Thursday, April 08, 2010

Facebook Conversation with the Hotband.

As some of you may or may not know, my husband works in another state in the country four days out of the seven day week. This means that we rely very heavily on social media to stay in touch. Cellphones, computers, web cams and of course, Facebook. We spend a lot of time on there talking to one another and more importantly, staying connected to keep the love alive.

Yeah. Like we ever had a problem with THAT! Heh.

My husband loves to post bizarre pictures on Facebook. This works well, because I love to SAY inappropriate things on his Facebook wall. I do this for a couple of reasons. A) I know the things that I say utterly disgust my sister in law and her friend who are friends with my husband. This is my passive/aggressive way of saying "fuck off, dogfaces". B) Any woman from my husbands past will VERY rapidly figure out that the Hotband's wife is, in fact, mentally deranged. There will be no sweet, rekindling of the past love notes sent to my husband so long as they realize I am a danger to myself and others. Especially others.

Try me, bitches.

Anyway, my husband posts a picture of a fucking mountain goat, or maybe it's a ram. Or a friggin' ewe. Whatever. But, it's dangling off an electrical wire in someones backyard. Obviously a photoshop deal (Yes, Blogger....photoshop IS a word. Be gone, red squiggly line!). My husband finds this picture to be a riot and posts it on his page. The following hilarity ensues:

Pee Ess: Names are obviously changed/blocked out for privacy. Most people don't want you to know they are associated with me. Click on the pic to enlarge.










Tony B. likes this.

Eddie:
how??????????????????

Hotband:
LMFAO, I don't know but would have loved to witness it

Kathy:
kinda reminds me of the dead squirrel I had hanging from my porch rafters.... two grown men in this house and I had to go scoop it out with a Walmart bag...lol... I'll post the pic


Hotband:
Ha! Nice


Eddie:
a squirrel weighs what? 1 pound. This thing has to weigh like 40=60 pounds

Hotband:
Could be a photoshop

Kathy:
posted the squirrel and trust me it was real...

CP:
i wish someone would hang me naked from an electrical line. then pinata my ass a few times until i shit candy. that would be fucking sweet.

Eddie:
Hotband, now you're gonna make me break out my CSI Orlando kit.

Hotband:
Babe WTF? LMFAO

CP:
fuck man. i just laughed so hard my tampon dislodged...*ROFLMAO*

Hotband:
Well, I guess it's close enough to candy out of your ass

CP:
oh shit. i'm not even wearing a tampon.
wtf was that then?
*dials 911*

Hotband:
Maybe it was that candy after all?

Eddie:
omfg!!!!

CP:
i dunno. should i taste it? what if it's sticky...and catches on the roof of my mouth? i may choke. i dunno...it's really pretty suspicious looking. maybe i spontaneously aborted my liver through my vagina.

Hotband:
I say you freeze it and wait for me to get home, I'll have a look at it first. If it's edible, we can serve it up when your mom gets here.

CP
omfg. banner day. for once, i am without words.

*bows to the master*

Janet:
omg omg omg omg......

Friday, April 02, 2010

It's all in the attitude, Baby.

It took me time to understand. Admittedly, at times, I still don’t.

He worships this body of mine, this body of breadth and depth. Certainly, he has a selection of waif-like goddesses, all dying to be a part of his harem, and yet, it is at my alter that he genuflects, night after satiated night. While I might get into bed feeling like the Michelin Man on some nights, I leave there a as a Playboy pictorial.

Attitude, baby. It’s all in the attitude.

I was prone to breaking out my old pictures from my former "thin" days. The days before the babies wore down my breasts in their battle to defy gravity. The days when my stomach was a “tummy” and I wore the word “voluptuous” like a crown. I would show him that, once upon a decade ago, I was slender and sleek. In showing ‘him’ these pictures, I was saying, “Look, I was once what every man desires.”

He dismisses my memories and dives for my mammaries.

It’s amazing how easily distracted I can be. I obsess over this body. I see every bump and bang along the way, appraising it like a recently wrecked Mercedes. When he touches me, I am the star of the showroom. I have no mileage and there are no dings or dents. I am an accidental goddess, and I blame him. When the touch is just right, my stomach, normally my nemesis, reacts like a third breast. It stiffens. It hardens. It wants to be kissed.

I have stretch marks from my bouts of birthing babies.

“Roadmaps. Reminders of where you have been in your life”, he states as his tongue maneuvers the dangerous curves of my highways and bi-ways. He drives onward; upward from the deepest valleys to my purple peaked mountains majesty. There are no stop signs on this road. There are no detours to drive him away. No reason to yield and everything is slippery when wet.

If I close my eyes, I am the autobahn, riding him, rather than the other way around.

I have learned to be on top and allow my landscape to be lingered upon. The sweet liberation in the realization that he is not assessing what is right and what is wrong. He is listening to my breathing in response to his. He is godlike, holding the whole world in his hands, being able to see all of me, from heaven to earth. He is not thinking that I weigh more than he, but how I glide so stealthily, so weightlessly upon him.

Moreover, he is filled with pride, while filling me.

He created this misfit, this accidental goddess by allowing me to remember I am more than a body. I am a mind that wanders. I am a soul that fulfills. I am a breath of fresh air and a heart of gold. I am the eyes of the compassionate and the laughter of a child. Astride him, I am patience being pushed to the limit and poetry in motion. When release is achieved, he never releases his hold. I smile. I smirk. I remind myself that I am beautiful in the dark and the light. I remind myself that he is panting helplessly beneath me and I was the cause. I was the cure. I put away my old photographs permanently. I never want to be her again, as he does not desire "that girl", only this woman.

Attitude baby, it’s all in the attitude.

Thursday, April 01, 2010

It has to make you laugh at some point...

There are some hugely influential bloggers online. Example? Perez Hilton. Heh. Not an example? This. (Edited to add:) Or this.

It's awesome to be a legend in ones mind. Truly. I sure as fuck am. With all my flaws and inconsistencies, I still try to grow and evolve as a person constantly. Sometimes, I do it to perfection. Other times, not so much.

What I don't do is lie to my readers. Never.

Don't care if there are six of you or sixty of you. Never mattered to me. Never will. (Well, now, in retrospect, that's not true. I do admit to being a blog whore once upon a time. I gave it up for lent.) Whoever reads this is just as important to me as the next person. And while once upon a time I considered a large readership to be a status symbol, I have definitely grown from that.

What interested me today was that someone asked an "influential blogger" to utilize her blog space to support a charity organization (which I will get to shortly). The person who was supporting the charity was someone who said influential blogger dislikes. However, what in the price of eggs in China does that have to do with you supporting a charity? You have the means, the tools and the time. You blog for several different reader sites. You have FRIENDS who would actually BENEFIT by this program! Military friends! You have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of so many people...but because you don't like someone, you reply with "are you fucking kidding me?"

Really?

This is the same "influential blogger" who loves to tell everyone how compassionate and loving she is.

Reality check?

If you have to TELL people you are compassionate and loving? Um, you're not.

It would be like me having to tell you I'm a bitch. If you can't surmise that about me in the first 30 seconds of meeting me you are either A)Blind as a fucking wombat or B) Dumb as a box of rocks. There is the third option, of course, that I am simply not doing my job as a bitch. That, however, is highly unlikely.

Now, I don't mind so much that you turned this blogger down. It's your blog. You don't want to expend the energy posting about their charity event...cool. That's fine. Would have been the nice/right/humane thing to do and given you the chance to show that you are a bigger person, but hell, why do that?

No. What bothered me was someone saying (and I'm paraphrasing here) "She blocked me off of facebook and twitter so now I can say whatever I want without consequences".

Excuse me?

The blogger that said this to me? Love her. Known her for a long time. Great girl. But really? Consequences? For not liking someone?

What kind of circa 1985 time warp did I fall into here? Are we back in high school? Is there a cool kids table that I don't know about? Why on earth would there be consequences?

Why? Because there is.

Because said "influential blogger" has a whole lot of sheep "baa-baa'ing" at her heels. Sides have been chosen. It boils down to you either like "US"...or you like "THEM".

In the past few weeks during "the DRAMA" (didn't I say I was never going to speak of this again? Heh. C'est la vie. My blog. My rules to break), I have discovered who the sheep really are. There were a lot of mutual friends between US and THEM. It was like a divorce. They got divvied up. Some went to their camp. Some to ours. There have been some who have been "walking the line", so to speak. In other words, they are trying their damndest to stay neutral and remain friends with all parties.

I respect the FUCK out of those people because, man. I know it surely hasn't been easy to do.

But, back to consequences.

I, for one, believe for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I am also a believer in karma. A VERY strong believer in karma. Everyone gets their comeuppance eventually. I don't WISH this on people. It's just the way the world works.

What a phenomenal thing it would have been for said "influential blogger" to have said, you know what? I think I WILL send out a post about this charity. After all, I have whored out my blog before for lesser things (and honestly, who among us has not?) and this would be a great opportunity for me to show the world that I am so much smaller than the big picture!

No. Instead, we have people worrying about what other people are going to think.

I was at a point earlier this week where I was going to apo-apo-apo...*gags* apologize *cough* for some of the things that I said to and about said blogger. Some of the things I said were cruel and inadvertently directed at a victim of the scenario and not the perpetrators. I felt bad about that. I did. It's been eating at me.

But then, as Cyndi Lauper so eloquently put it...I see your true colors shining through.

And suddenly, I find myself apathetic as opposed to apologetic.

After all, if nothing changes...nothing changes.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is my Razorblade Tomato for the day.

That said, let me leave you with this:

Think for yourselves. Be yourselves. Don't worry about what other people think of you. Life is too short for you not to live it to the fullest. Keep yourself raised up. Do for others, not out of pity or obligation, but because it really makes you fill up the happy tank. Stay charitable and humble. Remember when you are in crisis, someone out there has far greater struggles than you. Pain is temporary, ugly is forever.

Be beautiful.

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Thank you.
 

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