Boston Market, another fine place I have no access to, as well as Red Robin. I can't deal with national marketing campaigns that lure in those lucky enough to live closeby, and torture us who have only a tremble in our tastebuds.

I hate upstate NY.

A mouthful of Fiji

I have been sick for about 3 weeks now. It's a cough, but nothing else...most likely indicative of tuberculosis or pneumonia...but I keep on trucking without the dr. It's not that I'm opposed to it, but I am feeling really lazy and I have so many appointments as it is.

Then today, I wake up, unable to stop coughing. So now I sit on my bathroom floor, inhaling steam from my shower whilst blogging.

What else am I supposed to do?

Anyway,

I love scents that smell like the beach. Lime and coconut, cucumber melon...anything fresh and clean. I guess Andy picked up on this, at SOME point in the 14 years we've been together, and yesterday, came home with a new deodorant for himself, which he proceeded to shove excitedly under my nose. I hesitated, since usually when any of the three boys in my house look THAT excited about something and it is followed by "smell that", it doesn't end well for me.

But, lo and behold, Old Spice granted us with a new mens deodorant called "Fiji".

I must admit, it did take me away to the islands for a minute. Smelled really good. So later on last night, as Andy was rubbing his minty fresh Ben-Gay (old dude cream) on his knees, stinking up our room like a geriatric facility, I decided I needed a break from it, and stuck my nose in his armpit to see how could his new deodorant smelled on. Turns out, even better when it's ON a man!

But then I made my fatal mistake of gently biting the side of his chest affectionately, and was rewarded with a mouthful of Fiji, to which I promptly starting spitting and wiping my tongue off. Who puts deodorant that far down?!! I almost had to pour a can of tomato soup in my mouth to diffuse the taste, as if I was sprayed by a skunk!

Let's just say that the next step for beauty product manufacturers, is to crank out products that taste good if you mistakenly happen to lick them. Which, I never will again.

If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium.

So, I know, I've been a bad blogger lately, and your life wasn't the same without my witty commentary while you ate eating your second breakfast/pretending to be working.

I feel ya.

I had some recuperating to do (depressive sleeping & watching DVR'd LMN) but I think I am back now. In the meantime, I had some funny comments posted to my blog in response to my blog post, "Taylor Swift is a ho." Apparently, they were either super mega fans of hers who want to wear her skin as a dress, or it was Taylor's publicist. I'm pretty sure it wasn't Taylor herself, because I don't think she can spell half the words that were in there. Either way, I was firmly told that I am a mean and hateful person due to the fact I am an ARMY WIFE.

Yes, it was written in big, accusing letters like that. Because ARMY WIVES are notoriously known for our lack of class, candor, and general likability when it comes to Taylor Swift. In fact, when you marry a soldier of any kind, we are issued handbooks on how to make fun of calf-like celebrities who pretend to be innocent and formerly poor and geeky, when they were actually one of the "mean girls".

Am I mocking "anonymous" who left the scathing comment, so fueled by their ethical desire to stand up for dear old TS, yet not so passionately enough to mark their name to it? Yes. I am. Stop taking life so seriously, and take things for what they are...funny. If you had signed your name to the comment, I would've posted it.

In other news, I was in Las Vegas over the weekend for one of my bestest friends wedding. I was told by a friend after posting the pics on my facebook, that I resembled a thinner Adele. The sad fact is that Adele is probably thinner than me. But it was a compliment because I love her voice.

I had to get a spray tan for the wedding, due to the fact my pale vanilla complexion would've been offensive in the short, strapless dress I had to wear, and I would've had to go to a tanning bed every day for a year to achieve the next shade darker of foundation. Foolishly, I went for a medium color, all the while envisioning a caramel complected version of myself, complete with shiny, silky looking legs that tan people always seem to have.

What I ended up with, was a face that was 8 shades darker than the rest of my body. So dark, that in a dimly-lit room, all that was visable was my teeth and eyeballs. So dark, that my friends husband was unable to take a picture of me, because the face-finder on the camera couldn't locate my face. So dark, that it turned the sides of my chin ashy, sort of like a five-o-clock shadow that I could most comparatively liken it to "Deena" on the Jersey Shore.

(Here, I would like to note that I am making fun of Deena because I am an ARMY WIFE.)

The disgusting part of the spray tan, is that it has halfway worn off now, but even with body scrub, hasn't come completely off, so I just look dirty around my hands and feet. Like I have rolled around in topsoil. My face has lightened from Eddie Murphys brother to a more beachy George Hamilton. Which is 18 shades darker than my original skin color, and 12 shades darker than my chest.

Not that I hate spray tans. I hate all tans, because I can't achieve one that looks natural and glowy. And because I am an ARMY WIFE.

My hair smells like a summer breeze

I finally got my butt up and left the house for something other than therapy or food.

After a year of not having the time, I went and got my hair trimmed and highlighted. With all the stress the past five months, I had started to lose a lot of hair. Luckily, I have a ton of hair, but it was alarming anyway. I had gone to bed the night before with a wet head, so when I took my hair down at the spa, it unleashed a massive Afro. I was mildly disappointed there were no other customers in the room, because usually it illicits a gasp from someone.

Four hours later, I walked out the door with silky, smooth spun gold cascading down my shoulders. It inspired me to take a picture for my facebook page, where I gave my best thug look. When I got home, my kids asked what happened to me. It made me feel really great (ha) since I have been wearing sweats, had my hair in a ponytail, and worn no makeup for over a month now. I call it my depression gear.

Luckily, I am going to Vegas next weekend for a wedding, so I will have to spruce up since there will be other people around to see what I look like. I fear the day when all phone are video phones. I usually look my worst when I am on the phone, and hey, sometimes, I go to the bathroom while I am talking.

That could make for uncomfortable conversation.

Chapter 328: In which I dream I was a character in a Tyler Perry movie

I've been watching a lot of BET lately. I've also enjoyed the Tyler Perry movie selections available on pay per view.

Black families are hilarious, and far more entertaining than any family event I have ever attended. They are not afraid to whoop some sense into their kids, the neighborhoods are closer and look out for each other, and they seem like they back each other up.

I think I would enjoy church a lot more if I went to a southern baptist church, where everyone wore big hats and pastels, and they got up and danced to the gospel choir and the whole room was alive and on fire. That's real praise and worship. White people are way too afraid of themselves to be that free and uninhibited.

It's also acceptable to have curves in the world of Tyler Perry.
Have you seen Ali Lohan???? She looks like a skeleton. It's disgusting. I am a size 14 now, and I would be fine at this weight for the rest of my life. I am proportionate, curvy and sexy as hell.

I miss the warmth of the southern people and the close family atmosphere they have. It brings a piece of the south to me when I watch these movies, and makes me crave the soul feeding that the cold north is missing.

How do you hit bottom without the benefit of a fall?

I'm thinking it's a bad sign when you think you have hit rock bottom, but you can't be completely sure.

Personally, I feel completely gyped out of an actual fall from grace. Usually it implies that you have a problem. But what happens when it's not you that has the problem? Other than my brief, single life in college, where I drank like a sailor, I've been pretty responsible. I've managed to keep any irresponsible wildness out of my life. I am completely dismayed that despite making good choices, I end up starting from scratch at 32.

I may end up having to move home and live with my parents again.

I may have to start drinking heavily in order to cope with that thought, which is why I question if I have hit bottom yet. I may have a lot more crap to face.

I don't know what I expect of my life anymore. It's almost a blank slate. At 18, that's an adventure. But with two kids and a marriage that is a work in progress, it's terrifying. It's not always your choice what happens in life. Sometimes life happens to you. You can make the right choices and still be hit with a bomb that blows it all to pieces. Then you are caught in a world where you just exist for awhile, not sure where to go next. You have to mourn the losses you have suffered and figure things out.

It's a lonely place, especially when you feel like somehow you let yourself down. It's being caught between two worlds...the life you had and the life you will have again.

But I guess just as things can always get worse, they CAN get better. But it takes time to let the wounds heal, and refrain from killing the next person that tells you to take it one day at a time. I actually bought a little wooden sign that says that, and after hearing everyone push this 12 step mantra on me, I find that I want to burn it and dance on the ashes....naked.

This is the worst possible thing to say. One day at a time.

No shit. I was actually hoping to go on a bender and then sleep away four straight days.

(I actually WAS hoping this would happen, but anyway)

Today, I am not ready to make any choices. Probably not tomorrow, or next week either. I'm not living for tomorrow, but living for what will come down the road. Sometimes that's all you can do.

Sixteen hundred channels, yet nothing to watch?

It seems like every time I turn on the tv, Dick Cheney is on, taking the battery out of his heart monitor.

Is it me, or does he look like Mr. Burns, from the Simpsons?

I'm surprised he is spending all this airtime on selling his book, rather than stumping for the republican candidates. Usually, there are a few republicans who look appealing to a more moderate independent like myself, but this election, they all look batshit crazy! Which is probably why Cheney is staying far away from it.

Most disgusting, is how what appear to be ardent Christian conservatives, are so judgmental and intolerant of anything different from themselves. I find it laughable that they barely are able to conceal their oppressive mentality, while shooting off guns for Jesus and cheering for the death penalty. How does any Christian cheer for the death penalty? You can site, "an eye for an eye" but it still goes against the true spirit of Christianity.

Another teenager killed himself today...this time in NY. Another casualty of bullying... It kills me that people want to throw anti-bullying laws out before they pass, by saying they are "pro-homosexual".

Are these people fucking nuts?

Having good morals as a display of your Christianity, should not include berating and abusing other children. It's really a mixed message from parents.

I am so fed up with all the crap on tv that I am ready to take a shovel to my flat screen.

Thank God that there are new shows premiering this week, or I think I would take a shovel to my flat screen.

Does the army really put their soldiers first, or do they leave a man down?

Recently, I've done a lot of research on PTSD and traumatic brain injury, as my husband is currently in treatment for both. Through this research, I've discovered several things that I believe need to be addressed.

Did you know that as many as 30% of Iraq and Afghanistan war vets return home and are charged with crimes that are a result of Undiagnosed mental health issues? It's such a problem, that even the VA has addressed the issue by putting legal liaisons in each VA hospital to help. Different states have established a veterans court, designed to take in to account these issues as they result in crimes, as simply throwing the vets in jail is often harmful to those who already suffer from combat trauma.

The problem is, that the army often chooses to administratively or chapter the soldier out for misconduct, often times resulting in a loss of access to VA benefit, and any claim to treatment. In otherwords, they turn their back on the soldier after years of service, even with no prior misconduct, and eliminate access to treatment, even if the soldier was diagnosed while still in the military.

I'm not saying that mental health issues necessarily negates responsibility of the soldier, but it's a case by case basis. They should at least have mitigating circumstances taken in to consideration when determining fault and rehabilitation options, and even if they are imprisoned, the VA still has the capability to treat these soldiers.

I'm just saying that it's not right for these soldiers who endure years of trauma, in wars that are unprecedented in duration, to be damaged, and then left on their own to spiral put of control. They deserve medical care, and the army needs to step up and show servicemembers that they, in fact, DO put the soldiers first, rather then discard them as garbage after they are used up and worn out.

Ultimate fajita dip= 1, Keri=0

Not working brings it's challenges...like avoiding eating a bunch of crap while I am home.

So far, it's not so easy.

I want to keep the fifty pounds I lost, off permanently, and maybe lose another 50. I've found that men don't appreciate heft in a woman, although if I were a man, I would certainly prefer snuggling up to something with a little squish to it.

I look at guys who body build, and am immediately disgusted by huge muscles. Don't get me wrong, I like tone and definition. But when I see a man with huge, veiny muscles, I find myself wanting to bite them. To see how long it would take to get them to say, "ouch!"

I also want to shower them, since they think coating themselves in baby oil makes them look tougher. I would imagine it as a weakness if they were to actually fight, being all greased up. If you are going to have muscles, you should be forced to cage fight, otherwise, it's really just a waste. We should also get to see their penises, because if you have a shriveled, steroid-shrunken penis, it makes any muscles null and void.

Anyway, yesterday, I made a delectable treat that I like to call "ultimate fajita dip", which consists of a bowl filled with one part guacamole, one container of sour cream, sauteed onions and peppers, and chicken cooked in taco seasoning. Then I scoop it up and eat it with multigrain tortilla chips.

It's just about the most happy moment of my life when I eat it.

Yes....happier than my wedding day AND the birth of my children, both put together. It's like what I would imagine heaven would consist of.

Then it's followed by guilt, shame, and self-loathing...similar to a one night stand, or so I'm told it should feel like. Funny that random sex shouldn't evoke those feelings in me, yet compulsive overeating does.

2012...is the end neigh?

I love end of the world scenarios. I can't help it. Even when I watch real life stuff on tv, I secretly want to see it as bad as it gets. Like I'm watching a movie.

Then I feel guilty because I know it's really real and it's hurting people. How desensitized does tv make us?!

I think the end of life as we know it is coming. It's really just a matter of time and how. I hope, like Steve Buscemi in Armageddon, that I have a good seat for the action. My only request is that I don't drown and I die quickly. I am resigned to the fact that I will most likely be a survivor and see everyone I know perish. Why? Because God likes to fuck with me, that's why.

I'm okay with that on a grand scale. I don't question my faith, mores just ask "really? You couldn't find someone else?" but I get it. If I were God, I would be curious to see how much one person can take before they collapse. It's like a scientific experiment.

But it sucks nonetheless.

I also know that there is a reason for everything. I don't believe things are just random. There are too many ironies for that to be the case. It comforts me when things go awry.

Sometimes life is just too much...

It's amazing how much comfort my sons bring me without them even having to try. They are my own little creatures...one part me, one part Andy, and one part something special. Now that they are older, they see that even when we don't see eye to eye on things, they know their parents accept them as they are. They feel comfortable enough to discuss things with me, and I love the way their minds work. Makes me proud to have such free-thinking, independent kids.

I'm having a rough week. Feeling restless and unsure of where I stand in my own life. I tend to get quiet and withdrawn during these times.

It unnerved people when I'm quiet or when I don't want to eat. Sometimes I just like to be quiet. I spend so much time alone that it's become the norm. Being the wife of a soldier is a very lonely life. In between all the deployments and schools and training, I have a part time husband. When we manage to meet up and life is calm, it's rather enjoyable. But when we have one thing after another, it's hard to remember how to just "be".

I think that's what my therapist is trying to teach me....how to just be. I have no purpose in life today. I have no real goals anymore.

It sounds like a bad thing, but it's not. It's a clean slate with no expectations. I am taking time to really figure out what I want in my life, and stop measuring the successes and failures based on other peoples evaluations of it.

In other words, I don't give a rats ass if anyone likes it.

I plan to get back in a regular blogging mode next week. I've been doing it via iPhone, which is not easy.

There's more than one way to skin a cat.

That is a horrible saying. I was really unaware that cat hides were in high demand. It seems more reasonable to substitute buffalo or deer.

Or atleast I thought until last night.

We got a kitten about a week ago. Yeah, I know, because we needed another dependent creature. But Andy wanted one, and it's over a year since we lost our last one, so, I didn't really care. We named her Libby.

Libby is a sadist. A complete asshole. While I respect the fact that within one day, she made herself at home by way of unwrapping a foiled baked potato and eating half of it, as well as opening a box of pizza on the counter, giving the butter a few healthy licks, and stealing a peanut butter cookie...

Fucking with me while I attempt to sleep does not put one near and dear to my heart. Which she did ALL NIGHT last night, so I got two hours of sleep. I resorted to spraying her with a squirt bottle of water, which was fun the first few times until she started drinking the water when I sprayed it.

Next stop is canned air. My brother in law recommended using a giant air compressor. I might try that on my kids.

C'Mon, Irene!!!

Do we live in the path of the hurricane that is about to tear up the East Coast?

Sadly, no.

I like hurricanes. My husband thinks I am a dark soul for wishing there was a channel Luke the football channels, where you can show CNN, TWC, Msnbc all at the same time. I will be lying in bed all day Sunday, watching the carnage ensue.

To explain, my favorite movies happen to be ones that entail the destruction of earth. Watching natural disasters play out on tv is like a movie marathon. It's not that I wish harm to people, because I don't. It's simply amazing to watch, as are tornados. If given the chance, I would pay to go on a storm chasing trip in the Midwest. I'm lured by storms.

I tell Andy that I know this is the buildup to 2012, and he laughs at me. But things aren't exactly getting better this year, as far as natural catastrophes.

My husband is leaving this weekend for a month long PTSD treatment in TX. It's going to be difficult for me to have him leave but I know it's the best option for him. It's not an easy road when you have your husband leave all the time, and when they come home, they are different every time. But we all change and grow, don't we?

I haven't blogged much lately because I've had to do it on my phone. But in another week or two, my computer should be up and running and I will get back on the saddle.

Hostage by pregnancy

Seems like I missed the baby bandwagon, since everyone I know has baby fever. They are trying to get pregnant or they are pregnant. I don't have any desire to have another baby at all.

I just feel left out and shriveled up inside, like spoiled fruit.

Pregnancy is a lonely time. No drinking or smoking, which in itself is reason enough for me to not want to experience it again. I find Iake decisions based on my ability to be able to handle my issues with a nice glass of Pinot. You call it a drinking problem, I call it coping mechanism.

Potato, Patata.

It also makes you do weird things, like crave unnatural things. When pregnant with my second child, I craved toilet paper and tissues. Fucken weird, but don't judge me. My pregnant sister asked me to buy her a bag of goldfish cracker last weekend, which I find equally disturbing as wanting to eat paper. "The snack that smiles back."

You don't find that crazy? I don't want a face on ANYTHING I eat. You don't go to the animal farm and share meanful glances with your soon to be cheeseburger, do you? My relationship with my food is cordial, at best. Thank you for your contribution to my weight gain, high cholesterol and five minutes in fatty heaven.

I also find that the world sucks when it comes to getting pregnant. Why do people who have no business reproducing have no issues getting pregnant, while good, stable people try and try?

I will tell you why...
Natural selection.

The world needs weak individuals who won't make it to control the population. Sometimes you are just too special to produce multiple baby geniuses to run the planet. Case in point, most reality tv stars. Who would we laugh at on Worlds Dumbest Criminals if there were no poorly bred fools?

The New "Lost Generation"

Those of us born after the Baby Boomers have gotten a bad rap by our disapproving parents. They say we are lazy and unfocused. They refer to us as "late bloomers". They say we are the new "lost generation," referring to the generation during the first World War.

And to them I say, "you are right". We are a generation that is lost, and we have been given nothing to believe in. While other countries have evolved, we have grown up watching our own country regress, as our potential jobs and industries have been sent overseas. Our nation has fallen apart, much like our infrastructure, and I don't just refer to it's physical state, but also it's fiscal state. Our economy is nothing more than a Madoff Ponzi scheme, build upon a house of cards.

The examples set before us by our grandparents and parents alike, were war and materialistic greed. We are the "latch-key" kids, left to raise ourselves as the established the mantra of "all work and no play." Now we are underpaid, we overspend, and the growing stress of life kills us more rapidly.

Yet no one steps in to stop it.

We are a generation with no religion, only oppression of personal philosophy. Most of us are agnostic or atheist, as family values fell to the wayside; a casualty of our overworked single parents, who were to tired to take us to church, eat family meals together, and feel secure in our homes. As it was more important to "keep up with the Joneses" while we were virtually babysat with our cable tv, computers and video games.

When we were children, we watched the shuttles launch in to space, as we dreamed about our promise. Where will we go in the universe? What untold places would we explore? Now there is no space program, because our government is behind on the rent, and we are facing eviction. Our social programs are disintegrating, our health is failing, and we have no prayers left of ever retiring, as the prospect of Medicare and Social security fades in to black.

We are a generation that SHOULD be left with no hope.

But I believe.

I have a dream that one day, we will rise up and take what is ours-our government from politicians. We will make our leaders earn their paychecks by imposing strict term limits, eliminating "political dynasties." if they don't do what we elect them to do, they don't get respected. We take away privatized campaign funds, and let each candidate work with the same amount of money and airtime, so that we can elect leaders based on their abilities and qualifications, rather than who owes more backdoor favors to contributors and lobbyists. We eliminate political agendas, along with party ideologies, and work on dealing with issues on their own, rather than buying deals as a package, wrapped up it's pretty bureaucracy. We take back our country from big business, eliminate the bigotry and hate, and create a new American Dream, so that our grandchildren can once again be proud to call themselves Americans.

So you can keep calling us, "the new lost generation," because I find it inspiring to be grouped together with the likes of former "lists", such as Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and T.S. Eliot. Once you get out of our way, I think we will do as we did as children, and be fine left on our own.

So what's new in your life?

I am going home this weekend.

Not a long trip, but I'm getting rid of my kids for a week, so it's worth the drive. They are going to Disney World, which is good for them to get out of Bumfuck, NY for awhile, and out of the cloud that is perpetually hanging over us.

I am no longer working. I decided to take some much deserved me time, and get off my ass to start writing my book. I'm just going to self publish and if a book house decides to pick me up, then great. If not, it's one more thing I can check off my list of what I want to do on Earth.

My husband is going away for a month for PTSD treatment. After two deployments, it's hard for the strongest man to still admit that he needs help climbing out of a dark hole of depression, so I am proud of his decision to get help. They leave one person, and every other time they go, they lose a part of themselves, transforming in to the army's war machines, much like The Terminator. I know I will never see the man who left me to go to his first deployment in Iraq again, but there is still much of him left to save.

A strong man is not defined by physical strength or determination. A strong man knows when to admit he can't do it on his own. The army takes so much from us, and gives little in return. It's a hard life, to try to weather these storms individually and then try to come home and just go back to normal. I find myself grow cold and numb when he is gone, and it's just as hard for me to admit that the constant separation changes me too.

Another world, another time. Or is it?

I'm reading again. One of my favorite things to do to take me out of my own life and in to someone else's. I'm currently reading "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. It takes place in the 1960's in Jackson, Mississippi, and it's about the differences in race and lifestyle.

It's an amazing read.

Growing up in a predominantly white place, I guess I never really thought people were still racist. Other than my great grandmother, who still referred to black people as 'coloreds" in her old age, and who we shamefully shyster when she did, I was always taught that race didn't matter, and never gave it much more thought. But when I got married and moved to Georgia, I was quickly slapped in to a reality where there was still so much pain from the past and fear of what was different, namely the color of your skin.

I encountered many judging looks and poor attitudes from some of the black women in the doth. I didn't understand it at the time, and I felt that they were wrong for judging me as a white woman. When we moved to Alaska, I began to notice more how white people spoke disdainfully of black people, even referring to MLK Jr's birthday as "Nigger Day". I found it disgusting.

When we moved back to Savannah, Georgia, I enrolled my preschool aged sons in a family run daycare. On enrollment day, they told me that my kids were the only white children there, as if that would make me suddenly change my mind. Instead, it reinforced my decision to send them there. When would my two white sons ever know what it was like to be a minority? I loved that school, and the family that ran it. They took extra time with my eldest son, as his Aspergers Syndrome was just starting to become apparent.

Finally one night, Gavin asked me why his friend Jamaal had brown skin and he had pink skin? I told my five year old boy that it was the same as him having red hair and me having blond, or him having blue eyes and his daddy having brown. God makes us in many colors so that the world is as colorful as a painting.

My boy is now eleven and I look forward to the day he gets married, so we can add some pretty colors to our family. I am proud that my children don't see color as a race. Especially after having the unpleasant acquaintance of a woman from Jackson, MS, and hearing how she couldn't voted for a black man for President even though her own children were half Puerto Rican, and how she had only married their father because she became pregnant put of wedlock. How horrible a day when her own kids realize they are worth less to their own mother because they aren't fully white?

I don't know what my point was in sharing these thoughts today, other than hoping that people will learn from their mistakes from the past. It's the socially acceptable thing now to hate Muslims, and even as the wife of a soldier, I am sickened by the hate and fear that people still let excuse their bad behavior because it's politically correct.

Next time you want to nervously eye someone of a different race, make the change within yourself and do what is right. I know far worse people of my own race than anyone I've ever met of a different one.

Who is going to give therapy to my therapist?

I shit you not, my therapists office is in a crack den.

I rolled up a good 45 minutes early for my appointment, as I wasn't entirely sure where I was going. After seeing the outside of the building, I was relatively sure that mace would've been a good idea.

I was already dreading the whole, "so what seems to be the problem" question, since none of this is easily explainable. With each element to my issues that I described, it became more difficult for her to mask her various facial expressions and reactions. She kept looking around uneasily, as though she was waiting for the hidden camera crew to bust in at anytime, confirming her beliefs she was getting punked.

When the main therapist came in during the intake, it was all I could do to keep from bursting into laughter through my tears.

I had already been told she was a Reverend when I signed my Hippa paperwork, as I had to specify if I minded her discussing spirituality. What was NOT mentioned, was the fact this Reverend was in full biker attire, including do-rag and Chad. She apologized for her attire, to which I promptly responded that it actually made me feel a lot less in a position to be judged.

After all, why start being a conformist now?

The best part came when the two of them sat there in front of me and openly discussed my diagnosis, to which I added my thoughts and preliminary diagnosis. It was like we were co-counsel. They also seemed very concerned that I had an eating disorder since I mentioned I haven't eaten in three days. I was a little shocked at the term "eating disorder" as it's not because I am choosing not to eat for my appearance. Believe me, I TRIED to become an anorexic before to lose weight, but found that I sadly lacked the motivation. My choice to eat as little as possible now has more to do with the fact I have had diabetes for four months and I'm not particularly partial to it.

The more I recalled the events of the past year of my life, the more I found I wanted to put do myself. If she was this awestruck of my inner strength, I found myself saying, "oh, that was nothing...you should hear about the first time my husband deployed and I had five car accidents!"

I loved the horrific reactions she gave me. She would be a perfect audience for my book that I am writing about my life.

And we now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

So I know I have vanished for a while. My trip to CA was full of hilarious moments....and some uncomfortably emotional ones too. You can't be with two of your best friends since childhood and not lose your shit when your life is in crisis.

I've been trying everything possible to feel more like myself again. I slept all day, which was quite lovely and, in my opinion, far more addictive than any illegal substances would be when you are this worn out. I tried drinking, and gave it a good go, but I have learned I can't trust myself with a bottle of wine, because even if I promise it's only a glass, I finish the bottle every time. Being buzzed isn't the problem....that's the hangover and self-loathing afterwards. I've tried books on therapy and they suck. I've tried therapists, and they suck more because you have to wait weeks for an appointment and then leave feeling judged and disappointed. I'd rather read a good Chelsea Handler book with a nice gin and tonic by my side. That is a true and tested relaxation technique. Also helpful in a state of severe depression, is episodes of The Golden Girls. Watching 4 old bitches call each other sluts and berate each other is insurmountable fun. I even got Andy to watch it, and he snickered the whole time.

We have had ridiculous appointments, due to Andys the past two weeks and I have two more tomorrow. This was not completely what I had in mind when leaving my job to get myself to a more zen place. I was hoping more for a spa-like atmosphere, where I could sip monitor and read a whole book in one sitting. Of course, this fantasy also included my kids back in school and some sleep.

I don't really trust therapists, mostly because I've never met one who hasn't made questionable choices in their personal life. I also am much smarter than most of them, and they don't find it amusing to debate cognitive therapy versus group therapy with me. WebMD is evil to medical professionals and a direct threat because they get pissed they went to school all those years when you really only have to read, possess common sense and give good advice. Personally, I think shrinks would be more highly trusted if they were more honest to their patients. Let's face it...some people should be pushed toward an open window and encouraged to jump because they can't be helped. Sad, but true. Or I would advise consuming large amounts of alcohol to help mask the misery that will never leave them.

And this is why I am not a shrink.

However, I am starting personal therapy tomorrow and I am trying to be open-minded because I like a good surprise and maybe this shrink can pull some real advice or insight to my self-diagnosed state of acute depression and how to make it go the fuck away already, because I want to leave MYSELF after spending all week with me.

Of course, this depression could be otherwise explained by the lack of anything quality to watch on tv. I have 1500 channels and not one damn show that holds my interest for more than ten minutes.

Other fun things when you are depressed and have anxiety is grinding your teeth in your sleep. I wake up with my jaw so sore, you can relate to how a toothless hooker feels after a night of blow-jobs. It sucks. So I can further humiliate myself my wearing "Grind No More, which is a bite plate I get to sleep with every night.

All in all I am taking baby steps toward redemption and I will get there eventually. My lack of employment will give me time to continue writing my book, which will be an entertaining read.

Sometimes there aren't enough sick days...

I haven't worked the past two days. Had trouble getting out of bed. It wasn't any help that I have had a headache for three days straight. The more my anxiety goes up, the more medicine I take, the more tired and unmotivated I become.

It's like being in a coma.

Another interesting side effect of my medicine is that it is making me beat up my husband in my sleep.

(I found this slightly amusing too.)

Turns out that Zoloft can make you act out your dreams. Obviously, him staying in bed with me comes at great risk to his personal safety...and I respect that he is willing to take that chance in order to spoon. Hopefully for him, I don't do this very often...but it's nice to know I have the ability to scare him just a tad. Further encouragement to "walk the straight and narrow" or continue to sleep with one eye open.

I head to sunny California tomorrow, to attend one of my BF's bachelorette party. As much as I look forward to this weekend, it brings a lot of mixed feelings. How hard is it going to be to go to CA and know I should be living there right now? It's another reminder of the life I left behind when everything crashed down.

What I have to remember, is that I still have a life in front of me. It's just a different one. Different doesn't equal worse, it's simply "different." And they say that change isn't easy. So I just have to stay focused on the fact that even though I was dealt a crappy hand, it wasn't my last poker game. I will go on to win more and lose more.

It's so easy for my head to process this motivational speaker stuff...it's getting my heart to believe it that is tough.

Anyway...I fully intend to eat and drink heartily this weekend, and laugh until my face hurts. I really need it.

You CAN teach an old dog new tricks.

I spend most of my life being bored.

I live for the moments in which I am actually enjoying living, rather than tolerating my own existence. I never go and do anything on weeknights when I have to work the next day. I stick to a pretty normal schedule, and if people want me to do something ON a worknight, I decline almost immediately, because it's just a bad idea.

Last night, I threw caution to the wind.

I didn't mean to...it just kind of happened.

I got a pretty healthy buzz/minorly drunk at my house. It was't some "exciting event". There were no other "people" or anyone else to "drink with" (as I put these quotation marks in, I am completely imagining Chris Farley delivering this post in a monologue.) It wasn't the "responsible thing" and it could've ended in me becoming an "emotional mess".

But it didn't. I laughed with my friends on the phone all evening, and then Andy woke up and came to locate me since I didn't come to bed and found me drunk in the garage, smoking a cigarette. And then we went up to bed, and I talked him in to coming back down for "just one more." I am pretty sure I walked in to the door jam a few times, because I remember laughing about that, and then there was a conversation about doing kareoke when I am in California next week and "seizing the moment."

HAHAHA.

The point is...I had fun. I needed that.

Every day, I feel a little better and a little more secure in my own skin again. Anyone who has been through a rough patch knows that the first couple of times they feel GREAT, it is such a huge step in moving on. It's so normal to just feel uneasy and anxious or just surviving, that to have a really good night makes a big difference.

Andy said it made him feel better to see me be so silly and happy, because he hasn't seen that in so long. And I want that person to come out more often, because that is who I used to be and want to be again.

The good news is....she's still here.

And I wonder why I have bad karma?

DISCLAIMER: I am going to start this post about one topic, and then, in true female fashion, randomly switch to a completely separate issue. Just warning you, if you have a need for rational and well-organized thought.

I think deep down, I am a mean-spirited person. I have good intentions, and I do like to root for the underdog, but it doesn't prevent me from laughing at other people's expense.

I figure I am owed that much, since my life provides an endless source of entertainment for others.

I love watching people trip and fall. Of course, you always have to follow this kind of statement with "as long as they are not seriously injured" to be considered politically correct. But the worse the fall, the harder you laugh. It's just considerate to stop and ask, "Are you okay" BEFORE you laugh.

I love watching TOSH.0 on Comedy Central. I have no idea whether Daniel Tosh is gay or straight, but he is sexy as hell either way, because he is politically uncorrect and hilarious. If you can't laugh at this show, then something is seriously wrong with you.

This week, he featured a kid who farted on the bus, and it was a major news story in his local area, because the bus driver told the kid if he farted again, he would be banned from the bus.

Really?

Not to get all paranoid and make people think I am about to grow out my armpit hair and start a militia in Montana, but I am starting to have some serious concerns about the brain-washing of America. We are completely indoctrinated from childhood, that we are free in the US.

I call bullshit.

In America, you can get arrested for things you say, even if there is no action or intent to commit an act. You can't say the word "bomb" on an airplane, or 15 plastic spork-wielding passengers will jump you as an air marshal kicks your face in.

You can not be discriminated against legally for ethnicity, religion or sexual orientation, but you can be discriminated against for being stupid or fat. Where is the fine line?

You can't put money in a foreign bank account without it being reported to the IRS. Even if you are a dual citizen. Both countries of citizenship have the right to tax you, even if you don't set foot in the US for 30 years.

The US can watch you where ever you go. They can track every movement you make digitally. I find this incredibly terrifying. I don't want the US government, or ANY government knowing everything I do. If I want to get on the phone and bitch to my friends about rampant diahrhea, I want to do it and know there is no one randomly tapping my phone.

People are convicted for crimes in this country that they didn't really commit, or even intend to commit. There are so many loopholes in the justice system that we think are good laws to protect us, until you get caught in one and it ruins your life.

When I was fifteen, my boyfriend was 18. We were both in high school. We had sex consentually. Now, that is a crime that could cause someone's life to be ruined, and labeled for the rest of their lives for something most of us have been a party to.

It's shocking. We think that if we are good, law-abiding citizens that nothing bad will really happen to us. But it's not the case.

I feel like I've been unplugged from the Matrix.

Back to my originally story...

How the hell do you ban a kid from a bus for farting? WHAT??? He didn't fart in someones face, or even try to fart the alphabet. HE JUST FARTED.

If I were on that bus, I would encourage a "Fart Coup" as retaliation. Organize every kid on that bus to eat a bean burrito and stink that bitch out.

And this goes back to my original statement, that because I am mean-spirited, I have bad karma as my reward.

Perfect bliss. In my head, of course.

I've put a lot of thought in to the possibilities of my life lately.

There are things I know will never happen, and things that very well could. In either case, it's good to have ideas and options. Right now, I am working with somewhat of a blank canvas, so nothing is really out of the question.

It gives for some imaginative scenarios.

For one, I've gone native. No, that doesn't mean foregoing the bikini area maintenance. It means that suddenly everything in my house is worthless crap. I don't want any of it.

I want to be a goat farmer and live in Bali. Not "farmer" as in actually feeding them and shoveling shit. More for name's sake. I would go out and pet them though. But just the little goats that look like babies for their whole lives. Pygmies, I think. I would be fine living in an open air hut on the beach. Until it gets really hot, and I need air-conditioning. And mosquito nets, for sure.

It's these little things that make you comfortable that would be hard to sacrifice. I won't eat local meats. I would become vegetarian for sure. I am not very adventurous when it comes to food. I won't even drink milk 4 days after I buy it, and it has to be two weeks before it's expiration date. I have a hard enough time thinking about those kind of life changes, and then I wonder how my kids would be able to handle it after living the first decade of their lives with Disney World, cell phones and Playstation.

God forbid I made them play with a ball or frisbee.

Caught red-handed...

I stopped at home during lunch today to drop off a gallon of milk and six-pack of Smirnoff Mango (Don't judge me) and whilst coming down the street, who do I see but my 11-year old, happily riding his skateboard.

His friend tipped him off that my vehicle was coming...The old "Hey man...here comes your mom!!!"

Fortunately, Gavin had the common sense to know he had already lost the battle and just stopped and waited for me to pull up to him. Had he made me pursue him, there would've been far more severe consequences than what he is already in for. (I always think while watching "Cops" when they have to pursue a suspect on foot because he runs, that it is automatic grounds to taze the shit out of the them when caught, just for making the cop run.)

I pulled up next to him, opened my window and mustered up my best "pissed off mom" look, and told him to get in the damn car.

The child was already to be grounded today, since he kept me up half the night turning on his tv after he was told to go to bed. But they are most definitely NOT allowed outside if I am not home.

Now I have to figure out how the hell I am going to punish him. It's times like this that the good old days of corporal punishment are missed. When I was a kid, I feared my dad. He wasn't a bad dad, nor did he "beat" me. But when my mom said that HE was going to handle my punishment, I spent the next several hours contemplating my own death.

Now you can't touch your kids, because they are so programed to dial "911" if you even pick up a wooden spoon. They know they have your balls in a vice, and you can't spank them.

Other than grounding him from everything he owns, doing chores and not allowing him to go outside (otherwise known as punishing myself), there really aren't many checks and balances to parenting. This has allowed the last generation to lack the proper motivation to do what is right, because there are no real consequences.

I wish I had the money to take him to a third-world country, so he can see how children spend their day, toiling away to stitch together his DC hat and Old Navy T-shirts. No school, no fun, no tv, no video games.

We spend so much of our time taking the fear out of our children. Comforting them that, no matter what happens, they will be provided for in a safe, comfortable environment.

I think it's kind of bullshit.

All we are doing is shielding them from how horrible life really can be, and might very well be. We teach them how to use computers in school, but not survival techniques, such as how to build a fire or how to fish.

I want to raise men, not a bunch of pansy-ass, Abercrombie-wearing posers.

I think some alternative parenting is going to have to come out of the woodwork on this one.

Any thoughts?

And in my spare time, I moonlight as a law-enforcement ninja.

So, we got broken in to this past weekend.

I noticed the stuff in my cars' center console moved around the first day. The punks had the indecency to crumple a brand new book of stamps I had in there for any postal emergencies that may arise. It pissed me off, but I figured it was my own children, on the hunt for hidden gems such as bubble gum and pocket change for the ice cream man.

I lacked the motivation to even yell at them, as this is a common occurrence and I choose my battles wisely.

And I was feeling lazy and tired.

Before we went to bed that night, Andy and I were having a discussion about psychic visions and how I have them. Of course, these visions are never helpful in PREVENTING something bad from happening, rather they just prolong my agony because then I KNOW something bad is going to happen, but I have no idea what it is. I need to go to Psychic School so I can learn how to do something useful with it, because it's just starting to really irritate me.

Anyhow...

I woke up out of a dead sleep at 4:30am, to find Andy thrashing about...clearly in a bad dream. When you are married to a soldier who has deployed, this is sometimes common. The problem is, when he dreams, he doesn't remember it by morning. So, our new thing is for me to wake him up while he is dreaming (risking getting punched in the face) so that I can ask him what the dream is about.

So that's what I did. He was pretty upset, as the dream was that we were getting robbed, and he had cornered the offender in the garage. Keep in mind, I didn't mention to him about the stuff in my car being messed with.

We went back to sleep a little while later, and in the morning, he went out in the garage to have a smoke and found that we HAD been burglarized. Not only had they messed with both our cars and stolen stuff, but also broke in my garage. Because of the nature of one of the items they stole, we called the MPs to file a police report. They told us that this had been happening with alarming frequency lately, so lock everything up, but there is nothing they can do.

All the meanwhile, the MP kept his hands on his Tazer. (I capitalized Tazer, because it is a weapon that I am actually afraid of and I feel it is deserving of noting its importance.) He kept eyeing us nervously, (IN OUR OWN GARAGE) and I made a mental note to keep my hands where he could clearly see them, and made no sudden movements or walked towards him.

"Please don't taze me...Please don't taze me" I kept thinking. I thought about warning Andy, but then I figured if this dude was intent on taking one of us down for the sport of it, let it be him not me.

I have strong survivalist instincts at the expense of my friends and family members.

I am the kind of gal who likes to take matters in their own hands. Frustrated by the lack of investigative nature in these cops/soldiers, I presented my plan of action to Andy.

We were going to do a stake out and catch the little fuckers.

We rigged a silent alarm on the side of the house, only heard inside, as not to tip off the burglars. Why do we have such a device? Because we used to put it on the refrigerator to prevent the kids from pilfering food at night when we slept.

When we heard the alarm go off, Andy was to immediately speed dial the MPs, and I was going to take off and, in my ninja-like all black spandex (which I own for situations like this) I was going to track them, while texting back to Andy so he could tell the MPs where they were going. I was greatly upset we didn't have a more appropriate method of communication, as headsets would've been optimal.

I was mildly disappointed, as I asked the MP who came to our house if we were allowed to catch them and zip-tie them until the MPs got there, and he said laughed and said no. I wasn't kidding.

I figured I may have to do a few "tuck and rolls" along the ground as I tracked them, which brought in to my head an image of Kevin James from "King of Queens" as "Paul Blart: Mall Cop." I felt at a slight disadvantage, due to my lack of athletic prowess, at being able to get up fast enough if I got down, to which one of my best friends suggested I properly motivate myself with a hotdog tied to a stick dangling over my head. But I didn't have time to construct such an apparatus.

Andy thought my stake out was hilarious. When you are a trained Sniper, I would assume you would look down your nose at such an idea from your wife. However, I am trained in the black arts of stalking (mostly ex-boyfriends and boyfriends of friends). I told him to not underestimate the allure of a stake out, and that he should text his soldiers to ask if they could participate as backup, or contribute some night vision goggles. Unfortunately, they were all out of town, but they were also disappointed, as it was bound to be great fun.

So what was the end result of my adventure? Nothing. We forgot to turn the alarm ON, and we fell asleep, after a coma-inducing meal of homemade meatball sandwiches.

Guess we will have to wait until next time, when I bait my car and install a spy camera on the fence.

Being "the bigger person" is not emotionally fulfilling.

I had a blog post all ready for today.

I was going to let someone have it...several someone's. This class reunion stuff stirred up some old feelings toward a select few that used to make me want to die, and in the spirit of me not giving a shit, I was going to call them out for it. I know they are still assholes, and giving them the benefit of the doubt would only piss me off more when they prove I was right.

What spawned this intense irritation? Someone who I never liked, made a condescending remark on the Facebook page that was created to solicit suggestions and gauge interest in a 15 year reunion. He made a remark because he is pompous, and had to discount the ideas of other people, but covered it by feigning concern for the organizer.

And it opened the floodgates of my wrath towards all who had wronged me, because I felt like once again, this guy was trying to shut up the "little people" who weren't part of his group, because he didn't care what we had to say about our own reunion. Just like we didn't have a choice in who ran for student government, because the majority of people were too afraid to run against all the "preps". So they won.

I imagined all the people of the world who were bullied reading my post, petting their villainous lapcats and grinning with an evil glee at the vindication of it, because it spoke for them too.

I wanted a villainous lapcat.

Then I did what I rarely do...let my friends read it before I posted it.

I knew they would talk me out of it, and most of the time, I don't want them making me second-guess myself. I don't want to be censored. It defeats the point of a blog about my life. Then I am picking and choosing, rather than just putting it out there.

DAMN.

The biggest reason that I am not going to post it, is because the last thing I need right now is bad karma. I am scared enough of that to remain emotionally unfulfilled in expressing my ugly feelings.

If my blog has a point to it or theme, it would be that I am human. Yeah, I've had some insane things happen lately, but the rest of it has been comparable to most people's lives, in one way or another.

When I went to my 10 year reunion, I had my own insecurities. It's natural to want to cover up any of the misfortunate events that take place and put on a brave face and pretend it's all okay.

But sometimes you are NOT okay. I am totally NOT okay right now. But I will be.

Maybe you went through a divorce or ten, and you don't want anyone to know. Half of us are going to be divorced...so why is it so hard to admit when you tried something and it didn't work out? I would rather fail at something than not have the courage to try. God, I cringe when I think about the people I quasi-know reading my blog and judging me. For not being a perfect person, perfect mom, perfect wife. But I don't know if I really would want to be either.

Sounds kind of Stepford Wives, and boring.

I think the good in my life outweighs the bad. That's why I am able to laugh at myself. Despite the crap, I really wouldn't change MUCH. A few things here and there, sure. But I don't see this as a failure, as I have time to make it better. I see it as a challenge.

But it doesn't make me feel better that I was being a pussy today by not posting what I wanted to. I am totally pouting about it.

And now I am eating a doughnut, because it's the least I deserve for being so good.

Humpf!

Fuck the high road.

“Wigger” and other horrible things people came up with in the 90s

In 1990, I was at the ripe old age of 11. The same age my youngest son is now. Most of the stuff that I remember about my childhood happened after this time period.

Like all generations, you have things that you remember about your significant developmental years that you just had no idea what you were doing at the time. How do I understand that you have no good reason for doing something that you really didn’t want to do?

MC Hammer Pants.

Pegging your jeans.

Big Bangs.

Martika.

Mullets.

Men in cut-off jerseys, baring their midriffs.

Calling people “Wiggers”

Boy George.

Yeah. I went there.

How did we allow these atrocities to occur at the hands of our generation?

It’s a question I will ask myself in horror every time I watch the “Fly Girls” on “In Living Color.” Why, would we think it was acceptable for a man to wear a sleeveless shirt of any kind? You should NEVER see armpit hair unless you are at the beach or at home.

They are simply, crimes against humanity.

And like combating hunger, AIDS and genocide…we have to band together to never repeat the same mistakes twice.

We need change. (This is why I voted for Obama)

We need…

The New Kids on The Block. NKOTB. And Marky Mark…because he was an original member of the band.

“Donnie D’s on the backup. Drug-free, so put the crack up.”

I wonder how creepy it is for them to perform to audiences on their tour with the Backstreet Boys, and have 30-40 year old woman throwing their bras and panties at them? It’s got to be a life filled with lots of beer goggles and broken dreams. I wonder how many of their illegitimate children are introduced to them at their concerts?

“It was a starry night in Omaha, after the concert. He smelled like Drakkar Noir and Wild Turkey 101, and I was dressed like Donna from 90210. He kept wanting to call me Karen, even though my name is Jenny. It was magical.”

Every generation has their kryptonite. Those things that suddenly define you as a generation that you really wish didn’t. Like leisure suits and mutton chop sideburns. I mean, people HAD to be on heavy drugs to think that was attractive. For my children, it’s letting Miley Cyrus become famous and wanting hair like Justin Bieber.

In my day, we called that haircut Amish. It’s a bowl cut, folks.

I guess we just have to sit back and hope the next generation comes up with stuff that is more embarrassing than what we did.

Class Reunions are like car wrecks…

You really don’t want to see them, but you can’t help but look.

Like most people, I keep in touch with the majority of people I care to from high school or my youth. And I actually do a pretty good job at it. Sure, there are a few people I don’t get to talk to, or wonder what ever happened to them because they dropped off the face of the earth. And this is why I get drawn in to going to Reunion events.

And also to see people I hated, because in my head, I will have the balls to tell them to fuck off now.

I am still waiting to have the balls, in most cases.

Don’t get me wrong, the last few years of high school were pretty enjoyable. I had a good group of friends. But there is always a chain of insecurity in high school that pulls you down from being your true self. Maybe you were a dork who never got a date. Maybe you were popular, and felt pressured to be perfect. Maybe you were somewhere in the middle. You felt pretty good, but there were always a few who made you feel not good enough. That was me.

I like reunions to see how ugly the people are now, who I hated in high school. Some of them, you have to wonder why they were even popular to begin with, because they were ugly and not funny at all. How does it feel now, to be average like everyone else? You thought The Gap was high-end and didn’t even know what Prada was. You didn’t marry a plastic surgeon and move to Beverly Hills. You peaked at 17, and now secretly hide your addiction to meth, as your hatred for your life builds.

I also like to see the married couples who met in high school. I wonder if they really married their soul mates, or if they always wonder if they could have done better?

I also like reunions to be able to cheer for the underdog. Remember that girl who was really fat and quiet that you always pitied? You always wondered who she was? I love it when I see that they have lost all the weight and are gorgeous now. Because those are the people who deserve it. And then at reunions, when people say, “I don’t even remember you”, they can say, “Yeah, because you were a self-absorbed asshole.”

Most people in my high school thought they knew me, based on what little they did. I was blond and blue-eyed, bubbly and silly. I liked attention, and making people laugh. Self-deprecating humor has always worked for me, although I really have a healthy self confidence. People mistook my need to entertain for being dumb, when in actuality, I am smarter than most of them. It worked, because they underestimated me and then I didn’t have to put out as much effort.

People also thought I was a slut, because I got pregnant at 16. In reality, I had a boyfriend for a year, who was 18 and a German exchange student. Right before he left, I lost my virginity to him after my sweet 16th birthday party. I talked to my mother beforehand, to be responsible, and went on birth control, in case I went through with it. After this, I never saw him again because he had to go back to Germany. I was heart-broken, and 3 months later, I rebounded by having a summer time fling while on vacation. It was meant to make me feel better. What ended up happening, is that the guy was mentally unstable and abusive to me and I got pregnant because I hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone and went off birth control. The day I found out I was pregnant, I broke up with him because I hated him. My biggest thought at the time, was that no one would ever take me to my senior prom. That was how I knew I wasn’t ready to be a mother. So my mom asked me if I wanted an abortion, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. We went away to Baltimore for a weekend, so I could make a decision to have the baby or have an abortion. I had pretty much settled on an abortion, as I wanted no contact with the father what-so-ever, and made my choice to do so. And then it started to snow. The “Blizzard of 96”. And as it started to snow, I started to bleed. By the time we got back to Lancaster, I had miscarried. I went back to school a week later, and everyone thought I had an abortion. I would have, but I didn’t end up having to make that decision. It was made for me, and I am glad for that now. It would’ve been horrible to live with the guilt of that, even though it was the best choice for me at the time. People talked about me…how I was a slut because I got pregnant, even though they were sleeping with their boyfriends. Guess they didn’t realize they could’ve had the same problem very easily.

I didn’t become a slut until much later.

But it was that was fun. I had two years of casual sex before I got married. I didn’t do it because I had low self esteem. I didn’t do it to make boys like me. I did it because it was a blast and I was a goddess. And I have some hilarious stories, and slept with some people that most girls in my high school dreamed about. Why should I feel bad about that? Because it’s immoral? Could I have casual sex at this stage of my life, if I were single? Definitely. I am a sexual person. I’m not going to apologize for being myself. But I can honestly tell you that I have never cheated on my husband, from Day 1 of our marriage. I can keep my vagina in my pants.

I feel sorry for the closed-minded idiots that I went to school with. Those who took themselves so seriously that they didn’t bother to BE themselves. You might have sat at the “cool table” or the “smart table”, but you missed out on knowing me. So if I see you at the reunion and you are curious about what you might have missed, come over and say hi. I’ll give you a shot. Because if we haven’t grown at all in 14 years, then what have we done with our lives?