Resolutions Are Stupid


Here it is, the first of a New Year. (Have you ever noticed that you can hear the capitalization in those two words?) So. A New Year. And I realized that I hadn’t blogged in almost a year. And of course a thousand million things have changed.

And while I ABSOLUTE hate the thought that setting a list of resolutions is basically like writing a failure to do list that will just make me feel like I am letting myself down all over again- I do want to do better at writing. And hopefully that means that I will be able to do it easily by not expecting or promising of/to myself.

So- since last February.

The heartbreak that I was so certain that I would never get over has settled into a rather thin throbbing. I’ve been able to pick up the pieces and move on. Doing my best to find a way into the world that has nothing to do with the things that I thought would be happening to me when I was going through all the angst and pain. There were times that during that the last year that I came very close to just laying down and not bothering to get back up. Not in a suicidal way, just in a total not wanting to care anymore.

Thankfully, I have some of the best friends on the planet that wouldn’t let me. And also, my sister. My sister who refused to let me sob myself into dehydration. We actually got into a rather large fight about it, one of the few we’ve had since we were teenagers. While I will admit that I was really pissed with her for butting into my business, I can not imagine how much worse off I would have been without her strength and her loyalty. And her ass kicking. She will never read this because she doesn’t read anything on the internet, I still want it out into the ether that my sister, Julia, is the best person on the known world. I love you.

I finally took the NCE for my MT license. And I failed. Not so much like I bombed it- I only missed passing by 15 points. But it actually is ok. Not as good as it would have been had I been able to -pass- it. But that whole stress relief thing of it not weighing on me makes me feel a little better in general. And I am really hopeful about my chances for next time. On top of that, I actually have a job already lined up to be doing what I spent 13K on.
And the few times I have been able to practice what I went to school for, I actually have been feeling wonderful.

I have managed to cut out a few people that were continuously holding me back. I mean, there is one that I technically can not NEVER talk to again, however I am limiting contact with her so that I can manage to control the amount of pain and chaos she tends to cause in her vortex. But the other ones that were just barnacling to my underbelly are now floating in the jettison of….frak. I ran out of nautical terms. Their gone. The. End.

And- not that is supposed to be that important and I am doing my very best not get all *squee* about it…. I met someone.

Let’s not go into that right now.

Mostly, in this New Year, I am just trying to be a better person in the long run, and happier in the short run. Not that I plan on running. Cause screw that all exercise-cut vice-give up on stuff resolutions.

Also… this chick…Yeah I might have just fallen a little in like with her.

14 Fucks I Refuse To Give

And I LOVE THE SHIT OUT OF MYSELF…. from now on. That’s my only true resolution- to love myself more.


Happy New Year, y’all!

The Lyrics Made Me Do It


I need help. I need someone, foe-friend-family, to find a way to help me because I have a burning question that NEEDS answering now.

Okay. *deep breath* Here it goes.

If there are conditions at you job that causes you to, quite literally, want to kill people and then you do, can you claim workmen’s comp to cover your lawyering?

I am very serious. (Do you see me lack of contraction, can you not hear me say this in my robotic Data voice? That is because I am serious. Fah’reelz!)

This is a vital question that needs answering before the end of the month, because I am nearly positive that is only how long I can quell the homicidal tendencies that are roiling beneath my heart like a geyser waiting to gush forth in a frantic display of slash and hack that would make both Michael Myers and Freddy take a step back and say, “daaaayum!”

It’s not the stress from outside of work (ie Those are things I can’t change and so I stuff them down and away and into the deep darky darkness.

It’s not the work load, which waxes and wanes, constantly inconsistent. Oftentimes, I am scrambling to get everything done by 6 am, and then have about an hour to catch my breath. Sometime, I suffer through the nights where I am done by 2 am, done with busy work by 2:45, have helped mainlodge with dusting and stuff of the lobby by 3:30, and then study from 4-7am. And do the 1st paperwork, or at least get it started. These nights are more exhausting, but I can maintain.

 It’s not the cuntastic chick that likes to throw everyone under the bus, then back up said metaphysical bus and run you over again. The chick who is living with our boss, but nothing is going on. Except she wants him to move to a different slot so she can have his job. The chick who had a big old crush on another guy in another department but once he turned her down she now is looking for ways to get him fired. The chick who actually sent one of the mainlodgers over to my side and had the girl ask me why I didn’t like the cunt. To which I replied, Why did she want to go to prom? Seriously, the chick is a year younger than me. Gah! (don’t worry, there’s a few blogs worth on her coming).

 It’s not the matter of me literally working 20 hour 4 days a week, sleeping less than 4 hours 3 days a week and forgetting where my damned feet are half the time. Or trying to remember if I ate. Or thinking about the last time I had something besides AMP, 5 hour pomegranate, or Mt Dew to drink.  And exactly where is my car? Why am I looking for a green truck when I drive a black one? And seriously, lady at the Denny’s, you call me young lady one more time and I will spit on the two pennies I leave you as a tip. (ß that’s me being irrationally cranky. In case you couldn’t tell.)

It’s not even the weather, which has been so bitterly cold and icy that there are moments I think that throwing away my whole life and becoming like Kerouac; a hermit type nomad on wheels. Going anywhere the breeze takes me, as long as that breeze is about 72 degrees.

No. The main reason I am going to need bail money is the god forsaken radio channel that is being piped into the lobby. Now, yes, my sweet little lodad following cherubs, I can see the correlation between all the other stress and this one thing irking me continuously. I can see it because I sleep more than 6 hours yesterday. However, it does not stop it from being the main focus of my intense wrath! I’m wrathful! (ohh spell check didn’t get that one…wrathful is a word? Huh. Cool)

I am a candidate for ASS. And no, I don’t mean the luscious curves that are likened to a frozen dairy concoction that cajoles all the males to the open space where children play. (*cheese*) I mean, Auditory Stress Syndrome. It sometimes also classified as misophonia. And usually affects people with PTSD. (Yeah, you didn’t think I knew shit did you?) It just means that certain sounds make me want to slap the stupid off people. It’s usually has to do with chewing sounds, or people who scrape their teeth while they eat. Sometimes it’s the rubbing of fabric against other fabric as someone is shifting and twitching too much. At times the squeaking of brakes or the screeching of children. It only really bothers me when I am already cranky and tired.

But the radio station at work is really really really making me want to beat small children with baby seals while anally raping old men with the canes of their great-grandmothers!

Here is an example what an hour sounds like at work:

(let’s keep in mind that I just got dumped, Valentines is around the corner, today would have been my anniversary with the Manfriend, and I can NOT turn the radio channel, or the volume to what is playing and so I am S T U C K)

  • Love Will Keep Us Together        The Captain & Tenille                     3:20
    Hopelessly Devoted To You         Olivia Newton John                         3:03
    I Drove All Night                               Cyndi Lauper                                      3:59
    Home                                                    Phillip Phillips                                     3:58 (which by the by, totally thought was Mumford and Sons)
    I Won’t Give Up                                               Jason Mraz                                         4:32
    This Kiss                                               Faith Hill                                               2:11
    Already There                                   Lonestar                                              4:16 (my wedding song, by the by)
    Silver Spring                                       Fleetwood Mac                                                5:35
    Everything Little Thing                   Bob Marley                                         4:30
    Try                                                          P!nk                                                       4:10
    My Heart Will Go On                       Celine Dion                                         4:14
    Because You Loved Me                 Celine Dion                                         4:30(yes, back to back Celine *gag*)
    I Put Your Picture Away                 Sheryl Crow/Kid Rock                     3:04
    Love the One You’re With            Stephen Stills                                     3:04
    2 Outta 3 Ain’t Bad                          Meatloaf                                             5:02
    Calling All Angels                              Train                                                      3:43
    I’m All Out of Love                           Air Supply                                            4:33

Seriously? The Gods really are stabbing with lyrical malice.

 Now, my math be off but I think that it’s one hour, eight minutes and eighteen seconds of this audible crud leaking into my brain pan. That’s just 1/8 of my shift. By the end of the month, I would have dealt with 1600 hours of songs like this. Reminding me constantly that I have loved and lost and am now all alone.

People are going to be maimed. And am I really to be at fault? No! No I say! I blame the Condo Federation (I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but OMFG how cool would that be? My fangirl heart squealed a little.) who voted on the radio app that plays this crap!

So, back to the question? Does workmen’s comp cover mental issues?

Leave your answer in the comments.

And eff Valentine’s day. In the face. With a spork covered in herpes.


Shit Sundae


Ever have that day when things start off bad? Then constantly, consistently, they get worse? And just when you are sure that you’re below the damn barrel, you find a way to top off a horrid day with more awful? Sure you have, everyone has. This, my darling FriendsFamillyFollowers, will from now on be known as a Shit Sundae day.

My SS day actually started on Sunday, but that’s another blog. (No, really it is. And it’s here! [Did I just shamelessly plug my own blog on my blog…yes. Yes, I did. Suck it up, buttercup, cause dat’s how I’s roll!]) But the actually sundae wasn’t constructed until Tuesday night. With the base being that it took me 20 minutes to get out of employee parking at job number two because of the ice and snow that fell all Tuesday night and most of Wednesday. And I got to battle the freaking parking lot IN my truck with no heat. (Yes, yes I AM still harping on that because …guess what? I live in effin’ Wisconsin! And when you have no heat, you can die. It’s true! Google that shit.) And then it took me nearly 2 hours (a trip that takes 25-35 minutes-tops!) to get home because even the main roads were complete shite. So shite, in fact, that I nearly got plowed by a damned semi who’s trailer wasn’t under complete and utter control when it switched lanes in next to me…so I came home pissed and scared and anxious and a huge ball of ugh!

Which was compounded Wednesday night when it took me forty five minutes (I typed it out so you could see that this is not a typo…not 4 to 5 minutes,…but 45…3/4 of an hour!) to GET INTO MY TRUCK. Why? Because the damned door were frozen shut! Frozen. Shut. FROZEN SHUT! So, I tried to pop the hatch so I could climb through. Which would have worked had I not somehow gotten the damned keys frozen into the lock of the damned back! Truck 1, Lissa nothing. Also, if you are keeping score, it’s Winter Shennigans a Gajillion, Lissa…nothing. Then it took me an hour to get to work once I used deicer windshield washer fluid and some sort of aerosol grease thing and lots of cursing and kicking the damned thing and nearly breaking my hand and key to get it out of the lock. Then I was exhausted and grumpy and had, quite literally, the dumbest questions ever asked of me.

Ex1 If there are six of us going to the strip club, should we take one taxi or two? Because we don’t want to get robbed because of the additional person fee. (dafuq, do I look like I know Chinese algebra?)

Ex2 Can we check out on time but leave our stuff in the room because we don’t want to leave it in the truck during our afternoon meeting? (Yeah sure, we’ll just have housekeeping clean around your shit.)

Ex3 I need to move to another room because my wife and I are fighting, but since I now have two rooms and it’s 130 am can I get a group rated discount plus the emergency check in rate? (First…two does not make a group. It makes a couple. Which is what you and your wife should be acting like! Second, dafuq is the emergency check in rate? We have a slight discount when you check in butt ass late because you’re expected to be out of the room in less than 9 hours, but it does not have such a lofty title. Go away.)


I wanted coffee. And warmth. And my sister. Who sucks because she did not answer her phone or the door.  And I thought to myself, “Self. You need to shovel.” Because I did need to shovel my side of the yard and drive way. And when I was done, I was going to call Manfriend and make the joke that the real reason he moved to Indiana was so he wouldn’t have to shovel.

Only…no phone. Now, I knew I had just been on it because I called my sister from her back porch and immediately went to shovel. Which means…no. No. No, I did not just lose my phone in the snow somehow. Except the part where I did. The cold sucked the battery dead in a matter of minutes so calling it was no help. And do you know what’s more fun than shoveling when you are cramping from the Painters and Decorators in below freezing weather? Re-shoveling everything you just shoveled with a laundry basket with holes in the side so that you can mine for you freaking $300 phone in below freezing temperatures!

And the ass cherry sitting on the summit of the crap chocolate topping that covers my shit sundae? I had to borrow money from the Manfriend to buy an alarm clock so that I could get up to go to work! Yeah. That might be my favorite part because now I feel even MORE indebted to other people covering my ass. Again.


(Other than the part, which I guess could be the hairy nuts on this SS, that I know have lost photos and texts that really mattered alot to me- encouragement from friends, old love texts from the Manfriend, pics of the charglings…)

Let’s not mention the guy who tried to get into the office last night that had to be escorted off property, the (and I am not exaggerating) 15 Chinese kids that wanted to check in at 2am but each to pay a portion of the bill on 15 different credit cards, the fact that I lost control of the truck on the way to work and almost hit a cop causing him to give me a field sobriety test (because the icy ass roads around hilly curves in a truck without all weather tires on it couldn’t have been the real reason!). Granted, I did almost hit him so perhaps he was just being testy. Or the fact that I can’t get another phone until Tuesday, because US Cellular doesn’t know how to have a consistent approach to idiots dropping their phones into snow banks and having the magic snow trolls devour it. And let’s not mention the angry, bitterness that I am doing my best to swallow over some other bullshit.

Shit. Sundae.


You Guys Suck


This week was…fuck. Why should I censor? It’s my blog. It sucked. It was horrible and misery filled and one of the worst weeks of my life.
This was the week that my daughter would have been born. And while I went all girl and thanked those that had helped me, in any measure, since I lost her on Facebook, this particular rant is about those that should have cared. And should have been there for me this week.

1) Momma– yeah. I’m not even really going to go into depth about how much her total lack of concern wasn’t surprising because for myriad reasons- like we don’t ever talk about things that are bothering us in my family ( on her side). That your mess is YOUR MESS and don’t you dare air anything but a smile for the public. Hell, this blog would give her conniptions. Too bad she doesn’t know how the interwebz works. Conniptions might be fun to watch. But I still thought that, as my FUCKING MOTHER who knew how much I wanted a child, would have worked up enough motherly instinct to at least text me her patented,

“U ok? Luv, your mom”

(like I don’t have her saved in my phone! Does she think it’s like mail with no return address so she has to add a signature? See! Doesn’t understand technology at all!)

2) Manfriend’s mom– she seemed so damned excited when we announced it to her. She seemed genuinely happy for us. Hell, I thought she LIKED me! I even sent her a text to remind her that he might need some extra love on the exact date because he might be really out of it. Her response was an “ok”, dismissive and singularly cutting in its lack of follow up. I even tagged her in the damned post and she couldn’t be bothered to like it? Especically since her brother, who wasn’t tagged and whom I’ve not shared a single word with in 6 months DID? She’ll share every misguided right wing political thing ever invented on her FB but ignore me, ignore the loss of a grandchild? That hurt! Still does. And, well duh, it pisses me off.

3) Lastly Manfriend– no contact. None. Not a phone call, text, fb, email. No flowers. No card. Not even a freaking post card! I called. I texted him. I ached for one kind word. Hell, ONE word- just from his actual mouth into my ear. I could have used a hand holding, a hug, a surprise visit to make sure I was ok. Does he just not care? Is he relieved because now he’s not stuck with me in his life? I had such a roller coaster the whole day where I went from chilly anger to fiery hurt. I still am. Only not it’s blending into heated pissed-off-ness. I more than just want to throttle him! Now I know that in a part of my heart that still squishy over him that I am worried that he just was unable to deal with it at all. That he didn’t contact me because it hurt too much. However, most of my heart (and other body parts) say fuck that! He could have tried.

I’m working on resolving these issues with myself since I’ve been left alone with them. I’m done whining about the loss, that was blogs ago. I just really needed that day to finish mourning. And mourn I did. And while it will always hurt, I think that I can now move on.

New Year, New Life


Last night, or more accurately this morning, I received some of the best advice I have ever heard. Treat the people in your life with the same compassion and kindness that you would a stranger. As with all the best advice, it contains an “Aha” moment. An actual mental click that makes you go, “well, duh!” If we treated the people we most cared about with the same kindness that we afforded a stranger then life would be so much more satisfying. It’s only when we are selfish and start to think that people’s reactions are personal that we begin to doubt and mistrust their affection for us.
It is my resolution this year to be more kind in thought and deed. The actions I have no real problem with, I tend to OVER give which isn’t exactly the healthiest of traits. But my thoughts, my thoughts have a tendency to be reactionary. I never considered myself a really selfish person, mostly because I almost never tend to think of myself or what I can do that will make my life better. But perhaps I don’t have the right definition of selfishness. Merriam-Webster defines being selfish as

“(of a person, action, or motive) Lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure.”

That is not my issue, for I certainly never enter any arrangement with the thought of, “What is this going to provide for Lissa?”
However, selfishness can also be a form of egotistical mannerisms. And I am so certain that people do not have my best intentions at heart. I don’t consciously think that people are out to get me; I don’t ponder that people wake up with their first thought of how to screw with my life. But I don’t also consciously think that people wake up with the thought of how to make my life easier or better either. When presented with situations, I think that people will choose the path that does screw with me. That’s my downfall. And on the top layer of my brain, of my thinking brain, I know that’s not right.

My animal brain however, the one that reacts on an emotional level, knee jerks into thinking that whomever it is, they are going to make me feel bad on purpose. And maybe not on purpose, so much as without thoughtful consideration. I have the tendency to go out of my way to make sure another person is comfortable and ignore my own needs and wants. Why should I be angry when they also ignore them, especially if I haven’t voiced them? I need to learn to accept the things that can not be changed, but can be changed. Just as I need to accept that the world doesn’t revolve around me.

The same person that gave me the “Aha” moment last night (damn now that song is in my head) was also the person that once called me the most selfishly unselfish person they had ever known. They accused me of shoving so much of my own shit into a hole that they felt guilty whenever they came to me for support for they felt like they were whining since I never leaned on them, or anyone really, for help. I had scoffed at that notion when it was uttered years ago.
Now. Now I don’t. I don’t try to be selfishly unselfish. It’s more of the fact that we grew up in a household where nothing was ever discussed. Where problems were our own issue and talking about them wouldn’t solve anything. That relying on people was a sure way of being disappointed. That silence was strength, and that weakness was embarrassment. We were taught, from cradle on, that your personal life is like Fight Club. In the past year I have learned to lean and trust. To talk when the goings get rough, and to ask for comfort or help when I felt I really needed it.

Of course, after the loss of our baby I might have gone full throttle and leaned to heavily. I had so much faith and trust in the Manfriend, more than I have ever had in anyone else, and the strain put a rather large gap into our relationship. Because I leaned and leaned and leaned and never allowed him a chance to grieve with me. Then I felt awful when I realized what I was doing and shut him out, pretended to be fine and pissed him off because I was faking through our relationship. I back slide from the strong independent woman I had become to the weak (yes, weak) and emotionally stunted girl I was trying to leave behind.

And since that time, I have become reactionary again. I have looked at each situation, selfishly, and thought how could he do this to me, how could she say that to me, why would they conspire like that and hurt me?

Why is it all about me?

I need to look at the situation and remember that I am not the only one in it. That I know that people are facing their own challenges that have nothing to do with me. That they are going through their own pitfalls and obstacles and that their choices don’t always have my feelings as the fore front. And that’s alright. It’s not good all the time, because then they are just feeling anything about you and I realize that. However, they need time too. He needs time too. I need time too.

So, on this new day of the new year I just wanted to remind you to be kind to those in your life. Treat them as you would a stranger. Take yourself out of the equation and hear their side of the story and think, really think about their choices as if they didn’t involve…perhaps you’ll see a glimmer of the truth through the fog of your selfishness. That they do love you and care for you and they are not out to get you is the truth. See it. Live it.

Be kind. Be thoughtful. Choose to remember the good and stop reacting to the bad. Don’t be a door mat, but don’t be a hammer either.

And be kind to yourselves. That is a harder lesson to remember. But one I am choosing to start today.

Happy New Year! I hope that 2013 is the best one it could be for you and yours.

All my Lady Friends, All my Lady Friends


I’m starting a brand new chapter in my life. Actually, a few new chapters so maybe I should say a new novel. And while not all of them will be life altering (so far) they are all important in various ways.

First, there is the whole Manfriend thing. With him being in Indiana and us fighting then him not speaking to me, and me wanting to whim-wham between wanting to throttle him and wanting to kiss him. But this blog isn’t to whine about our relationship (I actually started a whole new place so my loyal LODADs-ians won’t be infected with BDGD. )

But I am starting a new job too- so yay! I am VERY sure that I will be scathing with all my new coworkers soon. I mean, there are almost 1000~ so there’s a chance that LODAD will be busier than ever.

It’s the job thing that got me on my newest rant, really. And not the having a job, which is so totally yay. It’s the important step towards independence that I am now taking. And THAT got me starting thinking on the difference between want and need.

Because a lot of people hear women speak of independence and think stubborn. But it’s not stubbornness that I’m seeking but self. And there’s a reason it’s not called a relation-self-ship. Because once you’re in a couple-dom, you lose a part of yourself. Only a very little part if you are lucky. A much larger one if you are dumb. And there is no good reason for it.

While I can understand wanting to cling to another person because they make you feel good and beautiful and loved we women need to remember that we are all those things with or without him. We need to remember we are the reason they’re in our lives. We are the catalyst for their interest. So why do we change?

Need is my theory. We need to needed, wanted, desired. There is something to the genetic make-up of women that makes us strive for acceptance. And not just acceptance but undeniable need. We need the need in our lives to notice us, to want us, to be dazzled by us. Which explains why we start off independent, self-aware, and strong willed women and turn into compliant , indecisive, weak minded girls once the glow off the new relationship dims (roughly at six months is my record)

Does that piss you off? That I called you out? GOOD! Because I’m pissed too! Mostly because I’m so very guilty.

How often do you say “wherever you want to eat, whatever you want to do, whenever you want to go?” Yeah, me too. Why? Because we usually don’t have an opinion. Or sometimes, because sometimes it’s just easier. Or to avoid an argument. I’m not saying we should constantly wrench the wheel in our direction, but why not just say, “I want this.” You have to retain self. Even if you really don’t have an opinion, don’t be apathetic. Voice something. “I don’t really care” is not acceptable. How annoyed are you when he returns the favor and doesn’t bother to say anything but “whatever you want.”

“I’d prefer sit down rather than drive thru.”  Or “We just had Chinese so anything other than that.” Even “I don’t want to hang out with your friends again, how about we split up for a few hours and then met up at home.”  Even “I’d rather see this rom-com that’s about to leave theaters so why don’t we go bowling like you want next week?”

SAY ANYTHING! {cue “In Your Eyes” (I love that song! And movie! [ “She’s gone. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen”])} Once you stop caring, why should he? And it starts with not keeping yourself alive, by melting into eachother to the point that you are nothing without the other one.

Women need to remember that their relationship does not make them THEM. I’m mostly talking to myself here. Even when I go into a new couple-dom and constantly remind myself of it, I tend to back slide into complacency.

I swore it wouldn’t happen this time with the Manfriend. Of course, that was pre-pregnancy, pre-him moving in, pre-miscarriage, pre-him moving to Indiana. I became needy, insecure, and pertrified of losing him. Why? Because I needed him. I needed him to need me! I had to make him believe his life wouldn’t be the same without me just as I was sure that was the way it SHOULD be. And by reverting into full blown Twlight angst, I managed to alienate him and disgust myself. BAH! It’s ridiculous to the point of being absurd.

He fell in love with stubborn, strong willed, independent Lissa. Why did I think new clingy, whiny, pensive, and pathetic Lissa would hold any attraction. I don’t like her; why would he?

Am I in love with him? Simply, yes. I was never a romantic before him. My marriage to the Ex was mostly for his mother. The stress and the planning and the…the…the fucking froufrou of it all pissed me off and made it unbearable to enjoy. I wasn’t so much happy with being married so much as I was relieved that the damned wedding was over. I was so glad to not have to think about napkins, or open bars, or color combos anymore.  I never believed in that whole Happily Ever After before. In finding The One. In soulmates. In forever and forever, dying on the same day, Amen, theend. But moments after meeting him-I believed. In all my girly, tween-ish, dramatic flair. I believed in all that stuff that I had scoffed at since the age of 10. (I blame my mom’s habitual divorce practices. I mean, it’s hard to believe in Prince Charming when she’s currently hating husband #5. Or is it #6?)

Did I lose my mind after I lost our baby? Simply (and resoundingly), yes. That’s not an excuse, that’s the truth. After my miscarriage I was an emotional wreck. I was pissed at the entire planet. I was depressed and withdrawn and stubbornly ignoring that I was either. And I dared the entire human existence to challenge the age old fall back of “I’m fine.” I was at the point that I wanted to say fuck the world but I was positive there wasn’t a dildo big enough. I regret all of that. If I could change it, I would. In a Doctor Who moment, I would change it and damn the consequences.  Because I know that was where I screwed up.

And by screwing up, I mean I Iost myself. We had gone from an Us that was still a me and him but together to a dynamic that was less us because of the baby to a me and him apart but subletting parts of each other’s hearts. When she died, I needed protection because I had never faced that kind of pain before. Ever. And the only way to protect myself was to shut down. I did everything but pack his bags for him and boot his ass down the stairs. God I screwed up. Because that is not what I wanted. But I was so lost so forgettable of myself, I didn’t know what I was doing. I needed but didn’t know what I needed. I asked for all the wrong things and I became resentful when he didn’t just know what I couldn’t ask for.

Don’t get me wrong- he screwed up too. Still is. But when one of you loses self, it’s salvageable. But when you both do, how can you come back to where you were?

That’s why retaining self is so important ladies. So very important. Because if it does fall apart you need to be able to pick up the pieces on your own. Or if you want to make it work, then you need to know yourself so you don’t lean too much on him.  Because fixing it is harder than maintaining it.

Trust me.

Goodbye 2012: The 25 Biggest Fashion, Music, Sports Stories of the Year


You have to follow BtUD- he’s insightful., doesn’t pull a single punch and offers you life wihtout rose colored glasses!


Well we all dodged the Mayan’s bad calendar making and it’s time to look at the year in review.  It was hard to pare this list down to 25 memorable moments.  If you don’t like my list well tough…go make your own.  2012 was full of fun, the funny, the sad, and sadness.  Here are my top 25.  Enjoy.


1.  Kate Upton and the Cat Daddy Dance(close to 80 million views on Youtube)


Kate Upton has had quite a year.  She scored the coveted cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and appeared as a bikini clad nun in The Three Stooges movie.  While on a photo shoot earlier this year Ms. Upton (Kate if you’re nasty) took a break in between shoots to film this 24 second piece of heaven. Looped twice this video is 1:01.. and is the sexiest video you’ll ever see where the…

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