Wednesday, May 16, 2007

The Answer

The answer to 9 truths and a lie will appear in the new blog.

Right next to the post about spanking.

Which is dedicated to those who haven't expressed any interest in knowing where the new blog is, and frankly, I'm a little sad about that.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


So, I've officially entered the witness protection program. New blog, new names, etc.

If you want to follow me and I like you e-mail me and tell me why I should let you be my friend.

You think I'm mouthy should see what comes out of me when I don't need to filter.

Monday, May 14, 2007

9 Truths and a lie

I just LOVE these blogging games..

1. I only have one ovary

2. I skipped 5th grade.

3. I was in a major magazine (picture and all)

4. I changed schools 17 times before graduating high school.

5. I've been licensed to drive forklift, and for harness racing (horses)

6. I have seriously deformed toes

7. My Lady's Garden (sweeping hand motion) is pierced and tattooed-- hence all the grooming you keep reading about

8. I'm still angry that someone stole my Donny and Marie dolls in kindergarten

9. I've sung in a rock band

10. I've 'played for the other team' but it just wasn't for me.

I tag Speedwobble, Fex, Buck Nekkid and Gadfly (I mean he's top of mind after what he said about my cheesecake.)

Sunday, May 13, 2007

A Good Day Fishin'

They say a bad day fishin is still better than a good day at work. Well, what if you get to fish TWO DAYS IN A ROW?!
It was my weekend with the boys, and yesterday we did the train museum fishing and bike riding. Today, church, brunch with Maven and G Man, more fishing (I ran around the lake while my mom was the Master Baiter) and wrapped up with bike riding and playing in the playground.

I can't wait to go to work to REST!Karateboy and his first TROUT!

Tippy was more patient watching that bobber than any child I've ever seen!

I was there for the sun and the worms.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Fuck it, bring me the cheesecake.

MILF Checkin-- how many weeks have I been saying the same thing? Weight same, body a wee bit smaller. But I did get a picture of myself from Walkamerica. A side view. I hardly recognized me.

So, for the 4th time, I sucked it up and took myself out to dinner. In a restaurant with napkins and silverware.

I chose the Cheesecake Factory because as a single person, I could easily get a table. And I haven't had cheesecake in a really, really, really long time. And if, in my head, I pretend to be Rachel Ray, I tend to enjoy the experience of dining 'al singlo'.

I think I was feeling sassy 'cause I'd just had my visit with my esthatician (sic?) and I always feel just a little bit tougher after someone pours hot wax on my most delicate of regions and rips out the hair by the root. Oh and my brows look fantastic. No mustache. No beard. {sigh!} So I was feeling pretty full of a cup of ME!

And I swear to GOD if I had to eat one more Cliff bar or Power Bar or Luna Bar for dinner, I'm going to scream.

So I sashayed into said restaurant, and when they asked, ' how many?', I answered, 'Party of ME!' ( I kid you not, you can ask the girl with the cute hair. That's what I said.)

She rhetorically asked who she should 'give' me to, and I said, ' someone with personality, please'. 'Cause I was on a sassy high. A force of nature. People, I am HEEEERREEE!

I sat down, ordered my drinks (water and diet soda). Drank them both before the waiter got back to the table for my order-- that's when he knew he had his hands full. I ordered the Steakhouse Salad. He felt the need to point out that there was no steak on that salad. I just looked at him. Then I told him to bring me the chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake.

I dutifully ate my salad. Even had a little bread. He dutifully refilled my drinks. Both of them.

Then came the cheesecake. Because I have worked my ASS off since my last piece of cheesecake. I can't even remember when it was. It isn't that I was depriving myself...I just liked the results I was getting more than I wanted cheesecake.

This was the kind of week where lots of teeny silly things were just chipping away at me. I still carried my sunny disposition but there were tiny little chinks. I snip here, a snip there--and they left me tired and disappointed. And I really, really wanted to reward myself.

So he brought the cheesecake. With a SUPER amount of whipped cream. With chocolate chips on top. My smile was from ear to ear. I savored that first sweet, creamy spoonful. Then I hit some of the whipped cream. I methodically switched between the two enjoying every single sensation. I might have even moaned. Who cares. I was having cheesecake. (I took a picture, but seemed to have LOST my camera in the last 10 hours. Um..yeah, so picture to be posted later)

I ate thing whole thing and with each spoonful teased the hell out of an elderly woman in a wheelchair at the next table. That is until her filet mignon came came out. Then we were even.

So bring on the freakin' cheescake people, 'cause you only live once.

(oh and another plus? Someone told me that I've graduated from future MILF to full MILF. I feel like there ought to be a ceremony or something)

Indecent Proposal

Last night after kickball, it was drink time. I look forward to drink time.

As always Buck Nekkid led the conversation with a thought provoking question. He asked the men, 'How much money would someone have to pay you to have anal sex?'

For clarification he added, 'Catching only'.

Well, after we got done laughing at the thought, there was great debate amongst the men. Buck apparently would go pretty cheaply at about $450, while some others were talking at least a million.

I, for once kept quiet. I'm sure I had that quiet, pensive look on my face and my right pointer finger rubbed its way across my bottom lip. Buck is the only person who seems to recognize that far off glaze in my eye and the finger move as my thinking pose.

The conversation continued with debate about what size you'd let in and how long it could last, etc. Naturally, the next discussion was oral. How much would convince you to give someone oral?

Almost everyone (ladies included) agreed that oral is much more intimate and would clearly command a bigger bounty. Those who disagreed debated, and we laughed our asses off.

My personal answer was, 'Whatever the market will bear....' I want to get a ridiculous amount of money for as little work as possible.

Of course, I was still thinking. What could I do that would be enough to take away my short term money stress and yet leave me with my dignity, health and reputation? HMMMM?

So, I think I'm going to look for a short-term sugar daddy. I was a sugar momma for years, but I did a terrible job. I'd even planned to sell my eggs to a fertility clinic until I was told I wasn't a good candidate (@$5k a pop, i could have quickly made a dent in my student loans).

So, what's left? A selling a kidney (which would totally eff up my triathlon plans) or whoring myself out. 'Cause being a barista at Starbucks isn't going to pay enough quickly enough.

{Note to Mom: No, I'm not going to sell myself. But it is an interesting business proposition.}

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

We Sing

Those who've known me for a while know that I sing all the time. Mostly when I'm alone or with the boys, but often. It is a release, it is fun, and in my head I'm a rock star.

So, imagine the warm tears of joy when Karateboy mentioned in the van Monday evening that he learned a new song in music. Frere Jaques. Well, we sang it in French, sang it in English, I taught him how to sing it in a round....we're nerds. I was totally Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

All those hours I spent when he was a baby playing Mozart and lots of other kinds of music are paying off. When the boys beg to hear 'Move Along' by the All American Rejects or 'More' by Matthew West-- I'll play them on the one condition that they sing along and LOUDLY.

Karateboy knows all the boy parts from Moulin Rouge. He's Ewan McGregor and I get to be Nicole Kidman. I'm working on the Les Miserables soundtrack. I like to be Eponine in 'A Little Fall of Rain'. Yep. That's how I spend my free time. Making my sons show tune junkies!!

(For balance, they're learning Karate...really!!)

One of the best compliments I received recently was from the pastor at my old church who missed me singing in the band. It means a lot, because my history with competitive singing went a lot like my history with competitive spelling. The pressure killed me and I failed.

See, district chorus tryouts were tough. And as an alto, you get the harmony part of this REALLY HARD song. I knew it. I knew it inside and out. I just blew it. And what I had to sing was UGLY. I can't compete and sing something that doesn't move my soul!!!

Then, when I wanted a solo in the choir in high school, I had competition. Instead of letting us fight for it, or choosing one over the other, Mr. Locke decided that Molly Mather and I would split the solo. I practiced like crazy. I was ready.

When it was time, live, in concert, Molly came in several bars early. Thoroughly throwing a choir of 200 people off and completely ruining my moment. Curse you Molly !! (admittedly she was probably just as nervous as I was, and who could blame her. Actually she probably saved me some sort of public embarrassment.)

There were only two other times that I sang as a teenager and there is video somewhere to prove it. I sang 'Take My Breath Away' in the spring concert, which is totally not within my range but no one had the heart to tell me. And I sang something in one of the pageants I was in. I just don't remember what. I think it might have been The Rose. 'Cause I can do Bette Middler.

All that training I SWEAR has paid off in this triathlon thing. I think I had a much easier time learning to breathe than the others. Not really a sport, but a muscle exercised nonetheless!

Kind of funny that my favorite songs these days are heavy metal ones-- but I require the singers to actually sing. There must be lots of drum and screaming guitars. There can be SOME screaming, but mostly I'm in love with the melody. And the singing along. And I don't care if no one EVER wants to listen. It's just for me and I hope to pass that love onto the boys (I think I already have).

I'd love to learn to play piano and read music and tune my ear better. All in good time. All in good time.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Tribute to the Maven

I get some of my best thinking done while I'm swimming these days. Today I started thinking about who would be the perfect person to be by my side for my first triathlon. I've been saying that I need two, maybe three. One to pick up the remnants of my bike after I wreck, one to hold my hand in the ambulance and one to kiss me at the finish line. I've let go of the last one, but I really think the 1st two are important.

It would have to be someone who is supportive and wouldn't even by accident make a comment that will deflate my somewhat tentative confidence. They need to think quickly and see what I need before I need it, and yet not afraid to 'manage me' when I get defensive, indignant and otherwise bitchy. It absolutely has to be someone who isn't going to hate me later. Someone whose mere presence would motivate me, and always have the right thing to do or say.

As I was swimming along...I was thinking those requirements fit the person I needed by my side when I was going to have my first baby. While I loved STBX, motivation isn't his strength, and let's face it, if I growled, I wasn't sure how he'd react. (in the end he was my absolute savior with breastfeeding so he gets points)

Of course, I chose Maven. She's one of those kinds of friends. Actually a one of a kind friend. Never over does it so much that you feel indebted to her, let's you do just enough that you feel like it's all even. She has saved my ass over the years in soooo many ways.

And I have failed miserably as a friend.

Her birthday was last week. Our schedules kept us apart, and I couldn't seem to find the most truly special thing I could to let her know how important she is to me (oh my God I'm misting). So I sent her a list of options. SHOULDN'T I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT SHE WANTS? WHAT KIND OF CRAPPY FRIEND AM I GIVING HER WORK LIKE THAT!! Then, I had house guests and a crammed schedule. And isn't it just like me not to check in on my favorite family? I found out Monday that she had been sick. I should have taken the time to bring chicken soup, but instead I played mini-golf.

So anyway, this is the blog post I SHOULD have written in honor of her birthday.

Maven is the friend who:
  • makes you dessert when you feel like your world will never be the same
  • stands back and lets you make a teeny fool of yourself because she knows that's the only way your gonna learn--- and gently makes sure you don't go overboard
  • shares a ton of secrets and jokes
  • saves my ass at work regularly by keeping me in the loop on stuff I don't get to see from the ivory tower
  • is my children's 'Safe Side Adult' and I absolutely trust her implicitly with their care and welfare
  • amazingly loves me no matter what I do or say
  • wanted to be my friend at a time when not many people wanted to hang with STBX and I
  • introduced me to a whole community of people that love me for me
  • shows me by example how to balance being a woman and a professional and a mother
  • shares her home, her food, her children, and yes, her husband-- willingly and with an open heart
  • thinks about how fantastic your sassy new hair cut is while she can't seem to sleep at night
  • brings you a dress she loves from her own closet because she thinks it will fit you perfectly
  • is always adapting and changing and growing in the most amazing ways
  • even though we don't agree on everything provides an easy sort of friendship-- without the drama
  • brings the bourbon slushies to every event
  • I could keep going for hours

So, happy belated birthday Maven. Thanks for everything.

(if you must comment, please comment on her blog-- send her the love!!)