F*&k You Like An Animal

Dear Lord.

The things I hear come out of Miss A's (my teenage daughter) domocile.

My house was infested with her and her little teenage friends last night.

So, I'm painting last night in the hallway between my bedroom and hers when I hear, "Oh my God, he's raping her!"

Being somewhat alarmed that they were watching something questionable on the boob-tube, I put down my paint roller and wander in there to find out who's raping who.

As it turns out, it was her latest acquisition of animal friend. Rats.

Not long ago, we lost our dear bearded lizzard to a firefly.

Well, she didn't waste any time finding a new pet.

Actually, she got one, her boyfriend got one, her friend Jesse got one, her friend Cody got one, and Aaron got one.

They were supposed to reside at Josh's house.

But, Monday night, here come the teenagers with this huge tank of rodent friends.

Not to mention that Amanda's rat just gave birth to 9 babies, that will be full grown soon enough.

I've already demanded that they be sold, released away from the house or taken back to Josh's dad's pad.

Anyhoo...

Turns out that one of the boy rats was horny as hell and he was chasing this girl rat around and around and around the cage.

Apparently he got lucky for a split second and caught up with her.

Which explained who was raping who.

Other things I heard come out of that room last night whilst rolling paint on the walls:

- Damn, if that was me, I'd have done given up, lit me a cigarrette and counted my losses. (In reponse to the chase for ass)

- Well, those two ate him because he had a big package and they were sick of it. (In response to why the one albino rat was missing).

Somebody Just Shoot Me... Thanks!

So, after the boy's football game Friday night, I'm tired and I feel just nasty. I was full of Italian Ice, as I had engulfed like 5 during the game trying to cool of. I'd had sweat running from my neck, down my back, directly down my butt crack. That, my friends is not a nice feeling.

Even with feeling grody and tired, I still hoped to go home and get a little lovin after a nice cold shower. Know what I mean? I think ya do.

But, no. Why is it that I can never seem to get rid of both of teen-aged-mutants at the same time? Amanda, my girl, was spending the weekend at Jessie's (the child that claims me as her other mother).
But, the boy couldn't stand it, he had to stay home. Worse yet, he had to stay awake. So, we get home, I go take a shower and I go to bed.... to sleep.

Hell if I didn't wake up early, before the boy. So, I poke Anthony and told him wake up and GET R DUN!!! Door was closed and I was under the blanket. I got too hot, so I go and throw/kick/pitch/toss the blanket in the floor.

Well, Anthony's cell phone was in the livingroom. His phone rang. Matthew decided to answer it. Matthew decided that he would just bust into MY bedroom to tell his dad that Mario was on the phone.

Sweet Jesus. Now up until that point in life, I don't believe anything has ever both made me absolutely furious and at the same time nearly given me a heart attack.
BUSTED!

This non-knocking problem we are having is getting a little bit on my nerves.
Admittedly, I am most likely the most sexual natured I know. I dig it. I want it.
I just can't help it.

But even my horns are nipped in the bud knowing that kid is in the house lurking. There have been numerous times I've just decided to forego play time just because I'd hate to think about anybody else in the house knowing.

GRRR!!!! Can we say frustrated???

I mean, I swear, I think he has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing if and when we may be even considering having sex. It's like he goes that extra mile to keep trying to drive a wedge of any kind between me and Anthony.

Makes me nervous to have anything in my room, let alone my happy drawer.
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Then this happened:

So, I get started to get over getting busted by the boy. And I go outside to start working on the cleaning out of the shed. This shed is barely a shanty. It is missing the bottom boards on the walls, so it's wide open to anything and everything that wants in.

Ok, now there is a reason that shed was in the shape it was in. I don't dig going in it and flat refused to go in it for three years.
Not to mention the fact that I'd seen various critters and rodents zipping in and out of there. *shiver*.

But, the time had come. We have a week to be getting all of my crap up and out of the house. Which means the shed had to be cleaned too.
I get the broom, the hair spray and my lighter and head out back where the shed stands.

I stand outside, looking to see what sort of arachnid may be lurking up above my head or down below my feet. Ewwww. Dark, scary and spider infested.

So, I finally take the broom, poke it inside the shed and start swingin like a wild woman at whatever might be in my path. When I didn't feel that was enough, I took the hairspray and lighter and started blow torching anything that appeared to be an insect of any sort. The smell of sizzling spiderwebs is a lovely one.

My spider problem apparently taken care of, I forge ahead. Looking at the piles of shit that were piled into this shed nearly three years ago when I moved into the house. I decided that if it had been in the shed for damn near three years and not missed, that it wasn't ever going to be missed. Rahter than digging through the boxes, I hauled them right out to the bed of the truck. Locked and loaded for the Knox County dump.

I had gotten most of the crap our, when I thought I heard something. It was a rustling around sound. I stopped and assessed what it might be. I didn't see anything. So, I turned around to get another box and IT ran over my foot.

Well, I'll swear I thought it was a 2 foot rat. After nearly having the second heart attack of the day and hearing IT run into a window thinking it was a way out of the shed, I saw it. A baby rabbit.

Still when I'm confined in an icky space where I'm already paranoid, I don't even want the cutest of furry woodland creatures hippity-hopping over my foot.

Woot! Go Cougars!

The weekend started with a nice drive to Campbell County. It was the Campbell County Cougar's season opener against the Union County Patriots. My step-son to be is a Cougar and my ass promised to be there.

It was hotter than 10 hells on Friday and I was not dressed to go to a football game straight from work. I was in a short, black skirt and dressy tank top. Not exactly the gear I'd prefer to be wearing whilst resting my ass on 110 degree concrete bleachers.

The fun part was that my friends, Duck & Debbie, well, their son plays for Union County. So there we are... Me & Anthony and Duck & Debbie. Rooting for our respective kids. When the guy on the P.A. makes the announcement that the kids in the league are encouraged to have good sportsman-like conduct, and how we as parents, should be the same way.

I looked at Debbie and told her as soon as Union County scored I was gonna punch her right square in the mouth. Well I didn't get to pop her a good one because I had no more than said that when Campbell County scored, twice, in the second quarter.
Good sports-man-ship my ass.

It seemed like we were gonna be pulling splinters out of the boy's ass from his riding of the bench, but low and behold, the last 3 minutes 22 seconds of the game they finally put his ass in. He made a serious tackle and assisted in a final touchdown. Go Boy Go!

I decided not to tell him that the majority of the Powell team was there watching them play. I reckon they wanted to see how hard it's gonna be to whoop up on some Cougar ass.

I don't know what to do when Powell and Campbell County play. I gradu-ma-wated from Powell several moons ago. But the boy is a Cougar.
I suppose I sew the back of a Powell shirt to the front of a Cougar shirt and be for both.

Underwear Crisis - Solved

As usual nothing can go just as smooth as a newborn baby's ass. This whole bridal underwear crisis was starting to wear on me a tad bit.

I had rescheduled with Angenette, the wedding dress alteration lady, for today to begin alterations on my gown. Of course that was assuming that my damn boob liftin, fat squashing chinese torture device arrived in time for me to carry it along to her house.

Did it come? Why, hell no.

Found out when I finally checked my email this morning, that it, in fact, had not even shipped. Found out that OOOPS, it ain't even in stock!!!
Cancel my order! Refund the Georges back to my credit card and piss off!!!

So, me and Olga wisk off to David's Bridal for a fun time trying to shove me into a boned corset. If you've never put one on, I suggest you try it.
It's a delightful little contraption that effectively displaces fat to places it was never intented to be. All the while cutting off all hopes of taking more than a gasp of air at a time.

I have alot of breathing exercises to be performing before I am in this thing for the day. Or like Elizabeth on Pirates I, I shall be passing out and falling off a cliff into the water. Well, maybe nothing that extreme. I'll just pass out and fall at Anthony's feet (hopefully after squeeking out "I do")

Anyway, if nothing else, it should make for good YouTube footage.

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A Cake is A Cake, Right?

So, this wedding hasn't exactly went off without a hitch... If I don't end up in a padded room by the end of this thing it will be a miracle..

Leave us recap all of the issues, shall we?

**I mean, the date has been changed from July 14th to June 2nd and now (officially) September 29th.

**My stepbrother (the preacherman) was who was supposed to officiate the ceremony, ceremoniously backed out on me without letting me know.

**My chinese torture underwear has been returned for the proper size, yet the company has yet to send the replacement (the bastards).

**I am now going to have to reschedule AGAIN with the dress alteration lady.

GAAAA!!!! Then there is the issue with the cake.

Now call me simple-minded. But ain't cake, cake? Nothing more, nothing less?
At least that is what I thought when I started all this.

My original cake lady gave me the schpeel about how her cakes cost from $2 - $2.50 per serving. Now, I'm thinkin, if all of these folks that have been invited to this here illustrious event show, I'm gonna end up shellin out around $450 for a cake.
Cake, kids. Flour, eggs, oil, frosting. A cake. She cuts me a deal, and agrees on $230.00 set up and all.

Well, when the wedding got cancelled twice, I ended up losing the original cake lady. Which I was really bummed about, because although it was ass expensive, she was talented enough to make me the cake I wanted:


But alas, Elaine is looney and completely booked from now until Jesus comes back.

So, Olga (my boss) comes in this past Monday morning and says "Dude, you know when one door closes, another one opens." She had found someone, quite by accident, that does cakes. Yay!

Or so I thought. So, the lady calls me. We discuss the cake and how many I need to feed with this cake and so on... She goes on to tell me that she doesn't do that pricing by the piece stuff. I was thinking, "are you for real? You rock cake chick!".

So, she says give her a day or so to work on pricing and she'd get back to me. Well, today was the day. The phone range this morning and I was thrilled to be hearing back from her so promptly.

She says she can do the cake (mind you, I downsized from the original cake, so it was smaller). And she'll do the cake for a measley $550.00.

Sweet Holy Jesus, I almost fell over. Since I was at the office and unable to pass out right that second, I settled for my jaw dropping so far it hit my desk.

I thanked her kindly for her call, and told her I had to get in touch with my Mama since she is the one paying for it. We've decided to forego the half thousand dollar delight and put the blame on my Mom. She'll never know.

Anyway, off to Food City I go, as in a previous grocery foraging expedition, I noted in the back of my mind, that they have cakes for all occassions.

Seriously, who give two shakes of pig poo if the things tastes like sweet cardboard. It's still cake. Like anybody will eat it anyway.
Well, anybody other than my paternal grandfather would would eat the leather off of a shoe if it had icing on it.

They are going to prepare me a cake, that althought it ain't nearly what I wanted to begin with, will do. Especially for the $$.

For a mere $160 plus tax, we are getting a mighty fine work of edible art.


But still, I beg of you this answer... Ain't a cake, a cake?
I could just as easily go to Sam's and get a mac sized cake for $21.99. And they'll even airbrush Spiderman on it if I want. =)

Give Me My Friggin Fortune Cookie, Dude!

There is a tasty little Chinese Food place here in Oak Ridge that offers take out from the buffet. It's very good; it's always fresh, and super-dooper tasty! (Not to mention they always score well when the pesky healthy inspector happens to drop in unannounced).

Now our office has been in Oak Ridge for a many moons and my boss and I have traveled many miles, many times to partake of this sweet and sour plethora of tastiness.

I go so often that when I walk in the door, the little dude says, "Ahh. To go, right?", and hands me my little environment-killing-Styrofoam container with which I am set free into the pasture of goodness.


I'll graze for a few minutes, making my choices wisely. They have garlic beef w/broccoli, sweet n sour chicken, general tsao chicken, and my personal favorite - mixed spicy vegetable.

Then I wander over to the sauces and get a nice ladle full of that hot-ass mustard (yah, that stuff that when you get it in your mouth it makes your eyes water and your nose run… that stuff that makes you beg Jesus for forgiveness for eating something so friggin hot.)



All sounds like a beautiful lunchtime excursion in the making, yah? Well, no. I love the food at this place. It’s marvy, but the folks that run the place and work there make me more nervous than a cat in a room full of rockin chairs…

FLASHBACK…
Now I don’t know if I’m just traumatized from being married to a man who’s mother and all of her friends are Korean and you know they talk about you in their language while you’re standing there… All the while they are looking at you, nodding their heads, laughing and smiling as the chatter on… Bring on the cold sweat… I know those bitches were talking smack and plotting my untimely demise by way of extra spicy food.

BACK IN THE NOW
So, my selections are made, my mouth starting to water. I close up my little lunch box that still has steam pouring out the sides. I carry it to the front, so as to pay for it.

Let the uncomfortable state of affairs begin.
I am going towards the front to obtain my chopsticks, Diet Pepsi to go and to pay. When I notice the gaggle of them standing there… looking my way…. giggling like school girls… The skank at loitering at the cash register talking to dude keeps covering her mouth and saying “sorry” “sorry”.

Now this is what really just jerks my chain:
Don’t you expect to get a friggin fortune cookie when you have Chinese food? I mean, you eat in, they bring you the bill with a fortune cookie. You call for take-out, you go pick up and pay for it, in the bag you get your fortune cookie.
Right?

Well, not here. I think it’s just this guy’s way to annoy me. A kind of battle of the wits. He ain’t giving me no fortune cookie unless I ask for the fortune cookie.
And even then, it’s iffy if the asshat puts it in the bag.

Frankly, the guy who owns the place reminds me of the SOUP NAZI from Seinfield. NO COOKIE FO YOU! Be gone now!

I’d start screaming to give me my fortune cookie or I’m going across the street to Wok n Roll. But those guys suck big balls and I hate their food, generally greasy as hell and cold… but they give Diva her fortune cookie without her having to beg.

Tish Thinks Diva is Nice (Awwwww)

I feel officially appreciated, validated, and initiated. Tish (The Kat House & BlogsWeLuv) has bestowed upon me the Nice Matters Award. Ain't that sweet? I think it is and I'm tickled about it!



I can't say that I feel very like I'm very nice, I am totally honored! As I spend most of my time being bitchy, grumpy, sarcastic and down right snide.

I can say that although I feel not so nice most of the time, I make every effort not to make anyone feel bad about themselves, ignorant or outright stupid because they don't know me or about the things I know about.

Reckon that's why Tish hit me up?

So, along with tradition, I'll pass this bad boy along. I don't know many bloggers yet, but I have certainly run across a few that make me laugh and give me something to think about. Here's to y'all who tickle my fancy!

Boobs, Injuries & Dr. Pepper

Mushy

Fracas

Sugar Queens Dream



Have a great day now! Bugger off!

The Internet Age... Jeeez

I have never been interested in meeting anybody in an online setting. I crusied some of the sites and even checked out some of the adult type friend sites. But, when it came right down to it. I never met anyone because I'm too much of a chicken shit.

I mean you hear horror stories of people meeting in person and one or the other, or neither of them, is what they claimed they were. Or look like that picture they sent you.

Call me old fashioned, but when I was looking to meet somebody, I would rather it be over the cucumbers in the produce section of the local Piggly Wiggly, or maybe over a goofy "cooking for one" book at the library.

I joined MySpace last year to comment and cut up with my REAL LIFE FRIENDS. I never accept "friend requests" from people who I have never met in MY REAL LIFE. Nor do I ever randomly pour through page after page of people requesting them to be my friends. No. If I don't know ya in real life, then you'll never make it past the gate.

I know more than a few people who have met their significant other online (eHarmony, Match.com, MySpace...) and who have actually made it for a minute. But I know of none who has made it for the long haul. Why?

Well, in this day and age, it seems that those in the online dating community just shift around. Maybe its because there are so many available folks out there just lookin for love in all the wrong places.

It's a meat market for reals. But, it's not like a meat market as a bar would be. No. Say you go to your favorite bar or club. Yah, it's a fashion show. Yah, everybody is there hoping to meet someone unless they are there with someone.
But, at least you now when you are talking to them face to face, they aren't sitting there browsing profiles of others while they are talking you up.

I don't know. I guess I was jaded, or tainted against this kind of crap. I'm not a very trusting individual since a guy I was seeing in the last century was a total computer dork that (I found out later) was always looking at online personals and profiles.

Now you're prolly sitting there thinking, why is she going off on this lame ass tanget? What the hell pulled her trigger today?

Well, friends, I'll tell ya. There's a dumb-ass on AOL and yahoo who surfaces now and again thinking we're the best of friends. Before MySpace, he used to comb AOL profiles and email unsuspecting females. I guess so he would have someone to talk to or whatever. Anyway, I guess it was middle of last year, after he joined MySpace, he surfaced again, showing 198360876 (exaggerated for impact) friends, all of which are female. Which proves my point. Or maybe it doesn't. I'm sort of annoyed right now.

So, today on my little yahoo messenger thingy, I posted my status as "I'll never paint again, swear to God!" And I guess it piked his little curiousity button somehow. So, he (out of the blue) decided to IM me... Lord have mercy...

The conversation went a little somethin like this:

Dork: ok, I just gotta ask why won't you ever paint again?

Me: Because I have no feeling left in my arms from painting over dark colors with white like I promised my landllord. lol

Dork: see you should of called me you know thats whats i do for a living****

****NOTE: Actually, I didn't know that, but whatever

Me: Nopie, didn't know that.

Dork: yes i told you when we first started talking i remodel houses for a living

Me: How long ago was that though? And how long has it been since we talked? Prey tell, do you remember what I do or where I live?

Dork: couple days...lol just kiddon and in winter months

Me: No, it was well before last summer. And as I recall I wasn't interested in talking to you because you find it to be wonderful to collect women friends online.

Dork: no it wasnt you must be thinking of that other man lol

Me: I talk to no other men, other than the one I'm about to marry***

****NOTEThat is not all together true. I have REAL LIFE FRIENDS that are male and I certainly talk to them.

Dork: see

Me: See what? You act like you know me.

Me: He lives with me, I don't talk to him online (Also not completely true, he lives with me part time until we actually jump on the weddin train)

Dork: well that's cool


Then the dork went silent and didn't bother me anymore. I just get irritated that people have so little value for someone else's time I suppose.
Anyway, he is like every other person out there waiting to see some long lost person they added on to their buddy list, so they can feel important because they are chatting it up.

GET A LIFE!

Blushing Bride - My Ass!

There are two things I've seen women be extatic and smiling through. One is planning a wedding, the other is childbirth.

I've decided that unless you have unlimited fundage and a perfect body, planning a beautiful wedding is nothing more than a super big charlie horse right in my ass.

I guess I really shouldn't be complaining, because things have finally started to work out as they should. With the exception of the minister backing out, of course.
But, today I was supposed to have my dress fitting with the alterations lady, Angenette. Well, my underwear that we ordered was supposed to be here on Friday but it wasn't. This is a thing which resembles an archaic chinese torture device used to suck the breath out of women to keep them quiet! I have no idea where the fat is supposed to go once we get me into it, but supposedly it'll smooth one out under a wedding gown.

So, I had to call and reschedule with Angenette for next Monday. Great! Problem solved. Not quite.

Today, the torture device arrived in a pretty little box. Apparently the people who sewed the size into this thing were smoking some good shit at the time. Because not only was it too small, but it fit my boss rather snug and she's a tiny chick. Way tiny, like a size 8 girl. Now I'm no rocket scientist, but I would think if something is supposedly my size, but it fits her and it fits her snug, what the hell size am I supposed to get????
That was the only thing that made me feel even slightly less like a cow.

I talked to Anthony whilst he was out on a ring shopping spree in tears. God bless his heart, he said "Piss on it, don't wear underwear."

Hottie of the Day: Jeffrey Donovan

"When spies get fired, they don't get a letter from human resources. They get BURNED... "

Now I'm not so sure about getting burned, but Jeffrey Donovan as Michael on BURN NOTICE give me hot sweats. I'm honestly not sure what it is about dearest Jeffrey that does it for me. Maybe its that smile. Maybe it's his insatiable wit. Maybe it's his handling of Fiona (romantic interest on the show). Maybe it's the fact that he is shirtless a lot of the time...


Whatever it is, he DOES do it for me.

Here's to you Jeffrey. You make me weak in the knees, my friend.

NewsFlash! I Must Have Been Under A Rock

My attention was drawn to a NEWSFLASH today, that apparently isn't such new news.

One of my three alltime favorite bands is reuniting for a reunion tour!!!
Who?



Why, none other than Van Halen. With the exception of base player Michael Anthony, all of the boys will be crankin out the tunes that made 'em famous. Eddie Van Halen's son, Wolfgang, will be providing the bone thumpin bass now.

As long as David Lee Roth sticks to the songs and doesn't try to speak, I will be a happy girl! He has proven time and time again that he is a complete dip-shit, but buddy can he belt out the songs.

I'm sitting here having flashbacks to those wonderful days in the early - mid 80's in which Van Halen ruled the radio waves...

Tour information www.van-halen.com. Anthony has agreed to take one for the team, change up our honeymoon plans, and take me to Greensboro NC to see them rather than going to the Keys (as we are diving into wedded bliss on September 29th).

All I have to say is, for $125 floor seats, I better get to hear ICE CREAM MAN!

The Sweetest Story Ever

Everybody who knows me personally knows I am not shy, I am not quiet. I am not backward when it comes to expressing emotion. In other words, I am the complete opposite of my Anthony. Anthony is shy and quiet. He would rather sit quietly somewhere and observe what's going on instead of being what's going on. Opposites truly do attract.

Our tastes and personalities couldn't be more different.
I like top 40, rock, southern rock... He is a bluegrass musician.
I like karaoke bars.... He'd rather be somewhere listening to a live band.
I like sushi & other exotic foods...He'd rather have Burger King or Taco Bell.
I drive like my pants are on fire... He takes his time a & enjoys the scenery.
The differences are many, but the love is the same.

Anyhoo... Anthony wasn't 100% sure about me in the beginning. I think he had been convinced by various mutual acquaintances that I was a complete wild cat and was one to be reckoned with. That, my friends, is just an act.

Still yet, he was gun shy of me enough that even after he had fallen in love with me, he was skeerd to say it. Rather than saying it, everytime he'd come around, he'd have another CD for me and he'd tell me "listen to #8" or whatever number the specific song would be. All of these songs would be lovey-dovey, oooey-goooey ditties. I got the message really fast and eventually he gave in and told me how much he loves me. What's not to love, right?

I just wanted to share the words to a song and the outcome of his profession of love and devotion to me, his Diva.

The song that captured my heart was:
You Are My Flower - Flatt & Scruggs - Circa
It goes a little somethin like this:

You are my flower
That's blooming in the mountain so high
You are my flower
That's blooming there for me

When summertime is gone and snow begins to fall
You can sing this song and say to one and all

So wear a happy smile and life will be worthwhile
Forget the tears but don't forget to smile


Now, ain't that the sweetest thing you've ever seen in your life?

What was the outcome of this? Well, I went and got more ink.

Whew!

Well, kids. Minutes are ticking non-stop and soon I will be moving out of my bachelorette pad into my marital lair. So here I am, with approximately 2.5 weeks to go if I am to be out of my bachelorette pad by the end of this month. I honestly don’t see it happening because there is so damn much to do.
It doesn’t seem that there will be enough days, let alone waking hours to do all of the stuff I have to do before said countdown is over. Seriously doubt I’ll make it by the end of the month, but that’s no big deal. I can pay the rent for one more month and take my time.
So, I'm having a complete meltdown trying to get the black trim in my bedroom covered back up with antique white. What kind of brain fart did I have when I decided to paint my bedroom walls pink with black trim all around?? Honestly, I think I could have found a better way to express my female creativity. But no, I had to have my bedroom look like a Pink Lady jacket. Even though I’m bitching about it now, it was really, really cute. I had pink sheets and black comforter and curtains. My lil girlie space that I shared with NO MAN…. well, at least until I met Tony.

Insight on Women - Part Deux

Women are catty. Especially toward each other. Especially when on woman has performed an act of woman on woman betrayal. It is not something taken lightly and is most likely not to be forgiven.

Over the last several years, I have emerged from spending most of my time locked in the house and being a slave to my life, kids, ex-husband…. blah, blah, blah. I was young (17)when I married my first husband and didn’t experience the “meat market” type bar scene in which women are all in competition with one another to take some schmooo home. Pu-leaze.

Then I toddled into life as a single, grown woman. It was never my intention to pick up on any dude at all. We (the Pirates) were always out, and if you saw one, the rest weren’t too far behind. We generally were out together, as a group, on Wednesday and Friday for close to a year. During that year I witnessed several acts of sluttiness on various levels and even fell victim once to a chick chasing my fella. Of course, this chick (as it turns out) has extremely low self esteem and chases anything with a penis.

Even though I’m not single anymore and I have no desire to go back to yesterdrama… Damn if I don’t hold a helluva grudge toward someone in particular that recently not so directly crossed my path. She was just in the area. The fur on the back of my neck stood up and my claws came out and if I’m not mistaken, I think I even hissed a few times. And they wanted me to come out and have a drink in the same bat bar at the same bat time?? Um. No. I’ll stay home and watch Burn Notice, thanks!

Expressing interest in a man that another woman has already expressed interest in is a huge no-no. Even if you are sadly repugnant and shameless. Wouldn’t you rather keep your girlfriend (who you know will be there for you for life) than to stab her in the back in order to have a one night fling with a man who is going to talk down about you to his friends and other lovers who know about you?

Kissing another girl’s man when she goes to the bathroom is also a big no-no. Seriously. Do you think that his girl isn’t going to find out that you waited until she got up and excused herself from the table, before you not-so-eloquently shoved your tongue down his throat? If the girl has any real friends, they will tell her about your skanky ways as soon as she gets back to the table. In general, you will have lost a friend (maybe several) as well as becoming a laughing stock. (I witnessed this scenario last spring… since I wasn’t involved, it was actually quite amuzing).

A Little Insight into Women

In general, women are emo-kids in adult wrappers. At least I am, and I know alot of other women (my age, younger and older) that are the same way.
Everybody has baggage. By the time you make it into your mid-30’s, if you don’t have baggage, you must not have been doing a very good job at having a life. Many folks, men and women, by the mid-30’s have been married, had children and (in many cases) suffered through an ugly divorce or split with a significant other.
I for one have dished out my fair share (if not much, much more) of questions as to whether my significant other really loves me. I’ve tried to push him away several times, because it’s easier to let go and hurt a little than to really fall in love and get hurt ALOT in the end.
Why did I hit him with the ever present question, “Do you love me?” “Why do you love me?”????
Because I had a life, a past. And the experience wasn’t all good. Not that my life was stricken with hardship on a constant basis, but I was married to a man who had no clue about anything but drugs and video games. Yes, I chose to stay in it a lot longer than was advised. Yes, I could have packed up and left. But, I married him, and I was hellbent to stick with it or die. He was nice to me when he wanted something from me. Otherwise, he said little and did even less.
Then I grew up. I realized it wasn’t healthy and I had to get out. So, I got out. But I found out I had trust issues when I finally jumped. My significant other has NEVER done the first thing to make me think he’s going to hurt or leave me. He has never done anything but open doors for me and treated me like I am his equal.
Could I accept that? Simply put, no.
I ass-u-me (d) that there was no man out there that is genuine. There was no man out there that could really love me, for rowdy old me. There was no man out there that really would ask how my day went just because he wanted to share a few minutes together after work. ETC, ETC, ETC….. the list could go on forever.A woman wants to be happy with a man. Companionship, intimacy… yes, please. But sometimes getting her to accept that not all men are the same is a real challenge. Even if she knows it’s true. Her past may be a horrible, scary monster that must be slayed before she can go on. It can be done if there is room to work on these things in the relationship. If not, it’s doomed, go on.
Men can carry the same baggage, but due to ego and other manly things, it may not be as apparent.