Sticker Family Haiku

13 Oct

Sticker family
Vanilla fucktardery
Then we found zombies

My sticker family can eat your sticker family’s brains!
The Man bought these for me today…he knows zombies & shoes are the way to my heart!



Grocery Store Fucktardery

11 Oct



Seriously, stop crying, it’s just a scrape from my grocery cart.



I need to vent and get a crazy check. Perhaps I am too picky but I am curious to know what you all think about my latest grocery store incident. We have discussed a few times how much I absolutely love to grocery shop. I really do, unless some one goes with me or people bring their brats. I hate that, in fact, I will try to mow down screaming brat spawns of Satan with my cart. I know, it seems harsh on the surface but if their mothers will not teach them to not be heard and stay out of the drunk lady with hooker heels way, then I will graciously be the bad guy. I see it as my service to the public. Like the military but I correct bad behavior with wine and harsh soul breaking words instead of machine gun rounds. Seriously, I wish grocery stores would have an over 21 only shopping happy hour. And serve drinks. 
Another trigger to spring  a crazy cussing lady melt down is when the baggers don’t put my groceries in proper order. It’s quite easy: dairy with dairy, meat with meat, box shit together and so on. Don’t put my steak in the bag with my salad and tampons. Additionally, for the love of Jeebus and all that is supposedly holy, DO NOT put my wine and NyQuil in a flimsy plastic sack that will no doubt rip and splatter my stay sane cocktail on to the ground. So to avoid a God Fatheresque scene, I tend to bag my own groceries which leads me to my latest grocery store annoyance. The cart.  Along with not wanting some kid who probably just spanked his monkey in the public restroom and didn’t wash his hands to bag my groceries; I prefer to take my shit out to my truck myself. I have no rational reason but why start trying to find good reasons for my behavior now. Recently I went to the fancy grocery store with wood floors, perfect displays and not one brat to be heard. Holy fuck, I found heaven! It was as perfect as perfect could be until it was time to take my bounty to my car. 

“Do you need help out?”
“Nope, I got it. Thanks.”
“Really, I can help you.” (sparkly smile)
“No thanks, I got it.” (touch my cart and I kill you )
“I have to help you, Ma’am.” (please don’t hurt me)
“WHAT?” (back up or you will never father children after I am done with you)
Store Manager inserts his big head
“Our policy is that guests can’t take carts out.” (I’m the Manager and demand your respect)
“Why not?” (Fuck off baldy)
“Because we want to make sure they will stay on our property.” (you look shifty, lady)
“The cart won’t fit in my pocket or car plus it doesn’t go with the toilet in my yard.” (top that, ass bag)
“Ok, I will just watch you take it to your car.” (because you might shoot me or put my head in the freezer)

And so I took my groceries to my truck. Alone. Really slowly. I may have taken a few unnecessary laps around other cars. I think if I have to go back there, I will walk in front of the carry out guy really slowly and crop dust him all the way to my car.

Poetic Fork

10 Oct
Choices. We all have them but we all also have this internal flow chart that mucks up the ability to make the choice we desire and settle for the choice that is right for us at the time. We have all been there, and likely are there often. You know where there is. The poetic fork in the road; one way pays you in quickly devaluing cash to support your family, necessities and their happiness. The other pays you in soul, living color and large servings of blissfully selfish  happy with a cherry on top. Having to choose between supporting a family and living your ideal life almost always comes down to money. Doing the right thing. Surviving.
I never set out to be a divorced single mom at the young and inexperienced age of 21. My 21 was more like being 17. I got married right out of high school because it was that or be homeless. I divorced at 21 because I had this beautiful baby girl and I knew the life we had was just settling for survival. I became determined to show her a  life that she could navigate the way she wanted, embrace her choices, make mistakes and feel the sweet breeze of freedom no matter which direction she walked. Most importantly, I knew I had to teach her to be independent and to never feel like marriage was her only choice. Let me add a disclaimer here, because she reads this blog and her Daddy might too, I have told her a gazillion times that our divorce had nothing to do with her. It had every thing to do with us wanting what’s best for her; a happy home.  We weren’t happy and knew she wouldn’t be either unless we made a decision. Our marriage came to a fork and the only right decision was for us to go on different paths. She’s lucky because her Daddy has always been there for her and she is the epitome of a Daddy’s Girl. She has never had to question if  I, he or we love her. As divorced parents go, we made sure she knew we were hers and we both have been there every step of the way. Was it always easy, hell to the no it wasn’t but we both agreed that her happiness was, and still is, priority one. With all of that said, there is no denying shit was hard and some where along the way me ceased to be a real fleshy being and I stopped feeding the me soul.
I didn’t choose to be an Executive Assistant/ Office Manager for twenty years. The job’s high pay, single mom friendly schedule and benefits chose us. I don’t begrudge it because I made great money, and as single parent households go, we didn’t need or want for anything. There were a few rough patches but The Girl lived a normal middle class life. She had a nice home, meals, sports teams, gymnastics, birthday parties, nice clothes, pets and a mom who was involved. That was the path I did choose. If I was going to be a mom, her mom, I was going to be super mom. Super Mom was all about The Girl. Eighteen years of living and breathing all things school, drama, home work, PTA meetings, booster clubs, soccer, soft ball, boy friends, break ups, make up, proms, driving, scary ass car wrecks, FFA, shopping, living, mourning our lost ones and enriching her life. I don’t share all of this so every one will politely applaud while thinking I am wanting to be some martyr as if my story is that much different than yours. I was so wrapped up in being her that I sorta forgot about me and that is a danger to any woman. I share it because eventually when those little beings grow up and flee to the world ,you have that day when you look in the mirror and say what the fuck am I supposed to be doing now and who is that woman looking back at me because she doesn’t feel  like me.
With the move to New City, The Man insisted I take three months off to just be and explore what I wanted to do next. Who did I want to be, for me. Does that make perfect sense yet seem exceedingly foreign to any other woman? Ninety days to just breath a bit, decompress from my mighty mom power suit and get comfortable with casually chic Cat? And so I didn’t. I jumped right back into stay busy and don’t breath mode because that was comfortable to me. The break neck speed of  stay busy or fall apart because my baby is three hundred miles away, writing 24/7 and constantly marketing me and my blog made it on purpose impossible to squeeze in a tiny bit of quiet time to sit down and just be. To deal with being me and not being Super Mom. So I broke up with my blog for a few weeks. Made myself go to bed at a reasonable time to read, talk about our plans and giggle in bed with The Man. I spent a week on the couch in my underwear, drinking coffee and mindlessly just being. Anxiety attacks ensued, many WTF am I doing phone calls and texts were sent to friends and more than once I contemplated running away. After all of that emotional purging and getting my shit straight, I feel all better now. It was a necessary transition time to say good bye to being who I needed to be and welcome who I want to be.  I feel good about where I have chosen to be. No strings attached. A choice that 100% pays in a full filled soul, doing what I love, having an identity that is me and not a job title, every thing I have always wanted with a man who for whatever reason loves my crazy ass just how I am. Thanks for being patient to those of you who stuck around.

New People, New Job & The Girl Is Revealed

3 Oct
I’m pretty amazed that there are 600+  20,000 of you that check in to stalk read about what I have to babble about day to day. I decided to re share this post, with updates, so the new people will know who they are dealing with! SO read on for what’s new to you and the updates for those of you who are part of that first 600 I am still grateful to.  A few of you comment, but alot of you email me and ask questions. Questions are ok- but the same questions x 100 makes my Tylenol PM wear off before noon. This is especially bad on a Sunday here in the great country of Texas. You see, Texas loves church- and until church lets out at noon, I can’t go buy wine. Which is odd- because some churches give you wine at 9 in the morning. And a cookie. Maybe church isn’t so bad.
Most of you are women, which is awesome, because it’s Boobies against Sticks everyday out in the real world and we have to band together. Sticks should continue to read, because they will probably learn a little about the Boobies here that will save their asses from a murderous PMS fueled rage one day. You’re welcome. Lots of you want to know more about me: do I have regrets, am I married, why no pictures of The Girl, why do I over share, what is a “crabbit”, do I have siblings, where do I live and so on. So here it is, Interweb, the skinny on Cat.
1. My favorite job ever was when I was a short order cook. I rocked at that. Also- every time I drive by that place, I giggle. One night I was cleaning the vent hood and melted my dance team shoes to the grill. Wonder if they can still taste 18 year old drill team feet on the burgers. Today I will start a PT waitressing job because I really miss working in a restaurant and it’s not quite time to ramp up the real estate business we moved here to start. So I need some thing to do for a few months. I know, no one ever says they miss working in a restaurant, but I am seeing it through opportunity tinted glasses. Looking around New Town, we see a void that we want to fill in the eat out arena and no better way to learn the local climate than to let some one pay me to get schooled. Besides that, I imagine I will have really good stories to share with you. 
2. I’m a Leo, which makes me these things: bossy, patronizing, egotistical, pompous, dogmatic, pushy, materialistic , over-dramatic, argumentative, possessive, jealous, voracious, arrogant and intolerant. It also makes me these things: fun loving ,dignified, passionate, affectionate, ardent, loyal, strong, independent, noble, magnetic , powerful, creative, protective, adoring , playful, inventive, generous, supportive, warm, broad-minded and faithful.
3. If you break my heart, you will only do it once. Some things can’t be forgiven or forgotten. causing an intentional heart break is on that list.

4. I feel robbed that I didn’t have my Father in my life. I think alot about him lately and wish I had known him enough to form my own opinions and save my own memories of him. As it stands, my only memory of him is from his funeral.
5. Ditto for not knowing my Aunts, Grand Parents, Cousins, Uncles and so on.
6. I started blogging for therapy and because of #2 and because I need the planet to pay attention to my weight loss and pressure me to keep my lbs. truth in check. Can it get ugly here on my blog- indeed. But life is about the messy stuff more than it is about the easy stuff. At least you nut cases out there will know you are not alone.
7. I totally relate to the characters Ree in Winter’s Bone and Elle Woods in Legally Blonde.
8. The Girl’s cat is really a crabbit. His front looks like a cat, his back parts look like a rabbit and he acts like a dog. The equivalent of a platypus in the house pet world.
9. I like gross stuff, alot! I love to watch anything about surgery, hoarders, weird disorders, gross health stuff, fart jokes and so on. This is why The Man refuses to show me how to record TLC & Discovery shows on the Tivo. But I can’t stand to see an animal squished on the side of the road. Makes me cry.

10. I think I am OCD- “Organized in Case of Disaster”. My shoes are lined up like little soldiers, my underwear drawer is sectioned off by type and color and my pantry has all of the cans turned forward. I know where my shit is at all times just in case Glenn Beck is right- and the world is about to end. Or we are invaded by zombies. I know where my gun is and I can easily find the right ensemble, survivor food and stilettos in case either of those happen. I love zombies.

11. The world should take note: if anyone dare hurt The Girl- I will have zero problem with ripping your head off with my bare hands. Zero issue with going to jail for avenging her. And there is zero chance you will ever be heard from, seen again or found.
12. I don’t like opera, rap or The Beatles. I’ll pretty much listen to everything else at least once. I have wet dreams about Johnny Cash.
13. I love the Constitution, this country and the NRA. In that order.

14. I’m not religious in the churchy sense but if you are- I will listen to you. If you try to baptize me- good luck with that- i’ve been dunked in the church three times and it still hasn’t stuck. So let’s make a deal- I will respect your thoughts & beliefs but if you don’t show me the same courtesy , I will set you on fire. Or blog about you. And use your real name. You have been warned.
Me & The Girl at a recent photo shoot. She made sure
I laughed the whole time and didn’t look too “mommish”.

15. I do not ever post pictures of The Girl or use her name. Too many creeps out there and selfishly,  she  is all mine. I will give you little glimpses of her- but never will you see her. Plus see #11 ( I really don’t want to go to jail because I am certain the black and white horizontal striped jumpers will make me look like a rhino-zebra hybrid from the back. Jail or not- this Cat needs to look pretty). I had to change this policy once The Girl rallied for recognition. She said, “Mom, I am in college now and can shoot a gun. No one will mess with me, and if they do, they will wish they hadn’t”. So here she is, My Girl, the one true thing in the world that I can say is mine and that I did 100% perfectly.

16. My sister calls me “Ugly”, and that is my favorite nickname. Because she loves me, just how I am, and wouldn’t have me any other way. Besides, I have to like it, because that particular sister pretty much has every speck of dirt there is to have on me- and she saw it all first hand. And no way do I want her sharing it. No. Way.

17. My brother is my hero. He knows why and that is all that matters.
18. My other sister is my polar opposite. I never really appreciated that about her, or her, until recently- now I get why she is her and the whys that make her tick. She would take a bullet for me- and has taken quite a few non-literal ones from me. For whatever reason, she still answers her door when I show up and invites me in. Good thing- I would be pretty lost right now without her. Think Xena Warrior Princess with a brood of kids she will kill for. Scary huh?
19. The Man is the right to all of my wrong and makes me laugh all of the time. Truth be told- he is the perfect balance to my Leo. He’s a retired Air Force guy- and this makes him tip the sexy scale to crazy limits. He’s handsome and has enough trouble making boy left in him to make it impossible for me to be mad at him. He gets that I am high maintenance, pouty, proud, damaged, emotional, crazy, independent and vain. He understands I have a driving need to feel safe, secure and cared for. He likes me just how I am and exceeds at all of the things a man is and does for a woman. My family should pay him for putting up with me.
20. I have always loved to write. We all have that thing we can say without apology that we are great at- writing is mine. I wish I had some of the things I wrote when I was a kid but privacy in my room or my thoughts wasn’t a luxury I was afforded. Often I would stay up late writing my thoughts, happenings and dreams- then promptly flush them down the toilet before they could be discovered and interrogated.
21. I am currently writing a book about turning 40 and a novel that is biographical fiction (go wrap your head around that), writing for an Austin based magazine and a children’s book based on my retarded cat and The Man’s not so nice blind dog ( I know, I know…no cussing at the under 18 group). Oh, and a blog.
22. I have officially let myself off of the hook for any regrets I had, made my apologies to anyone I hurt purposely and buried the long list of child hood hurts and wrongs I lived through.

23. I say what I mean and mean what I say knowing any of you could  get butt hurt. But hope you will keep reading.

24. I love shoes, the higher the better. I have well over 100 pair. I need more.
25. Sarcasm is my constant companion.
26. I have about 60 friends. Seven of them I know will help me bury a body and ask no questions. They are my BFF’s and will drop everything, fly from anywhere and bail me out of jail at a moments notice. These are the people that The Girl has on speed dial- because they will do it for her also.

27. Some things I can’t bring myself to forgive- and I am ok with that.
28. My adult life has gone like this: graduated from HS, got married, had The Girl, got divorced, work & school, school & work, married, divorced, freak out because The Girl is now 18 and going on to college, moved in with The Man, about to move out of the city I have lived in for the past 33 years and now writing. Nope- no stress causing life events here. It’s all been perfectly peachy with a dash of Jack Daniel’s. Shaken. And not gently.
29. A soon as I walk in the door- I take of my pants/skirt/shorts. At home, my standard operating outfit is a tank top and panties. Sorry neighbors (shouldn’t be looking through my windows anyway…pervs).

30. I am addicted to coffee and that’s ok with me. I drink a pot in the morning and a pot at night. Possibly some through out the day.

31. My biggest brightest accomplishment in my life is The Girl. She is the one thing I can wholly say is mine, I made her, I raised her, I love her. She’s mine and is the most glorious, wonderful, funny beautiful woman I will ever set eyes on.
Want to keep up with me during the day? Join me on FaceBook ….I know I know, shameless self promotion. See #2 and file that away under “I told you so”.

Shoe Porn: Classic Hooker

28 Sep
What’s not to love about these? Pony hair pumps with a very stunning leopard print trimmed out by bright red patent leather. That’s a modest 4″ heel and easy to strut around in all day because it is thick and has a large pointy end (boys, hold your pervy comments). These are the “Zasperf” by Bandolino…my all time favorite shoe maker. They consistently make a very sexy shoe that stands the test of time. These are hot but subtly hooker. These were a splurge purchase at Nordstrom’s for $150.  A quick search on Google yielded zero results for this shoe. It’s a limited edition but I am surprised to not find it even at Zappo’s. If you can find a pair, snap them up. Sizes are .5 smaller than true. I wear a 10 but a 9.5 in Bandolinos. Good luck on your hunt and let us all know if you find these anywhere…after you secure your pair, of course!

Thrift Store WTFery

27 Sep

Life gets so messy sometimes that it takes months to clean up. I recently wrapped up  divorce  numero  dos (don’t be jealous if you haven’t even arrived at #1 yet…it will come..trust me). We were out of love for years, separated for another year and in a divorce free fall for months. It wasn’t ugly, just one of those “hey, do you smell what I smell?” type deals. Even if it was an epic shit storm, I wouldn’t tell you anyway. For sure not here. He has my dogs, and next time I visit, I don’t want to be in the position of noticing they are missing after I have eaten the oh so meaty chili. Mr. Ex was nice enough to let me stash my stockpile of useless crap in his spare room for a very long time. I finally went back to Austin a couple of weekends ago to pick up what I thought was a few boxes. Upon entering the room and being greeted by floor to ceiling boxes (not counting what was stashed in the closet) it became clear I was one box of shit shy of being a Hoarder’s episode.

After sorting through the mountains of crap I had forgotten I abandoned stored there, I packed my SUV within an inch of it’s life. Consequently, this made driving home a bit tricky since I couldn’t see out of the windows. I was certain at every curve that this would be the one that I roll my truck on. I had anxiety over my dead body being found splayed out next to my boxes of pictures, craft crap and files. If any one found me, they would quickly surmise I was a lonely old weirdo with hundreds of files of boring and would likely start a search for the twenty cats I should have with me. Unless they found the one bag of excitement I had in my possession. A bag packed with pastel yellow rubber whips and bright pink and yellow straws. With penis heads to suck on. Now before you get any measure of judgemental, they were for a friends divorce party. Since my plan for all of this crap was to sell it in a garage sale in New City and make a few bucks for new hooker heels and new Fall make up; I didn’t think it was appropriate to sell nasty dirty but oh so fun penis straws at a garage sale in front of my house. I dumped them in a men’s restroom at a truck stop instead of risking their accidental appearance at my sale right as the very Christian home schooled kids across the street were looking for craft projects. Somewhere in Texas is a trucker really pissed at me because the guy that used the bathroom after him thinks said trucker is a weirdo that likes sipping his beer through a wiener head. I bet that asshat never tail gates a truck that looks like mine again.
During the garage sale, a youngish cute pregnant couple buys stuff. A lot of stuff. They proceed to tell is that they are stocking their new home on the cheap. Aaaw how sweet! Youngish middle aged love about to pop their spawn out of fun city and they are padding their nest. Awesome, at this moment, I’m happy they hauled my useless crap very valuable heirlooms and rare antique furnishings away. Fast forward to Saturday. The Man and I are in dire need of a coffee table because we just sold the leather ottoman that the cat likes to dry hump like a lusty teenager in the garage sale. We decide a funky lime green table is our goal, and knowing there is no way in hell we will find that at a furniture store, we head to the thrift shop to make our own shabby cheap table. Holy hell, the first table we come to is perfectly funky awesome and will look epic after we spray paint  and add new handles to it! While The Man goes to make a deal, I look over to the next booth. WTF! There is my lamp, glass pitcher and other crap I just sold to that  lying bastard couple! I’ve been screwed and the only wet spot to prove it is the rabid pissed foam frothing from my fangs. Seriously? WTFery is this? I gave them awesome deals because I was having a moment of compassion (see Kittens, that never pays).  The guy recognizes that I recognize him. So does his fat ugly pregnant hooker. She bolts. He breaks eye contact. I tell the back of his head, “Hey congratulations for completing that junks circle of life! I bought that crap for less than you paid me for it at this very thrift store to sell at my garage sale”. That was a tiny white lie of course, but sometimes that’s just the spot light needed to make some one’s asshattery shine to it’s full potential.

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Weekly Wrap Up: 9.24.11

24 Sep

Quote:
Maybe he can take care of the bulge after he gets a refund for his craptastic boobs.” -Laurie Mayfield in regards to a truly shitastic picture I posted  here on FB on 9/19.

Picture:



We had fun with at this guy on Skinny Cat Facebook.
“Russell Brand in 20 years” -Kathy Low

Most Read Post:
It’s Momster Season. And guess what? Anonym Ass has yet to reply. Sigh, I was truly hoping for some bitchtastic banter.

What’s Up for Artsy Chicks Tomorrow:
Do you know an Artsy Chick who would like to be featured tomorrow? Leave a comment below with a link to her Etsy and/or FaceBook page!

Next Week’s Fail Theme:
Sex toys. Yeah, there are lots of fails in this category! Get your eye bleach ready!
What’s New:
How about some more Dirty Dictionary vocabulary?
Best Bloggity Post I Read:
If you’re a dating girl, guy or smart ass pirate; you have to check this blog out. Most times funny and other times creepy scary.
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