Slow Motion for me

It's 6 am, I've been up all night, there's a gigantic pile of laundry to my left, a cat at my feet, and the brutal summer is finally giving way to fall. Uhh, I like it like that....

Sooo, what have I been up to? Nobody asked, but I'm telling you anyway.

1. Dieting. Always dieting. Except this time, it actually seems to be working. See, I've discovered the secret to successful weightloss is actually starvation. No, I'm not kidding. I don't know if I have a fucked up metabolism or some other weirdo medical reason for why I can't lost weight, but nothing ever worked before. I used to go to the gym 5 days a week before covid - never lost a pound. Vegetarian/Vegan for 15 years. Got fatter. I counted calories, right down to the spices I use to cook. nothing. A relative once seriously suggested that I try meth, but eh. So yeah, I'm currently consuming between 500 - 1000 calories a day, usually hovering somewhere right around 700. I'll eat oatmeal for breakfast (200cal), an apple mid day (80cal), and then a sandwich or something for dinner with a handful of vitamins and supplements...all pleasure has vanished. But on the plus side, I'm down 11 pounds. Huzzah, bitches.

2. I've been painting a lot lately. I like thinking I'm good at it, even though I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. Wanna see? Of course you do.

What else? Oh, I got to cosplay a deer for tarot.

How stinking cute is that? I swear to god, once I'm skinny and better at applying ridiculous amounts of makeup and in therapy to deal with my crushing social anxiety, it's over for y'all bitches. <3

Speaking of tarot, omigerd I had this dude hit me up for a reading. Cool beans, whatever. Pulled his cards, had a phone chat with him, and I totally nailed his reading. We talked for a little while after, and he was kind of awkward but clearly needed to vent about things. cool cool cool, I am your girl if you need an ear. We yap about music for a bit, he talks about his family, we discuss tarot and religion and Aleister Crowley for some reason and a few things like that, and he seems like a pretty chill guy. He's also a musician, so that's always a plus. 

So here I am, naïve little ol' me, thinking I'd maybe made a new friend. It's almost as if I've never learned that men are really just walking, talking penises whose only goal in life is to insert themselves into as many crevices as possible, because I swear to fuck as soon as the call was disconnected, he started messaging me.

Ain't that just peachy? 

Also, has this EVER worked on any woman who isn't a porn bot or scammer? It would be one thing if any part of our conversation had been suggestive, flirty, or sexual. It was not, unless tarot gets you all hot and bothered. And it's not even like he eased into it or anything, no no no - he went straight for the asshole, no lube or nothin', which leads me to believe getting fucked in the ass by this guy in real life would be just as dry. What the fuck, man. What the fuck. 

Pro tip: If you wanna put a dick in my butt, I need to be sufficiently seduced. This message is the equivalent of bending over ass out in the Circle K parking lot and waiting for some random passerby to give it a quick poke. Which is totally fine if you're into that, but that's a hard no from me, boy.

Anywhom, toodles, I'm going to bed.

Whew.

My Shitty Reading List: Twilight

No shit dude, I fucking kid you not, I have read the Twilight books probably dozens of times each, over the last decade+.

I don't like them. I'm not saying that to prove how edgy and different I am. They're legitimately shit ass books. The books I wrote are probably worse, but in my defense, I didn't have a millionaire editor or a billion dollar publisher with a vested interest in my success. Woohoo, ANARCHYYYY.  At least mine have a story, and not just a smokin' hot vampire dude in khakis being uselessly hot on every page. Edward Cullen is hot. Like, so hot. OMG, look at him, being all hot. His skin is so cold, but jesus fuck, he is HAWT.

So yeah, I'm not a fan.

You'd be totally within your right to ask my snotty, snobby ass why I even read them, if I hate them so much.

This is an Abstinence Only Zone 

Except I don't hate them. I don't like them, and I stand by that statement, but I don't hate them.

So, the story is, I had a daughter who was absolutely obsessed. My significant other, being very learned in the way of vampire literature as it existed up until that point, was very concerned about young daughter's impressionable mind at the time. Up until that point, vampires tended to be kinda slutty. The French Maids of the supernatural world, I guess. Daughter was around 12 at the time, and naughty vampire lovin' was forbidden. Significant Other decided it was my responsibility to read them first....

Honestly, daughter shouldn't have been allowed to read this garbage anyway because the toxic relationship between Bella and Edward was probably more problematic than any vampire sexy time could be, but since there were no throbbing members, no bouncing breasts or erect nipples, I decided "ehh, fuck it" and let her have at it.

And so, I kept reading. Every time she got a new book, I had to read it first. You know, because I'm a good mom or something, I guess. But secretly, I was sorta loving the cringiness of it all. I enjoyed the recoil I felt in my spine when Edward told Bella she was his brand of heroin. I mean, seriously, who fucking says that? And more importantly, what woman hears that and thinks to herself, "Great googly moogly, that sure is romantic!" and swoons?

 Vomit. Vomit coming out of my ears, oozing out of my nostrils. Vomit, everywhere,

Oh, but it gets better. Supposedly. At least, the little brightly colored tabs Dear Daughter has scattered throughout this copy of Eclipse would imply that there are enjoyable things in this book, but I swear to every god who had ever existed, I cannot find them. There's literally NOTHING memorable here.

So why would I keep reading, you might be asking right about now. And the only truth I can give you is I don't fucking know. Maybe it was just easy. I have this other book called House of Leaves - it's brilliant, but I've not finished it once in the 15 years I've owned it because it's complicated and weird and every time I had to put it down to do real life shit that interrupted my reading time, I would forget where I was and what was going on, and I'd have to start over. 

Seriously, WTF is this book, Mark?

My poor brain, which I'd once believed to be a proud and noble beast, had disintegrated into a sad, mushy pile of SpongeBob reruns and diapers and sight words and crayons. I had no time to pretend to be deep or intellectual or philosophical. As a matter of fact, I had to go look up "philosophical" just now to make sure I was even fucking spelling it right. The brainrot is real, holy fuck. I used to be good at this shit. 

Anyhoo, yeah. I think that's what it was. Twilight was easy. If I put this dumbass book down for 3 months and came back to it after the little one was finally potty trained, I ould pick right back up where I left off and know exactly what was going on. Edward was a vampire. Bella smelled like heroin. He was kind of a dick to her, but he looked really hot in rich people clothes so it was okay. Oh no, Bella in danger? Edward save! YAY! The End. 

I suppose I should have included a spoiler warning just then, but if you haven't read them after 15 years, you're probably gonna be okay. 

The shameful part in all of this is, there's a new book in the series that...basically it's just the first book all over again, but from Hottie Eddie's point of view. And I really, really, really want to read it. It's like that car crash you saw on your way to work yesterday, where one car was flipped over on its top in a ditch and the other was on fire, and you're just trying to find out who the fuck died because you fucking KNOW someone died in that fucked up shit, but you don't wanna be the asshole who goes on facebook and asks about it.

That's me right now. I'm that asshole.

Someone please give me that book. 

Back On That Tarot Bullshit

 Bonus: this one isn't for a made up couple, or even a real peepol with fake names. 

Nope, this time, you get...me. 

The question was - "Universe, you know what I want, and you know how that's working out. My question is not how to make things happen, or how to better accomplish my original goal, but whether I should even waste my time with it."

Aaaaand, I think I got a positive answer. I was not at all prepared for that, considering the circumstances. I was legit at a letting go point...still kinda am, but maybe letting go is key.

I know that's vague. I'm not gonna make it clear. 

It starts with the 9 of Swords and The Lovers. Obviously, it's a relationship that's been bothering me. Duh. But with this 9, most of the anxiety is residual. Leftover garbage from old experiences. The 7 of Pentacles above shows slow growth,  but that's not a bad thing. Some things cannot and should not be rushed. The Ace of Pentacles is an unknown, likely in regards to money. I'm poor white trash, so that makes sense. Money makes the world go 'round, money makes things happen, but where the fuck am I gonna get it right now?

The Kings hugging the sides were unexpected. Honestly, this looks like a change of heart. There's a shift from thinking to doing. Okay, okay, not too shabby.

This last row is kinda weird though.

Wtf. Wtf. 

My worldly influence is security and foundation (10 of Pentacles). My hope/fear is the unknown (High Priestess). My hurdle or obstacle is making sure my choices are sound (hahahahahahah) and my final destination is...taking a leap? But it's a victorious, spur-of-the-moment leap. A leap that is supported by all. 

This doesn't really clear anything up. Not really.  Who out there isn't afraid of the unknown? Who isn't afraid of making the wrong choices? I think, maybe, I have all these money and family cards because most of my life has been about doing what's best for others, but not for me. I think a lot of those same people, though, would see it differently. I never did enough for them. 

Growth is a long, slow process. I can't expect miracles to occur overnight. And more than that, I think getting over the part of me that wastes time trying to please people who won't ever be pleased is necessary.  

I just have to trust that things will work out.

I Am Beginning To Feel Like an Anomoly

One of my friends was bitching about how his gross ass former roommate used to inflict unsolicited stories of his sexual conquests upon him. It was actually one of the reasons he moved out of that house....not only was roomie batshit insane, but it was just difficult to stomach all the gross places that man's dick had been.

Said friend of mine is apparently blind to the irony of it as he loads me up with unwanted details of his own sexual past.

You fucked a ballerina? Yay for you, I guess.

Your ex girlfriend used to fart uncontrollably when she orgasmed? Golly, that's interesting.

I've never cheated on anyone. Most of my friends have stories of being cheated on, being cheated with, or cheating. I've been cheated on. My ex husband had a thing for very young girls. Another one was just a creep in general - I found literally YEARS worth of cringy, neckbeardy, and frankly pathetic things he'd attempted over the course of our relationship, and his excuse? "That's just what unhappy people do."

No, sir. No. that's not what unhappy people do. That's just what YOU do. You, and every other loser you claim to hate, but only because they're better at it than you.

Relationships are kind of gross. Your boyfriend has a whole spank bank of women who are younger, hotter, skinner than you are. He hasn't given you an orgasm in months or years, and his idea of romance is bending you over the bed for a whopping 4 minutes without any kisses, touches, foreplay. And then he gets mad because you never wanna dO iT. 

Casual sex is even more gross. Like, I don't see anything wrong with it, if that's what you're into, but I prefer fucking people who at least like me as a human being. Plus, you know, those assholes are even less likely to bother trying to seduce you or anything. They've watched too much porn, where some blonde with fake boobs will happily get plowed in uncomfortable positions by multiple dicks while getting spit on and occasionally choked...unlike you, you fucking pruuuuude. Why can't you just be a cum sock and stfu already?

My single girlfriends complain about their dildos and stuff...like yeah, okay, you get to orgasm, but there's no passion, no fire. Meanwhile, my married friends  get none of that as well, but also don't even get the orgasm.  At least when you're fucking a rando, you get the thrill of not knowing if he's gonna murder you directly after. You get the suspense of not knowing if he's going to be another dud in a long line of disappointments. You get the excitement of maybe this won't be as horrible as every other time.

Pieces of Lyrics

A massive FUCK YOU is hiding somewhere in the back of my head, and I wanna expose every single dark, nasty, gross thing to the light, and watch the ones these things belong to disintegrate into ash.

Except I don't want to be that person today. There are other things that are already light, but caught in the shadows of the muck in my head. 

There are certain lyrics that just stand out when I'm feeling icky, reminding me that other people have yucky thoughts and turn them into beautiful things. It doesn't have to be self destructive. I'm not a time bomb.

They almost make sense, when strung together. To me, anyway, but I know what I'm feeling when I hear them in my head so maybe it's just a hot mess to anyone else.

Just like Heaven.
Show me yours and I'll show you mine.
I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert
But you came over me, like some holy rite.

That's when we fell in love, but not the first time

Dress to suppress all kinds of sorrow.
Gain again what they want to steal
Wheel to the storm and fly.
I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze
But if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me, too.
I am ready to follow you even though I don't know where.
I have stood here before, inside the pouring rain
These will just be places to me now.
Pins and needles
As the hours pass
How am I the lucky one?
Love's an excuse to get hurt.
Like a good book, I can't put this day back

And maybe you can keep me from ever being happy, but you're not gonna stop me from having fun.

Man Hating Spite Selfies & More

Okay.

So.

I was putting together a photo album from what's left of about 6 sudden uprootings, over the span of...I guess 4 years? I lost newborn photos, birth announcements, sonograms, etc, but I managed to hold onto a shoebox full of photos from the mid 2000s, amid all the chaos. I noticed that I'm not really in any of them. Everyone else is, but I'm legit forgotten about. I'm so glad smartphones and selfies are a thing now and I'm no longer just the legendary GhostMom whose presence can only ever be assumed, never confirmed. Apparently, this is a thing that is fairly common for moms. We tend to be the ones taking the photos of the kids, the cute moments, the holidays, the relatives, and we end up becoming background noise.

Anywhom, I was vaguely complaining about this lack of care yesterday (sausages were involved...don't ask) and I mentioned in passing how mothers get the short end of the family photo stick when suddenly...

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I'm told that this is just another opportunity for me to bitch about men, which apparently, I LOOOOVE to do.

As a side note, did you know that, as long as you LOL and announce that you're just kidding, anything you say or do MUST be recognized as drop dead hilarious by the offended party, or else it's proof that he/she is a monster who cannot take a harmless joke? It's the cousin of the "I'm not racist, but..." disclaimer, as well as the "...some of my best friends are gay!" clause. 

And, well....

I guess it's sorta true. I do love bitching about shitty people. I have a great dislike for "not like other girls" people. You know, that one girl, the only girl in the whole entire fucking world, who plays video games. Or watches sports. Or reads. Or hates the color pink. Or enjoys some "nerdy" hobby. Or hates shopping. I'm sure you've met her. She's a unique and precious gem in a world filled with vapid, superficial, materialistic women. Pick her!

It's also true that I loathe cheaters. Especially the kind who  make it seem like forgiveness and reconciliation is something owed rather than earned. "I know you found my dating profile, baaaabe, but jeez! It's already been 2 weeks, time to get over it already!" You can really sense their deep and profound remorse at having been caught for the 12th time. This time, it's different. This time, they mean it. 

I suppose it's true that I bitch about men a lot here - but in all fairness, no woman has ever sent me a dick pic with the expectation that  I would be an instant and easy bang, and then call me a slut when passed on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. No woman has ever demanded I leave the hospital just after giving birth so that their drunk buds could come and spill beer all over my carpet, blast the TV until 6am  while I sob in bed, in pain, with a brand new baby, because how dare I interrupt their weekend plans. No woman has ever left bruises on me, repeatedly, or sprayed bleach in my eyes. As soon as one does, I'll let y'all know.

Ahh but, you know how I am. I just enjoy bitching for no reason. None whatsoever. 

But you know what actually is kinda funny, though? When someone somehow relates to the asshole in your story, and it mirrors exactly who they are. They'll do anything to shift the focus off of the reflection.

Like that "not like other girls" girl. You're just jealous that she's so interesting and all the boys love and respect her so so soooo much. You're just like other girls. Haters gonna hate.

Or that dude who looks like a doting father, because his baby mama made sure to take lots of pictures of him with the kids when he wasn't acting like they were the worst mistake of his life. Clearly, you just hate men and this is the only reason why anyone would even bother to bring it up.

Or that cheater who became trustworthy overnight, through no effort of his/her own. Obviously you just don't understand the power of love, where they can go and fuck someone else and it's okay because they were battling personal demons and totally not the consequences of their own actions. No no no, truly, theirs is a love story of fairy tale proportions.

But bitching is an art, and I like to think I'm getting fairly talented with it. Yesterday, it was lack of thoughtfulness when it comes to making sure your child's mother is represented in the family album. Tomorrow, who knows?

Point is, I'm glad selfies exist. I know  a lot of people see it as vanity, but I take a lot of comfort in knowing that if nothing else, I can at least rely on myself to get a couple of decent photos with...my high schooler on graduation day. Christmas morning around the tree. Anniversaries. You know, dumb things.

An Apprecation Post

I was going to come here and gripe about my male friends again, but I got to thinking about it, and I've changed my mind. 

Instead, I want to take a moment to praise one of my best friends in the whole wild world for treating me like an actual friend, and not as an opportunity to get laid.

Not once, in the history of our friendship, has he sent me a dick pic.

I enjoy how we can make totally inappropriate jokes with each other and he doesn't interpret it as an invitation to make EVERYTHING inappropriate.

I like how we can talk about sex and sex related things without it actually getting sexual because we're real life adults, with real life issues, and sometimes we just need to talk about things. If my boobs hurt, I can say that without it turning into a conversation about my boobs. He's not squeamish and uncomfortable when I mention my period. 

I also love the way he's interested in me as a human being, and not just a walking, talking coochie. We share music. We talk politics. I think I know more about his ex girlfriends and schooling and housing and work and friends than I probably should, but I'm here for it when he needs to vent because I love him and that's what friends do and I know he'd do the same for me because he has before.

He's not here pretending to be interested in my thoughts and feelings and little problems and big problems just because he thinks feigning interest is going to get him laid. This mother fucker actually seems to enjoy talking to me and hearing what I have to say and holy fucking shit, that is refreshing. 

Things aren't perfect between us. We bicker, we fight. He's got a very reactive personality type and when he's in that zone, he can be downright insulting and nasty. I've cried over him more than once, full blown, snot faced, choking sob crying, and I've had to block him when he's at his worst because I'm that sketchy ass fight-or-flight bitch.

But I miss him when he's gone. We're both really fucked up people with a lot of fucked up history, and the fact that I have boobs isn't even on the radar. 

The connection we have is so much deeper than anything I've ever had with a guy outside of a relationship before.

I plan on keeping him forever.