Thursday, March 11, 2010

A list of sorts....for your reading pleasure (aka torture)....

I’m just not feeling paragraphs today. They’re so predictable. You’re getting bullets today – I’m feeling sassy.

• It’s official. My calves are indeed really getting smaller. I thought it was a fluke when my favorite “yah I’m hot, stop staring at me” knee-high high-heeled black boots kept falling down one day. (as a side note – that reminds me - my boss dubbed these boots CFM boots. (come f*ck me) And yes – that is sexual harassment at its finest but I let it go since I think it was a backhanded compliment and I was desperate) I haven’t worn said black boots since the day they kept sliding down – what’s the point? I replaced them with my brown boots – these have always been much tighter. Until yesterday. The problem you ask? Just one calf in this pair….meaning now not only do I have skinny calves but one is bigger than the other. I broke every fashion rule known to man – one slouchy boot AND white capris before Memorial Day. Alert Clinton and Stacy! I looked more like an oompa loompa yesterday than a MILF. I was really going for MILF. *sigh*

• I have 4 boobs today (well really 6 if you count my back boobs). I caught a glimpse of myself in the door walking into work today. What the holy hell is that piece of flesh above my boob/bra that looks like it’s inflated? Well duh – it’s your 3rd and 4th boobs. Nice. Apparently no MILF attitude today either. More like MILD. (Mom I’d Like to Drown)

• Sheniqua came out of the closet last night. It’s official. She’s a lesbian. I’m a bit shocked. I could have sworn her and Drazil were doing the Dominatrix thing together. But nah, last night Sheniqua found a “lovah” – on my inner thighs. Last time I looked Sheniqua had hearts in her eyes and was singing Dolly Parton’s “I Honestly Love You” song. I nearly puked.

• The man’s burnt weiner is fine. For now. Until he weighs in again. I can’t be responsible for what happens then.

• Last night I was a good mom and made puppy chow for my daughter and her class today. Have you all made that? Do you know the ingredients? This snack is seriously a food that you get fat from literally looking at it. It’s deadly. FOUR CUPS of powdered sugar. It might as well be meth. ONE CUP of peanut butter. That’s about 1000 calories on it’s own. ONE entire stick of butter. Paula Deen would love that. ONE bag of chocolate chips. AND then the sugary cereal you coat it all with. Who made this recipe up? Only dogs should eat it because you go into sugar convulsions with the first bite. At one point I wanted to sit down and figure the calories but I thought my mind might explode if I really saw the number so I didn’t. (Yes, I ate about 10 pieces of the poison….it was nearly orgasmic.) Drazil made me do it.

• I read more Eckhart last night. I had more than a few epiphanies. I can feel myself getting quiet inside. I can feel my soul searching for answers. This is the hard part. The part where you realize you’re on the brink of a huge change – standing on a cliff….and you either jump knowing something will break your fall or run like hell out of fear. I’m done running. I’ll take the fall.

• For some strange reason I thought of my Dad this morning….and the fact that I barely speak to or see him…and he lives one mile from me. I admit I make that personal. I turn it into “he doesn’t love me enough and he doesn’t want to talk to me.” That is the story my ego makes up – it’s become my identity. My belief. It is a lie though. The facts are my Dad loves me. My Dad rarely talks to anyone – he just isn’t social. He talks to me when I see him but he isn’t capable of seeking me out. If he did and could change – would that be enough for me? Would he be my Dad then or someone else? What would I find to fault about him then? It is not personal. I cannot make him the Dad my head thinks he should be. He is who he is and by wasting time wishing it was different I miss the beauty that the real him is.

• Lastly….and I ask this with much contempt. What, girls, is your idea of foreplay? I ask this because as my husband feels and looks better he’s getting even more spunky (aka smart-ass-y). I lay down last night….I sigh…I say “I’m so tired”……..he rolls over, serious as serious can be, and says to me…….”Do you want me to screw you?” What just happened there? Am I dreaming? How did I just land in hell when I swore I was my bed a minute ago? Who is this peckerhead smirking at me again? What is up with the 24/7 smirk? Your life isn’t that good buddy. Here – let me prove it to you – let’s recall your burnt dick. He might as well have asked if I’d like a dutch oven treatment. IDIOT. The worst part is he thinks he’s so cute I can’t help laughing at him. That’s the worse – when I want to smack him across the face but I find myself wrapping my arms around him and laughing….I hate that he can do that to me….but I love him more for it.

♥ Smooches & Hugs ♥

♪ Life isn't as serious as my mind makes it out to be. ♪

♣ Everything always passes, and everything is already okay. Stay in the place where you can see that & nothing will resist you. ♣


Kristin said...

I still hate your husband for losing so much so fast, but you gotta admire his spirit. Burnt weiner and all.

As for the multiple boobs, it happens anytime I try to wear a "demi-cup" bra. In theory they are seriously sexy. In practice, after a few pregnancies and some breastfeeding and gaining and losing and aging... well, not so much.

My dad is also really antisocial - unless you happen to be a golf buddy of his. We always say if my mom goes first (unlikely, she's a health nut) we would never hear from him again. He loves us, but he's pretty happy in Florida and not at all inclined to bother himself to travel and see us. Boogerhead.

Have a good day!

Dinnerland said...

I love the sex story!! That would have been a turn on to me... so I guess we'll all different, now don't get all guilty that 'do you want to screw?' didn't turn you on, girly. Your husband is a lucky guy for sure-- and I am sure he knows it.

Amy W. said...

Yeah, Tracey will say sweet things like that to me too F*%^...and I have to say "I AM A FUC^ing LADY MISTER! " I dont know why her forgets. Was it perhaps that I farted last night and asked him to come over and smell it? I am actually not that into foreplay and would like to get it over with so I could get back to my reality television. hahahah.

anywhoozle...are you wanting us to feel sorry for you and your skinny calves?



Keelie said...

Oh my GOSH! So much to say about your blog! I so appreciate your comments on my blog and I finally had a second to go track down some of my faithful commenters. LOVE your blog!I kept thinking "DRAZIL? Okaaay." when your named popped up at my blog. Now that I've read who Drazil is..brilliant. And you are hysterical. Love the humor.

That is such a sad thought.the burnt wiener? So sad. And to think, he still wanted to "be there" for you. Wow. ;)


Jenny said...

I'm totally with Amy on the skinny calves thing. I can't feel sorry for you. You just get to buy new boots!

Men are just 14yr old boys. I can't believe that with a burnt wiener he still wanted to do it. lol

Drazil said...

Kristin - does it bother you that your dad is anti-social. I can't seem to get past it.
Vanessa - I may have been slightly turned on but I pretended I wasn't - remember - mama tired!
Amy W - I responded on your blog. I about died when I read what you wrote. And no - no pity for my skinny calves - but can you mourn the loss of my boots with me please?

Drazil said...

Keelie and Jenny - um - he's a guy - he'd still try to do it if I burned his weiner straight off.
Keelie - thanks for following - I appreciate it!

Julie, The Accidental Fat Chick said...

LMAO, you totally crack me up!

I'm having bra hell of my own... either I get the extras or I'm swimming in em - NOTHING fits right!

As for the husband and his burnt weiner - thats soooo typical. I always say my husband could have an axe sticking out of his head & still wanna do it! A walking hormone, I swear it. lol :)

kagead said...

So much to envy in one post-
• Skinny calves
• Not one, but two pairs of high boots and the promise of more on the horizon
• Single digit amounts of boobs (if I didn't stuff my puppies into rocket launchers, I'd have 10 or 12, easy)
• Anti-social parents (don't get me wrong, I absolutely ADORE my parents, but on pretty much any given day I have probably spoken with both of them and my sister by 9 am. Multiple times.
• Sex (let's just leave it at that)

If you now tell me that you chowed down on pizza and chocolate and still lost weight, I'll have to hunt you down and hurt you and to be honest, I'd really miss your blog.

Sandy Lee said...

I looove puppy chow. Sugar overdose is so fun. My kids grew up but I secretly buy Krispix every Christmas in the hopes that they will help me make it!

Strange today-I read your post in Google Reader and then when I came to your blog it was blank except for the title. Guess the computer at work can't seem to figure out colors.

And just so you have something to look forward to, guys still say the same foreplay words when they are 56. It is such a turn on!

Kristin said...

Drazil, re the antisocial dad thing, sometimes it makes me crazy and sometimes it doesn't bother me at all. I can't quite figure out if it's laziness or what. But he makes an effort with my kids when we see him, so that makes me feel better. And I did end up marrying a guy who's pretty antisocial, so I guess it couldn't bother me tooooo much.

It bugs me that my dad doesn't feel a need to see us, or call us. He's genuinely delighted to see us when we visit him and my mom, but he doesn't make the effort to come to us. I talk to my mom every day, at least once, and even though she and my dad live in the same house I rarely chat with him and when I do it's just for a minute.

At any rate, he definitely isn't going to change at the age of 61. So I just try to accept him for who he is and know he loves me. In his own antisocial way.

LDswims said...

re the antisocial dad thing - my dad was like that, too. But I discovered in my late 20's that if I took the time to reach out to him, he'd reward me with interest. I thought it should be a two-way street, like it was with my mom, but he was raised with a different mentality. Anywho, I am glad I did get over myself and reach out to him - if I'd waited, I never would have learned anything as he died at 61 (I was 31). Like you said, there is the dad your brain thinks that you should have and then there's the dad you have in reality. It's worth it to reconcile those two...even if it's hard to do.

Luckily, I married a man more like my grandpa than my dad. My grandpa was mister social butterfly and loved everyone - and everyone loved him back.