Adventures in Horrorland

Adventures in la la land

2011-04-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

As per my previous post, I've been very busy. There is no slowing down in sight. I did, however, take the day off today. I'm typically off work Saturday's though I go to school from 9-3:30. I love school, but I've been extremely overwhelmed and well, pregnant lately, thus the day off. Part doctors orders, part brain explosion, I have a enjoyed a very relaxing, very quiet day at home today.

These last two weeks I've worked over 90 hours, plus school, plus taking care of the kiddos, plus being six and a half months pregnant make Mal a very dull girl. Last Sunday I was supposed to go to my friend's house for a bbq but I was extremely tired from being me, so I opted for the movies instead. I am very bored with life right now. Not to be confused with bored in general, as I'm busier than a whore on dollar night, just bored with life. I'm so busy I don't have time to see my friends, nor do I really want to make the effort because I'm so tired after my busy days and want nothing more than to throw on my pajamas and watch yet more Law & Order. The latter always wins out. Breathe is not the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I'm so greateful for my current life, don't get me wrong, but I am most definitely grateful for this free day. I'm actually getting a chance to blog! Even though my blogging "skills" lately have been a little rough around the edges. Back in the day, I had each blog prewritten in my head before sitting down in front of my computer. Now, it takes me roughly an hour or so to write out one very short paragraph. I blame the baby for my current state of brain. I can barely keep my clients straight, much less think about the things I want to blog about throughout my day.

Absentminded IS the right word. I don't even really know what I'm talking about right now. This baby better be a genius. Well, off to do some more lounging around on the couch looking like a beached whale.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important...life!

2011-03-11T17:08:00.000-08:00

My life has been hectic, to say the least. Along with this pregnancy sucking the life out of me as aliens do, I'm running on the fumes of fumes. I work full-time, over 40 hours a week and go to school on one of my days off. Why would I do this to myself? Well, I may be a little crazy. Or Ambitious, however you want to look at it. Since my impregnation, my life got thrown into hyperdrive. The impending doom of having to get a new car and house for my ever expanding, amazon family, as previously stated in my last blahg, lit a fire under my ass, so to speak. Which with the gross pregnancy symptom of gas looming around every corner, that may not be the best idea.

But I digress. My schedule has thrown me into a state of constant weariness. I love my work, however, after even just 3 hours in a row on my feet, my body pretty much hates me and trys to betray me by sending shooting pains through my hips and back and my puppies start barking like a dog to a mailman. And school? I enjoy it immensely. It's fun, interesting and challenging, which is right up my alley, though it does take away from one of my days off, but surprisingly enough, I don't feel as tired as I do after a day at work.

While I'm not at work, I still have sarcastic, rebellious children to contend with and a boyfriend who would like me to actually put my clothes away...who does that? Oh, everybody? Well, I like to think of myself as different. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Putting my clothes away is a tedious extra chore which I would like to avoid like the plague. A chore which I do succesfully avoid like the plague. I don't want to spend my one day off doing something boring. I'd rather lay on the couch and watch endless hours of Law & Order: SVU, thanks to Netflix.

On top of all that, it is currently wedding season. So that keeps me busy making veils and other such hair baubles for one of the most important days in a woman's life. This however, I do not hate. I really love the process of sewing and beading and playing with feathers, oh my! If I could get paid, and get paid well, just to do that? I would. In a heartbeat! But alas, this is not my life. I cut and color and perm and will hopefully some day real soon will assist dentists drilling away in people's dirty, dirty mouths. It's a lot of fun! But hard and scary all at the same time. Making veils and hair baubles is relaxing for me. Plus I get to sit on my couch and watch copious amounts of Hoarding and Law & Order:SVU while dilligently applying crystals to Russian tulle. Can you tell I'm obsessed with Law & Order just a bit?

Pregnancy aside, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to handle all of this were I able to still work out and drink lots of coffee as was done pre bun being placed in my oven. I don't work out because my body seems to not want to cooperate and keep me in a constant state of pain. I am of the belief this little guy is going to be a genius as well as rambunctious. Genius? I'm surprised I remember my name. I believe he is taking all my smarts. So I'm tired and dumb. So what, right? It'll all be worth it in the end, and this kid better be an Einstein or else.

That is my life as of late. I don't see my friends as often as I'd like, if ever because when I'm not at school or work, I like to sit on my growing ass and stare at the tv with drool dripping down my chin. Ah well, love it or hate it, it's mine, all mine and I am making it work, even if I am half asleep through most of it.

The (mis)adventures of motherhood

2011-02-24T16:01:00.000-08:00

My kids are amazons. I'll just throw that out there. They keep getting bigger and bigger every day and I just can't keep up. The genius now stands at a whopping 5'11" at the ripe young age of 13, wearing a size twelve shoe. The princess stands at 5' tall, wears a women's size 7 shoe and has bigger boobs than most 16 year olds...she's 9.

The poor genius is walking around with near high waters because we can't keep up with his growth spurts. Not to mention the fact that man pants are more expensive than little boy pants. Little princess is starting to complain about the boys at her school staring at her boobs. I told her to get used to it, as she is already taking after yours truly, what with my size DDD bust. I feel her pain. It's hard to explain to her the many facets of puberty. I don't remember ever getting that "talk" from my mom, so how am I supposed to explain things to my daughter? And the genius spends a little too much time in the shower. I want to believe he really does just want to be real clean, but J thinks he's actually having a spankin' good time. Since he was once an overactive teenage boy once upon a time, he must know these things. Things I'd rather not think about. Ick.

So it seems I will soon be dealing with another penis. We have found out that we are having a boy. The princess is happy, but not, as she will now be the only girl of five boys between my sister and I. However, I informed her, she will hold her reigning title as most spoiled girl in the family. To which she replied, "MOM, I don't like being spoiled! Memo and Nana buy me too many clothes." Yeah, sure, who doesn't like being spoiled. I know I sure as hell do. She also claims she is no longer a child. "MOM, I don't play with dolls anymore. I'm NOT a child." Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression 12 was the official cut off for the child label. Another of her gems to prove she is not a child? The constitution last night that she WOULD be America's Next Top Model when she turns 18, after which she goes on to tell me two girls at the renaissance fair stared at her and told her she was "so pretty." Her head may be a little big.

As fun as the kiddos are, it's nice to get a little break from them every weekend when they go to their dad's house. I am definitley enjoying that time now before the baby comes since I won't be able to just send this one to his dad's. It's karma for me teasing my sister that she never gets alone time because she refuses to divorce her husband. Karmic retribution. Now, however, their father just informed me that he may take on a job as a truck driver. Uh oh. Full time parenting. It's been years since I've had them the full week. And then there were three. Needless to say, life is about to get a lot more interesting over at my house. Thank goodness for J though. Since I've been prego my energy level has dropped immensely. When they say you get energy in the 2nd trimester, I am not part of that 'you'. He cleans the kitchen every day, sweeps, feeds the animals and checks homework. All while I watch from the comfort of the couch with half closed eyes. I'm not mad about it.

One thing's for sure, I need to get a bigger house and a bigger car. The kids, especially the genius, no longer fit comfortably in my CR-V. I may have to break down and buy a mini-van. Kids do get more expensive the older they get. And baby makes 3.

Adventures in pregoland

2010-12-29T16:58:00.001-08:00

It’s official. I’m pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. Almost 10 years later, on July 6, 2011, I will return to my misadventures in child rearing.

I never thought I’d be having another baby at this stage in my life. Having never wanted any kids, I shelved my dreams of running off to California to follow in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps to live my life on the beach, writing poetry and stories of my adventures, and instead embraced my new life as a mom. I raised, I reared, I disciplined. I have not yet conquered.

Eight years to go until freedom.

That is no longer the case. I guess that’s what happens when you have unprotected sex with your live-in boyfriend. You’d think I would have learned my lesson from the first two.

In all seriousness though, I am pretty excited about the baby. This time it’s different and I’m ready. With my son, I was 17, in my senior year and not the least bit ready. So naturally, I hid the pregnancy for about four months, at which time my mom saw my changing body and confronted me because ‘every mother knows’. I then had to deal with the stressors of being just another pregnant teenage Mexican, something which I’d worked very hard to avoid. Apparently not hard enough. No Mtv’s “16 and Pregnant” offering me money to tell my story. Nope, it was more like my orchestra teacher trying to keep me from performing so as not to influence the kids who looked up to me to get knocked up. I had a pink mohawk…I doubt I was much looked up to at the time. Not to mention the fact that the purveyors of my high school were already having unprotected sex and abortions long before I joined the ranks of the sexually active.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was in the midst of my roaring 21st year where I’m pretty sure I was drunk more often than I was sober. My ex and I were separated at the time and merely started sleeping together when his mom died of lung cancer. It was a very melancholy period and I decided that some vodka was in order…and apparently some sex. Note to self: it’s never a good idea to console someone with your vagina. It opens up a huge can of worms that’s better left tightly sealed. But alas, the universe had other plans for me. I was in a state of denial. I did not want to be pregnant. I was having way too much fun spreading my wings, so to speak. I mean, I had just gotten so good at drinking, no boy could drink me under the table. I was a champ at beer bongs and beer pong and waterfalls, oh my! I was dating, well, dating for a constantly drunken 21 year old girl whose favorite pastime was to prowl college parties for hot, young collegiate. The very last thing I wanted was another baby. Especially after my best friend gave birth to her baby four months before my due date brought back the memories of my previously painful and traumatizing birthing experience. Shortly after though, I said ‘see you later’ to my party ways and got ready for baby number two.

I am now a very strong believer in the everything happens for a reason school of thought.

This time, though it was, surprise, not a planned pregnancy, I’m at peace with the fact that I will now have three mini-me’s. I didn’t have to hide it from anyone. My party ways have long since left me since I no longer have the energy to get all gussied up for a night on the town, or rather, a night full of beer and instead traded it for nights in watching zombie movies with Jason and my pipe. So I don’t really feel like I’m missing anything, though I’m sure my friends are probably having way more fun than I am. I doubt that they are having as many crazy adventures as I am though. My life is never boring, that’s for damn sure. What with a 13 year old boy with out of control hormones and bouts of emo-ness and a 9 year old girl who thinks she’s in her 20’s and is learning how to skate board, breaking her first bone recently. An ex-husband who’s, well, a hand full. My mother living in my back yard and a sister who lives two houses away from me which grants me a bevy of teenage boys running in and out of my house and a cat who seems as though she is constantly in heat and who I’m pretty sure is trying to kill me. Yup, I’d say my life is never boring, as much as I would sometimes like it to be. So I feel as though I’m ready for this. Upon hearing the news Jason immediately started wondering if we would be able to ‘do this’. “Yes,” I replied, “It’s just a baby. No big deal, I’ve done this before.” With that being said, I will admit that I am a little scared. It has, after all, been almost 10 years since I’ve had a baby. Contrary to popular belief, it is not like riding a bicycle.

So I happily lay my fat, pregnant ass on the couch all day when I’m not working watching movies and eating food I know I shouldn’t be eating even though I crave it constantly. I’m pretty sure the baby will come out looking like a cheeseburger. I’m keeping a list of names I like and cleaning the house constantly when I have tiny bouts of energy that are few and far between. I’ll tell you what, being pregnant at 17 and 21 is a huge difference to being pregnant at 31. I’m older, more tired, more surly and have more aches and pains than my 66 year old mom. Plus, I don’t think I can handle bigger boobs. What’s the size after DD? Because that’s where I’m headed, and that is never a place I wanted to be. Ah, such is life.

Everything really does happen for a reason. And then there were 3.

Adventures of a once dark and cynical mistress

2010-10-25T11:19:00.000-07:00

I've been real happy lately. So basically, I find that writing is a little harder for me now. Being that I drew on my dark, cynical and depressed nature for material which made it, in my opinion, witty, funny and dryly sardonic. That and the fact that I no longer drink, there are no more adventures in which I get shit housed, wake up next to a guy I barely know and therefor have some writing material, what with my gruesome feelings of loneliness and depravity. What have I turned into?!

I'm actually glad that things are going so well, though, regardless of my need for self loathing for writings sake. I just don't find my happy life as funny or interesting. I work, I go home, I hang out with the boyfriend, take care of the kids, get high, pass out, lather, rinse and repeat. It's weird, I went for so long being angry and hating life, and not because of my failed relationships and one night stands, though I do miss those...the one night stands, that is, NOT the failed relationships as I consider those the stepping stones to the awesome that I have since become. The excitement of meeting a new guy, dirty making out at the bar, dry humping in the parking lot, leaving a note thanking him for the hot sex and slipping out into the wee hours of the morning while he slumbers. Ah, good times. Now I feel the excitement when my boo sparingly decides he wants his D in my G. Oh how the times have changed.

In all seriousness, things are going well. After his stint in rehab and a couple of months readjusting to sober life, he seems to be standing up straight, so to speak, working and learning how to have fun without the aid of drugs or alcohol. I, on the other hand, still smoke to my heart's content. I can't help it, I don't sleep otherwise. And I just like getting high, guess I can't really church it up. I should probably put the pipe down for a while soon though, I feel my blonde roots showing through more and more even though I only smoke at night. My stoner retardedness has gotten the best of me lately. Also maybe a reason for the drop in blahging...I'm not up all night, feeble from insomnia and pissed off at the world for the lack of good late night television. Go figure. But I digress.

So the kids are doing real well. So well, in fact that my 13 year old sometimes emo, sometimes obnoxious giant of a kid has been invited and accepted into the National Junior Honor's society and has decided to enroll in a highly academic charter school for his duration of high school. The princess has been doing quite well for herself as well. While she rocks a faux hawk with confidence, as a result of a pesky and persistent lice problem, she's getting straight A's. Although it is quite easy to make straight A's in the 4th grade, she's doing so well her teacher gave her an A in writing, which she informed me she never does, and told me that she is basically a perfect student. Which made me wonder if she had the right kid. She's also playing the violin, which makes me so happy because I played it for many, many years.

Note to all the bitches whom have judged this book by it's cover: HA! My kids are awesome and well rounded and doing great in life in general. So suck on that.

The only thing that's missing is enough money to fully pay my own bills so I don't have to depend on the maternal unit so much. Though I see that light at the end of the tunnel as I've been busier at work and J has starting working a little more full time lately. So yay for that.

So my dark thoughts have been pushed back to the depths of my huge brain while happy thoughts fill the forefront and infect the rest of my mind with flowers and rainbows and puppies, oh my! I need to find a balance between darkness and happy. We'll see how that goes.

Now I must sit my happy ass at work for another 3 hours, after which J will take me shopping for a new hoody (i love hoodies more than shoes) and take me to a nice dinner. See?! Happy. Ugh.

xoxo

A search for...something

2010-10-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

Oftentimes I wonder why I haven’t found myself yet. 31 and I feel like I am finally coming into my own, but how am I to know really. And the fact that I have to question whether or not I've found myself, whatever that means, also shows that I may have not found myself.

In my current relationship though, I feel more at ease and have easily fallen into the wife-mother-woman paradox, more or less, though the wife part is technically girlfriend but I feel as if I've now been married for 10 years! My first relationship was all first everything's so there wasn't much time to figure anything out. The second relationship was, well, I don't really know what that was. It was me on the rebound searching for someone to love me with stars in my eyes and blinders to cheaters on. Words falling out of an untruthful mouth upon trusting ears. That's what that was. This one, well this one has been a flurry of partying, hangovers, drugs and sobering up. So now is the good part where we can actually relax and just be in the relationship, so to speak. Basically, I couldn't be happier at the moment.

There is still something tugging at the back of my mind though. The loss of my self in all this mothering, girlfriending, managing shit.

Through all this "who am I" shit, I’ve figured out what my problem is. At the peak of my teenage-hood I was impregnated. It was the second semester of my senior year as I was really coming into my own. I graduated, 7 months pregnant, got married to my high school sweetheart and had my son. Three and a half years later, in the midst of our seperation, I became with child again.

Note to self: never console an ex over a dead relative with your vagina.

9 months later, my daughter was born. I was 22. Having just started on a sexual quest I was abrubtly shoved back into the screaming world of motherhood. Or at least more so than I was before. Strapped down with two kids and a husband, how is one to find what you want to be? You're hard to find amongst cries of “Mommy, I’m hungry!”, “Mommy wipe my ass!”, “Mommy, I want, I want, I want!” what’s a mother to do, but delve into the role the universe so obviously wanted me to star in and try, hard as it may be, to embrace it. Thirteen years later, as I write this, I still wonder, “Who am I?"

Although given that my youngest is almost in her double digits, age wise, I do believe that in 9, hopeully, short years I will be left to my own devices and my lifelong search for self as the kiddos embark on their own adventures in horrorland on a quest to find themselves.

All I can say is, I’m as lost as the rest of you, but I'm happy, so that counts for something, right? Right?

Rescue me

2010-08-23T18:04:00.000-07:00

I'm bored. Bored with life, with work, with things in general. Not that I dislike my life, since things seem to be slowly, but surely falling into place. I think it's just the stress of everyday life that's boring me. I'm bored with stress. Though who's to say stress is fun. Entertaining at times, but never fun. The boyfriend and I are in a better place, he's doing well with his new found soberness. The kids are finally back in school, so my daily food supply has gone up and the daily knife fights between the kiddos has lessened. I'm working out daily and eating better, so I'm losing weight and feeling better about myself. But the stress is there. It's slow at work right now, the bad economy plus a slow season equals me sitting on my ass NOT getting paid to do nothing. On the plus side, I've gotten a lot of summer reading done. The slowness, however, corelates with the stressors of not having enough money to pay all my bills. Something I've come to become fond of, since I like having a phone, cable, oh, and a house to live in with electricity and water and gas. All silly things to want, but a necessary evil none the less.

I don't know. I feel lately like I'm aimlessly wandering through life with unseeing eyes. Nothing catching my attention for longer than 5 minutes. Like walking through a fog and catching a glimpse of a ray of light, but losing interest in looking for it after an unsuccessful 5 minutes.

::sigh:: I hate feeling like this. And good sex doesn't even seem to be quashing this feeling. That's when you know something's wrong with me...when a good romp in the sack can't pull me out of my emo-ness. Generally, there's nothing like a good shag to get me out of any funk. Guess this might be one of those things I might have to actually face head on to figure out what it is. Pshaw, who wants to do that? Not I, said the fly.

Before I bore myself to sleep with this boring blahg, I'll leave it at that. Ruts are not fun to talk about with the general public unless I know what the cause of said rut is. Until next time.

xoxo

Things and stuff and whatever

2010-08-16T19:21:00.000-07:00

I used to think my brain was big. Huge even. Why would I think this? Because 90% of my cousins, along with the nickname 'cupcake', called me pumpkin head. Not like the movie, but because they said my head was so big. I have since learned that my head wasn't really that big but that I just hadn't grown into it. And in having a big head, I was under the conviction that I just had a really big brain. This may not be true. Currently, my mind is so overrun with random crap that my normal sized brain is filled to the brim. Here is a list of what is currently on this massive organ of mine.

1. Money: this is one thing that will never go away. Unless I start making a shit ton of it, in which case I'm sure I will become obsessed with making more, as I already am, just not as ambitiously. This being on my mind because I don't make enough of it. Supporting 4 people on my small, commission based income is no bueno. The bad economy and the slow summer months are definitely taking its toll. More and more of my clients are waiting longer between haircuts and colors, or no longer getting colors done by me, that it hurts. But, no use crying over spilled milk, I just gotta keep on keeping on (yes, I just said that...I may also be going crazy).

2. Excercise: I have started working out at an actual gym. No longer do my workouts consist of sitting on the couch wearing workout gear watching Charmed while saying I'm going to move my ass. And so far so good! I have lost 10.5 pounds, which I think is pretty sweet. 50 more pounds to go! One good thing I can say about excercise is that I get a mad rush of endorphins and feel kind of high, which helps since I no longer drink.

As I write this, my mind has gone totally blank! I really need to start writing stuff down when I think it so I don't have these problems. I could also probably get more sleep, stop stressing and lay off the pipe, then maybe I could finish a blog without feeling like an asshole since I thought I was so clever writing this and have to stop midway to say I feel like an asshole for forgeting what I'm writing about. Well, it probably wasn't that important OR clever anyway.

Ah, such is life in horrorland. Until next time.

xoxo

Adventures in old lady land

2010-07-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

I am currently of the belief that I am experiencing a mid-life crisis. I am, however, not in mid-life. How does that work? I'm not really sure, but what I am sure of is that I am getting restless. The problem is that I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be at the ripe ole age of 31. Published novel? Sure. Traveling the world? Normal. Has any of that happened? No. I am well aware of how many people my age and even older, are in the same predicament...however, I am only worried about myself for the moment.

While I hold a management title at my salon, I'm not very busy, as a stylist that is. While in the midst of the hellish summer months, most people flee the state for cooler pastures. Snow birds fly north for the summer while the ASU students find their ways back home with laundry baskets brimming and a break from the busy season of partying, otherwise known as education. Not to mention the shitty economy we are suffering, my income is less than a teenagers first job, Not fun. That stacked with my mounting stressors and a recently turned teenage boy and a 9 going on 30 year old girl, the chaos has brought me to my knees succumbing to what, in my mind, is a mid-life crisis.

And yes, I do understand that in order to go through a mid-life crisis, you have to be middle aged. I, however, have convinced myself that since I had the genius at the ripe, young age of 18, that pushes me up to middle age status. My tremendous amount of white hair should also be a factor. Ok, I exaggerate sometimes, doesn't mean I don't feel that I have way too much white hair for a 30 something, hot young mother.

This is exactly why I was of the "I don't wanna grow up" mantra growing up. I knew that getting older, while holding some likable benefits, really is a huge pain in the ass. I mean, besides the bills, raising kids and that whole being responsible thing, I don't see a whole lot to look forward to. At least until after my 60's since I'll have already gone through menopause and will be retired. Oh, and my kids will be grown, and hopefully, out of my house.

Ah, such is life. I think my biggest problem at the moment, besides rapidly growing older, is that I complain too much. Try as I might, I can not find the bright happy sunshine light at the end of the tunnel everyone around me is telling me to look for. Maybe a big decision I'm trying to make will help relieve my stress/bitchiness, at least a little.
Until then, yours truly, Malice in Horrorland

What is yet to come

2010-06-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a minute since I've been on here. Truth be told, I got a little lazy with the whole blogging thing, mainly because I haven't had internet for some months now. I know, I know, I could have taken my lazy ass to a library, coffee shop or McDonalds for the free wifi, but the thought of sitting there blogging just makes my skin crawl. At the moment, I still don't officially have the net at home, but I can, however, sit in my increasingly hot back yard to catch a signal. For some strange reason (read: my house is brick) I can't get a signal anywhere in my house...but 5 feet from the back door? Sure, I get all the signal I need. So I have recently decided to suffer through the hell that is Arizona and happily type my sweaty ass off for the sake of my one loyal reader. Hey, I'm just realistic. Well, I will be revamping soon, meanwhile, I'm fighting with photoshop with an image I had Jason draw up for me for http://www.cafepress.com/porvida, Check it out. I'm trying my hand at the wonderful world of entrepreneaurship. Maybe I should try my hand at the wonderful dictionary so I can learn how to spell, because I'm pretty sure I fucked that up. Ah well, such is life, I'm overworked, under payed...blah blah blah. So after my battle with photoshop, I've decided to revamp this lil' page cause it's about damn time. I apologize for the clusterfuck of words, I'm just not in the mood to be literarily correct. So have a great night and we will chat soon. I promise...dad.

Life at the moment

2010-03-12T19:13:00.000-08:00

It has been quite a while since I've been on here. What have I been up to as of late, you may ask? And by you, I mean the one person who still reads this every 6 months when i deign to write something. I've been up to not a whole lot. Mostly work. And making stuff, still. I've decided I need to get back to blahgging and writing because my creativity has gone down the toilet and I need to fish it out, so to speak. I also need to get my ass on the ball with my wedding head pieces so I can make some much needed money. Wow, I feel real boring right now. But I don't really have a lot of time at the moment, so this will be short and sweet. And...the end.

More adventures in horrorland

2009-09-14T14:34:00.000-07:00

At the moment, I’m feeling very bored with my life. I have no idea why, since my life is always one “adventure” after another. The most recent of adventures I am going to embark on is getting evicted from my very first, on my own apartment. So that’s fun. What can I say? I’m trying to be positive about the whole thing. I was irresponsible and didn’t really have the money to afford it, so I’m out. I’m actually surprised they didn’t kick me out sooner! So I go to court tomorrow to officially get booted, but not before I give my reasons as to why I got so behind, of which I have none. At least no real good reason. What does all this mean? It means me amping up my plan to get a house. It’s funny because I’ve noticed in my life that when I have a plan for something, I never actually get to execute said plan on my own, I’m always pushed into it by outside forces. Go figure.
I recently applied for and got the assistant manager position at my salon. I’m pretty stoked about it. I wanted to be a manager but I didn’t want to leave this salon because I like the girls, well most of them anyway, and frankly I don’t like change. So I bided my time until I could charm my way in. And the manager here is great (kissing ass never hurt) so I’m really happy about it. There is a girl here though who doesn’t like me because she thinks I “narced” her out when she left early one night, when really I told her she had to call the manager and ask her if she could leave early, so I was surprised when el jefe asked me why she had left early, and I told her. I don’t need to lie for anybody, I’m a bad liar, as she well knows. I don’t even lie for my friends here at work. If you’re not here, you’re not here and it shows on our books, so yeah, if this girl thinks I’m going to lie for her ever, she’s retarded. She keeps talking about her “concerns” for me being a manager. She was in shock because blah blah blah. Work dram, never a good time.
The genius started junior high this year. I’m still not over it. The other day when I dropped him off at school there was a channel 15 news camera there asking parents questions about I don’t even know what. They skipped me. He probably thought I was Shawn’s older sister what with all my tattoos, piercings and shocking red hair. The mistake happens. A lot. He actually got carded with me one day when I was buying beer! The woman looked at us both like we were retarded for thinking we could get away with the purchase of alcohol, “I.D.’s please,” she said snootily. Shawn and I just looked at each other, I looked back at her and explained that he was only 12 and my son, so he doesn’t have identification besides his school card. She looked at me like I was lying, snootily retorted that she then needed to see my drivers license, which I promptly handed her, as she sneered. She looked at the i.d., looked at me, looked at the i.d., looked at me then handed it back with a smirk on her face. Hey, last time I checked, you work at circle k cashier lady, so don’t be a judger. Yes, I had my son young, but I still don’t look like I’m anywhere near under the age of 21 and yes, I am old enough to have a 12 year old. Oh the joys of parenthood. The princess is a different story. She gets mouthier and frostier with every passing day. Everyone says she’s just like me, so I guess I can’t really say anything other than, sorry mom! Is there a program where we can send our pre-pre-teen daughters away until the age of 18? Sign me up.
I am still, surprisingly, in a relationship. And with the same guy. Who knew I could make it past the 6 month mark. We’ll be at 9 months in a few short days. Weird how I even remember the date I decided I wanted to be “exclusive”. The reason I say ‘I’ is because he asked to be official 2 ½ weeks into dating, and I hesitated because I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing, so I distracted him from me saying no by having more sex with him. I fully expected to lay him a few times, maybe for a couple of weeks then move on. Damn his charming nature. So I say remembering the date is odd for me since I don’t even remember the date I got married. Maybe this date was just more important since it is an actual adult relationship. Who really knows. The whole thing confounds me anyway. As do most things.
So off I go to, hopefully, straighten my shit out so my adventures aren’t full of too many twists and turns, but I draw the line at balls.

Story of my so-called life...lately

2009-06-07T13:19:00.001-07:00

I’m bored today. I’m at work, and I think I would like doing hair more if there was hair for me to do. I don’t even have anything valid to say, I’m just so bored that I decided to blahg since I haven’t done it in over a month I think. I fear I’m going through a writer’s block period. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been real lazy and don’t write as often as I should. I know ya’ll are just dying from not having my usual pearls of wisdom to read or from not being able to live a glamorous life vicariously through me. Oh wait, my life was never glamorous. My total bad.

I think that’s all I have to blab about. Um, let’s see. I got a new tattoo.

That’s exciting. At least for me, I feel the pride of having just run a marathon when I actually get the bf to tattoo me. He says it makes him nervous and he hates hurting me…even if I’m asking for it. Weird.

What else, what else. My life has been boring lately. My mind just addled with my mounting financial problems. I mean, who knew that being an adult and having to pay your own rent would be this hard when you don’t make any money? Apparently not me. I have, however, gotten off my lazy ass so to speak, and started making more hair accessories, as requested by some people that are actually willing to give me money for my crafty wares.

If I can get a credit card I’m going to put them on etsy.com for sale. Maybe I can rustle up some money to help me actually pay my rent. Weird that my landlord wants money in exchange for me living in his apartment. What’s that word for when someone lives somewhere and doesn’t pay rent? Oh yeah, squatter.

Work has been so-so at best. Working on commission is apparently not a good idea when you’re a single mom. I have good clients, but with the whole world financial crisis hub bub they come fewer and far between, unfortunately for me. In July I will be styling a girls’ hair for a calendar shoot she’s doing, so that’s cool. Maybe I can talk some other girls to pay me to do their hair. After all, I love styling 50’s style pin up hair. I can’t wait for my hair to grow out so I can style it like I used to with the 50’s curl in my bangs, which I got made fun of mercilessly by most people because it wasn’t the “cool” thing to do like it is now and I often got told I should put a surfer cause it looked like a wave and at some times a bird in my “nest”. I thought it looked pretty and that’s all that matters. Ok, I’m done with my 5 second girl hair moment.

I guess that’s going to be it for now. I have nothing really interesting left to say and I always feel like my blahgs should be witty and clever but I don’t feel very witty or clever today. So before I bore all ya’ll to tears, I’ll end it here. Although, I’m bored to tears and since misery loves company…Nah, I’m done. I get to leave this twilight zone never ending day soon to go to a baby shower and mama needs to put some food in her belly first. So off to Cheba hut…I hope.

Adventures in Hairland...a rant

2009-05-04T21:58:00.000-07:00

I don't understand why people insist on bringing in their kids, or their whole family for that matter, into the salon when they get their hair cut. The kids are always the brattiest, most annoying kids and the families usually want to sit around the person getting the cut so then we, the stylists, have to walk around them, or they bump into you mid-cut because they want to take up all the space around them. It's like the clients are scared to come in alone. We don't bite. Unless specifically requested. And even then its more on a case by case basis. So find a babysitter or send your family members to the Dollar Tree next door, take 15-30 minutes out of your time to come in alone. I promise you won't disappear and turn up in a dumpster somewhere.

The worse is when a woman comes in for a color, perm or anything that takes at least an hour and they bring in the bratty kids or crying baby. If you can't find a babysitter, wait to come in when you can. I have kids and I do not subject the public to their brattiness, not that they're bratty, they're actually very well behaved, unlike most kids, but that's a completely different rant in its own. Oh yeah, and the people that do this are usually low tippers, so not only did I have to cut/color your hair with your demon spawn crying and standing in my way, you only gave me $1-$3 for my services of having to deal with your complete lack of parenting and disciplining skills. Thanks. Please do not come again.

Another thing I don't like is cutting kids hair. The majority of kids cry or scream or fidget or won't let you direct their heads where you need them. These are always the kids that have picky parents. You know, the ones that want a 0 fade on their squirmy 2 year old. It's hard enough to do that on an adult. But the picky parents want what they want but refuse to take the kid to a kid friendly salon where they get to sit in cars and watch cartoons. No they bring them into a full service salon and comb the kids hair while I'm trying to finish the cut. Not to mention spoke about the last stylist who cut the kids hair and what an awesome job they did. Well, if Crystal did such a great job then why don't you request her next time instead of ruining my night. Also maybe next time let me know that Crystal used clippers on the cut last time, and maybe make note on what clipper guard Crystal used that way I'm not playing the guessing game. Next time just take Crystals card so I don't have to talk to your annoying face. Can you guess I've had my night ruined by just such a picky mom?

Life

2009-04-06T22:55:00.000-07:00

You know you're spending too much time with your boyfriend when you're watching a movie, spot a camel toe and freeze frame to show him. This also shows that I also spend way too much time with boys since my weekly movie night is spent with the boyfriend and the brother. I often make comments about being a a fifteen year old boy trapped in a girls body. I said that to a male client the other day and he responded, "Wow, you must be really horny." Weird. Then he gave me a ten dollar tip. On a side note, the boyfriend is coming with me tomorrow to meet my dad for the first time. Him, not me. I've already met my dad. I'm a little nervous though. All the issues I have with commitment, meeting my dad is serious. At least in the relationship department. It'll be all good, I know they'll love each other. Que sera, sera.

Whores, queers and more

2009-03-30T16:37:00.001-07:00

I often pride myself on my confidence and how secure I am with myself. But sometimes there are women that I believe are put here on Earth just to make us feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Currently for me that girl is the boyfriends chick he dated before we started dating. I don't know what it is about her but I just hate her and I've never even met the girl. It's just everything about her that bothers me...not to mention the fact that she seems like that girl that doesn't give a shit if he has a girlfriend or not. Oh and the fact that she texted him a topless picture of herself a few days before my birthday. I think I just put my finger on why I hate her so much. Girls like that should just be shipped off to a deserted island with all the other cast off whores. Now THAT would make the world a better place.

As the kiddos get older, I've noticed some of the conversations I have with them are more and more like the convos I have with my friends. The other day the princess and I were watching tv and she kept sayin, "That is SO gay." "OMG (yes she actually says that) that person is so gay." "That song is so gay." "Why do you think everything's gay?" I asked her. "Well I just think it's gay, a.k.a. stupid," she replies as if I don't know. "Well not everything has to be gay. Maybe you're gay." "No mom, I'm not gay because then I would have to like girls. And, like, I like girls, but not like that." Oh, ok, I wasn't sure about what that whole gay thing meant. Oddly enough the next day I was talking to the genius and asked him if he liked girls yet. The ex is convinced that he was checking out our friends' 12 year old daughter. So naturally a mother gets curious, and a mother like me is nosy and asks about it. "No mom, I DON'T like girls yet."
"Oh, well do you like boys maybe?"
"Ew mom! I'm not GAY!"
"Well it's not that big of a deal if you are, I just want to know."
"I'm not gay, I just don't like girls yet. But I will when I'm older."
He told me!

I've recently decided I need to become more ambitious in my business dealings. If not to be successful, to actually be able to pay my full rent on time. I like making my own hair accessories and I've recently gone to the extent of finding the weirdest things to put in my hair, one of which is feathers, a teeny cowboy hat and a mini humming bird, to name a few. A friend of mine suggested I sell some of my hair baubles on etsy.com and I figured it'd be a good idea to sell some of my other random art type things I like to make. We'll see how that turns out. On the hair cutting front however, I'm getting motivated more and more everyday. While I don't plan on this being my absolute career for the rest of my life, I would like to make the most of it for at least the next 10-15 years of my life. Recently one of the managers was demoted. So what does that mean for me? If I get my shit together, a.k.a. as the princess would say, come in on time, stay all day, don't pass up clients, etc., etc. I can hopefully advance in this company. A chance for advancement is a little more motivating than coming in and sitting here for 8 hours and only getting about 4 haircuts. Management? Now that's the way to go. I'm getting too old to fuck around anymore and it's time to get this party started. And by party, I mean my career.

I guess we'll see what happens with everything. I just need to do and stop with the procrastination. This little girl is growing up...finally. Reluctantly.

Things

2009-02-20T15:24:00.001-08:00

Things I am a fan of in 2009:

1. Buying tv series' on dvd.

2. Never thought I'd say this, but my boyfriend. He's pretty cool, or whatever.

3. My baby nephew. Again, I never thought I'd say this, but I actually like this baby.

4. Sleeping. This is just a carry over from 2008, but I actually get it now. And I never want to live without it again!

5. Listening to 80's hair band and 90's grunge music...and my kids knowing the songs from the first chords.

Things I am not a fan of in 2009:

1. Waiting in line at Wal*Mart to cash my check since I'm now ghetto and don't have a bank account, only to have them tell me they can't cash it for reason #2. Reason #2 is not an explanation and I have to call a stupid phone number to find out why they won't just give me the damn money!

2. Not having any money.

3. Working nights.

4. Not having gone on a vacation...yet.

4. Being an adult. I've turned 30 this year, and while I don't feel old, what with my maturity level of a 15 year old boy, I'm starting to feel all responsible and shit. I don't know how I feel about that.

5. My baby boy growing up and soon venturing into the 7th grade. THE SEVENTH GRADE! How did that even happen? Tonight he's spending the night and the grungy skater, popular kids' house and last weekend he went on an out of town trip with another kid. His first trip without his father or I. ::sigh:: ::tear:: I don't know how I feel about that either.

There are so many things right now, those are just my top 5. And mostly just the ones I actually can think of right now. Marijuana affects the memory.

Good bye to you

2009-02-02T18:45:00.000-08:00

When I turned 20, my friend Jenna and I decided to throw a slumber party. Complete with hard liquor, weed and a stripper. I insisted that it not really be a party for me, per se because I didn’t want to get a lap dance. Strippers make me a little uncomfortable. I would welcome presents, however, because who am I to turn down a gift. She called the stripper hut to order a hot guy to take his clothes off for us. We had a choice between a Mexican with green eyes or a blond hair, blue eyed Aryan. I wanted the Mexican because even though I’m more into white guys my very first major crush was a friend of my cousins who looked like a Chicano Elvis with green eyes. They’re always hot. She vetoed me and chose the Aryan.When he showed up dressed like a dollar store cop, I lost it and could not stop laughing. Not to mention that he had a lazy eye. Not the hottest jalapeno in the bunch. Then came the news that, “Surprise!” it was a party in celebration of my birth. A chair got pulled up to the middle of the room where I was forced to sit, much to my chagrin. The music started. ‘Bad to the bone’ was his song of choice and he started to gyrate and wiggle his hips in front of me while whisper-mouth-singing along with the tape (yes, I said tape). It took all I had to not laugh in this guys face. I was NOT into it. Finally my ‘birthday surprise’ came to an end so I anxiously passed my reign over to the rest of the girls. The whole thing was awkward. I’m convinced it was mostly due to the fact that the guy was somewhat retarded. You know, like a high functioning retard. But I digress. Dial-a-stripper asked if there was somewhere he could change so we pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. When he came out, my jaw dropped and I started laughing so hard. He had traded the cheesy cop costume with a pair of stone washed overalls with a ‘wife beater’ underneath, one of the overall straps hanging loosely down his front and untied black combat boots with the pant legs tucked in them. Just turn around and walk away the little voice in my head told me, so turn around and walk away I did. I made my way to the back patio where most of the other girls were smoking and plopped down with relief. The second I cracked open my beer the back door opened and out sauntered hookerello in his Fresh Prince of Bel Air outfit. He takes the seat between my friend and I, takes a swig of one of our beers and says, “You girls don’t mind if I have a beer do you?”
“Well it looks like you already have so I guess it doesn’t really matter what we say,” I stated.
We continued on with our riveting conversation on who knows what as we passed the bong around. As the bong was coming my way lazy-eye grabs it from my friend and rips it. He then turns to her, leans in and tries to shotgun his hit to her. For the few of you who don’t know what “shotgunning” is, let me explain: it’s when someone takes a hit of weed, or what have you, out of another persons mouth, respectively. She immediately shrinks away from him as he’s trying to pry her lips open with his. He laughs, “Hey, somebody shotgun me!” The girls just look around at each other with a look of contempt as he cashes out another bowl. He turns to me and leans in for the kill. I backed up, threw my hand up in his face and said, “Get the fuck away from me right now!” I’m generally a shy and reserved person behind the loud mouth. I don’t like confrontation, but when pushed too far…That was a whole decade ago. In between then and now my twenties have been colorful to say the least. My 21st birthday was spent during an entire weekend in which I was completely shit housed and high…like super high since I smoked out of a 4 foot bong. Needles to say that weekend is vague, at best. Between the ages of 20 and 21 are vague, at best. It’s when the ex broke up with me for the first time and I discovered that there are other boys in the world that I could have sex with. Something that never occurred to me until my best friends pretty much opened my eyes when they were so surprised that I had only slept with one guy who I ended up marrying. Thus opening up a huge can of worms that I may have finally closed the lid on. Half way through my 21st year however, I’d started to sleep with the ex again since his mom died and what better way to comfort him than with my vagina. I’d learned that the power of the vagina is vast. So after the baby came I was back with the ex from about 2001-2005ish. That was nothing but boring married life. Then came the divorce (read: separation of the dvd’s). After that it was pretty much me in a candy store full of boys and I had a major sweet tooth. Just a blur of debauchery.

Now here I am staring 30 straight in the face.At which point I will end this blahg here since I seem to have a case of the Mondays and am not really in the mood for reminiscing anymore. Though I will say this, the last few years of my 20’s really sucked, but I did end them with a bang and started them off right. I just hope I stay on this track of awesome and 30’s really are the best times of my life as so many people have often told me. I guess all I can really do is impatiently wait and find out.

Ode to Monday

2009-01-19T18:32:00.001-08:00

Ever have one of those days where you just aren’t in a good mood? I’m having one of those days today. Some might call it a “case of the Mondays”. Some might also want to get punched in the face.

One thing about me is I’m generally in a chipper mood, always smiling and nice with just a slight (read: heavy) undertone of sardonicism. But every once in a while, I’m just in a mood when I don’t want to smile, I don’t want to incessantly chatter as I often do. I just want to be…left alone. However, my often sunny attitude does not allow me a bad mood day. There’s only a couple of times a month where I feel the need to be in a bad mood and not hide it behind a big smile, but on those days someone who already annoys me finds a way to make it worse by telling me to smile or asking me what’s wrong. Can’t I just be in a bad mood? Normally I’ll shrug it off and say I’m tired or have a headache just so I can avoid the infuriation, but today was not that day. When my manager told me to smile, I simply replied with a catty “Why?” I just didn’t feel like fucking around. Later she came and asked me what’s wrong.
“Nothing. I’m just in a bad mood.”
”Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”
Now that kind of shit pissed me off more. If I’m mad at you, you’ll know it. So don’t ask me if I’m mad at you. Boo.

This day is almost over though, so that makes it better. A little closer to the birthday extravaganza. I’m off all next weekend, so maybe I’ll be over this infliction of the Mondays next week. Though who really knows how this moody bitch will feel. One can never tell, not even me.

On a side note, my dad received 2 awards this month. One of them being a lifetime achievement award. I am so proud of him. He's a great writer, poet and playwright. You should check him out (Joe Olvera) for some good reading.

My so-called life...thus far

2009-01-18T12:31:00.001-08:00

I'm currently at work rescuing my hair from yet another bad hair day. Doesn't seem like something I would normally worry about, but being in a new relationship does that to you...or so I've heard. I haven't been in one for about three and a half years. I don't really call the last guy I "dated" for 4 months a relationship since he didn't want to be my boyfriend but got all girly pissy at me when I slept with another guy. Pshaw, go figure. But I digress. My hair has not been cooperating with me lately and I'm real tempted to just shave it off. Not Britney Spears G.I. Jane shave it off, just normal like I did 2 years ago shave it. This is why my hair is always short. Lately I also feel like I have to look my best ALL. THE. TIME. I'm not one of those girls who wakes up before the boyfriend and freshens up her make-up and puts on the sexy lingerie, in fact, I often don't wear make-up around him. I have good skin for a reason. But he wears nice suits 90% of the time so I can't go looking all scraggly with my hair and clothes. The problem with my clothes is that I don't have enough nice ones to keep up with him.

blah blah blah

At this moment I'm having a girly-on-my-period kind of mood. Have I ever mentioned that I hate being a girl about 98% of the time? My 15 year old boy mentality doesn't help that.

Speaking of 15 year old boys. I will be turning 30 in exactly 4 days. It's weird. However, I like to think I'm pretty much the same as I was 15 years ago. Gone are the micro minis and band shirts I'd wear with a garter belt holding up my stockings with cherry red 18 hole Doc Martens on my feet. I no longer carry a plastic lunch box as my purse filled with Marlboro Mediums, dark burgundy lipstick and little girl, brightly colored plastic hair clips shaped like bows and butterflies. Not to mention the chain I wore around my neck. I've replaced the minis with pencil skirts, the docs with wedge heels, the lunch box with big purses and the dark lipstick with chapstick. I classed it up a little in my "matured" age.

I don't really feel old, per se, since I have the mentality and maturity of a 15 year old boy, it's the having a pre-teen child that makes me feel old. Even though I'll still be real young when he graduates high school and still young when the princess graduates (read: under 40, barely) I find it daunting. I've often been asked if I'm going to have another kid. To which I usually reply with a vigorous head shake and a look on my face like someone just told me I was going to be locked up in a 10x10 room with no chapstick, water, weed or tv (read: my 4 basic food groups) for a month. The boyfriend even said something about "our baby" the other night, to which I replied, "We have a baby?". "Someday," he said. Someday as in probably not gonna happen? Then yes, someday. As much as I love the guy, I'm still pretty reserved since I've had a few people let me down (read: fuck me over) in the past, so baby talk is probably a little premature, not to mention moot.

Who knows what the future is going to bring though. I try not to look too forward for fear I might stumble (read: disappointment). Es mi vida loca.

More weirdness

2008-12-27T16:31:00.001-08:00

Its Friday night and I’m sitting home with the princess. Her brother, who’s fast approaching puberty, is staying the night at his cousins’ place like he does every weekend. The princess is playing with her new Polly Pockets she got for Christmas, explaining the game she’s playing with them. You know, the whole there’s one girl who’s unfashionable and not cute and then a girl who is cute and fashionable whom everyone calls the “Fashion Queen” game. Typical game for most 7 year old girls. I wasn’t like that. I was the tomboy in a frilly dress and mary janes or jellys climbing trees, playing marbles and fixing the neighborhood kids’ bikes. The princess is a girl through and through who plays with Barbies and my make-up.

So as we’re sitting in the living room I start thinking and ask her how she imagines herself when she gets older. “I don’t know,” she replies. When I was her age I can distinctly remember wanting to be pretty much how I am now, except I really wanted to be a model/actor and I wanted to have a vintage 1966 Dyna Glide Harley Davidson

. All my cousins thought I was weird. I don’t even know where I got all this from. Most of my family members were/are “cholos” and my parents are hippies. I did play the “chola” part when I was about 10-12, wearing men’s work pants with my Nike Cortezs’

, black eyeliner and bangs in a pomp. Yeah, I was cool. I even hung out with gang members around my best friend’s neighborhood and had my very own “chola name”. I can’t, however, remember it for the life of me. It had something to do with smiling or laughing or something. I still listened to the “alternative” radio station that played Jane’s Addiction and the Cure, but still knew all the words to all Salt n Pepa’s, Boyz 2 Men and Bel Biv Devoe’s songs.

The princess, however, likes to listen to Hannah Montana, wants to be a cheerleader and a veterinarian when she grows up. I mean, how else is she supposed to rebel against a mom like me. It’s crazy to watch them grow up before my very eyes into this weird little personality that you have very little control over. You never know what’s going to happen.

On a side note, I have a new boyfriend who’s a tattoo artist and I just have to queer out about it for a second and brag about it. If my 18 year old self could see me now, she’d think I’m the coolest.

A few things

2008-12-05T22:57:00.000-08:00

1. Ok, so I had a few things I was going to talk about and I don't remember at all what that was. The whole point to me writing this 1st "thing" is to try and jog my memory as to what those topics were that prompted me to finally blog again. Ugh, I hate when this happens. It makes me a little more anxious at the thought of getting real old and senile. I guess I don't have much to worry about since that's, hopefully, 50 years away.

2. I've recently started learning how to do a hot shave with a straight razor, just like the barbers do. I've always wanted to learn, even though I constantly cut myself. At least I'm not ever a danger to my clients, just to myself. But I digress. So the barber at the tattoo shop I get my work done at is making comments blatantly hitting on my in a passive aggressive way as he's showing me how to do the shave. I just giggle and make sarcastic comments, as I often do, as a defense mechanism since I don't know how to take compliments. About 15 minutes after I leave the shop I get a text message about how he thinks I'm "a really hot piece of ass". I laugh to myself, because a. he's not my type (and I do not go out of my box anymore since the temporary lobotomy) and b. he's married. Which, besides the fact that mostly only married or girlfriended boys like me, this proves my theory that boys can sense when a girl's had sex recently. I've recently gone through a massive dry spell in which I couldn't pay a dude to hit on me. The second after I get laid, I've got a couple of boys wanting to "get to know me". Hey, I'm not complaining, just merely stating that I think there is some truth to the whole we-emit-pheromones-to-alert-the-opposite-sex-to-mating-possibilities theory. Though it could just be that the boys are just thinking, "She has a glow to her, like she just had sex. Hmm, I bet she's slutty. I'm going to try to bang her too." I believe the latter.

3. The genius just told me he was real excited about St. Nicholas Day, which he told me, is some legend where you leave a note by your shoes 20 days before Christmas with 5 things you would like and then you get them the next day. I don't know about that, but as he was putting the note by his shoes (he ain't getting any presents before x-mas), he proclaimed how excited he was...then he said he had to pee. "I always have to pee when I get excited!", he says as he runs to the bathroom. Now he's talking about legos and I have no idea what he's talking about. Kid-speak is like a completely different language I am NOT fluent in.

4. I need to go visit my dad. Oh, if only I didn't work all the time and have no money for a plane ticket. This is your cue to send me money people. Nah, just kidding...but seriously...

So nothing I had in mind to talk about came to mind when writing this and that is going to drive me crazy. Alzheimer's strikes again.

Trend alert

2008-11-17T23:15:00.000-08:00

I've been noticing a new trend lately. It's something that I've noticed most recently pop up everywhere I look. Ready for it? I know you're excited. Fancy yard sale signs.

I don't know who started it, but why do people have to get so intense about peddling their wares. Laser printed on cardstock paper with bright, bold backgrounds to let the letters pop. Back in the day my mom would tell me to rip apart a box and write a couple of signs up for her in to hang around the neighborhood. I would get out my favorite black magic marker just write 'yard sale' in my 5th grade scrawl. Simple as Corky from Life Goes On.

How does that even become a trend?

I guess you've gotta spend money to make money.

The life and times

2008-11-12T23:43:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I never wanted to be a worker in the baby making business. All my plans got...postponed, for lack of a better word. It still blows my mind that I have been put in charge of two mini people to mold and shape to grow up to be a somewhat decent human being. I know, it's been a little over 11 years and I should be over it by now, as my sister likes to state. But I feel the whole situation, as I've said before, is way beyond my maturity level. So it still weirds me out.

I like to live a sort of double life. I have my pta mom life and my single almost 30 life. The latter in which I like to party, have casual sex with hot guys and sometimes get high. The pta mom life keeps me busy helping plan the school's Family Fun Festival night, making eggs & toast for breakfast and making sure they bathe regularly and brush their teeth. Most of my friends actually forget I even have kids and any boys, with the unfortunate exception of a couple, have not or never will meet them. So it always catches me by complete surprise when I catch myself checking on them multiple times in the night to make sure they're still breathing, staring lovingly down at them as they sleep peacefully, pushing hair behind their little ears and pulling the covers up to their chins. I think, "how amazing to have created that life." Then the sun rises and I'm stirred out of sleep by Shawn telling Naia that she's a big, fat gorilla head as she chucks the nearest object at him while calling him a *beep*, which is their way of cussing at each other. At which point I pull the covers over my head and wish I was on the beach in San Diego drinking a margarita with my friends and some hot dudes. Reality's a bitch.

Oh yeah, and...

2008-10-27T15:23:00.000-07:00

The whole reason for me ranting about the little teenage drama queen was to mention that first off, how one client can just fuck my whole day, another client can make it all better. My client after was an Irish redhead with the accent of a southern black woman. She was hilarious. More importantly, someone else made me feel better. From time to time, I'll get comments on my blogger blog and they're always real nice. Saturday after work I got one from Kate telling me how once she read my blog she marked it as a favorite and that's just the bee's knees. I've gotten other similar comments, most of which are anonymous so I have no way of letting them know how I appreciate their words of kindness and the boost to my ego. Thanks to you all, you make my day after dealing with retards at work and I heart you guys. *The cheesy part is over.*

A few things

2008-10-27T00:42:00.001-07:00

Just a little word about what's been going on in my salon, in my head and just all around me. Not necessarily in that order.

1. So Saturday, I'm having a good day. Non-stop clients, big tips, I was on my comedy game, when it happened. She walked in. Every stylist knows what I'm talking about. That girl. She was about 14 going to her first homecoming dance. And a cheerleader. I normally love styling hair, shit I practically do it every other weekend for Kendra. So anyway, she tells me what she wants done. Curled hair, half up with a pouf but not too formal. I can already tell she's going to be a pain because as I'm curling her hair, she keeps trying to look at herself in the mirror. You shouldn't move your head too much when someone has a 400 degree ceramic rod inches from your face. I'm getting more and more annoyed as her face gets more and more worried. I pride myself on my styling abilities, but there's always that one person that just fucks your world. Her two little friends that were with her were done, I'm trying to finish through her head turning and fidgeting when I just get to the point where I just don't give a shit anymore. Finally I'm done. I take one look at her in the mirror and her little brace face is scrunched up like she's about to cry. "You don't like it?" I say to her and all she can do is shake her head no. One of the moms hears me and comes over to tell her she's crazy since her hair looks great (duh), while she's still trying not to cry. I ask her what it is that she doesn't like about her hair and she doesn't answer me. At the point I'm just irritated. I'm pretty sure I'm pms'ing, my blood sugar was low and I was too tired to deal with a spoiled little brat who was being coddled by her friends. I contemplate charging her less since she wasn't satisfied, but decided against it since I knew she wouldn't tip me and for my pain and suffering. She leaves, I sit my ass down to eat something, anything, when I get another haircut. I just don't really want to do it. I ask to pass on it, but the stylist who it went to complained about it, so I said fuck it and agreed to take it. As I was cleaning my station getting ready, I could feel the tears coming on. I'm just pissed. I go to the bathroom to pull myself together. I hate crying, though I do it often, especially in front of people. Like I said, it just takes one person to fuck my whole world.

2. I happened to catch a show about women who collect life like baby dolls. This struck me as quite odd when I remembered a woman I'd met when I was about 18 and worked at a little thrift store in Mesa. She would come in carrying a doll, which upon first inspection looked like a real baby. She would buy an outfit or two for her (her name was Emily, by the way. the baby, not the woman), toys and actually drove with the "baby" in a baby carseat. Crazy or sad? It's hard to tell.

3. I totally forgot what my third point was. It's what happens when I'm writing and watching tv at the same time. Like my sister says, it was probably una mentira.

I should probably go to sleep now, I'm seriously sleep deprived and not so beautiful lately as a result. Man, closing in on your 30's and not enough sleep is real bad for the skin. And the mentality.

All about me

2008-10-23T22:45:00.001-07:00

Being a procrastinator has stunted my search for fame. Why would I want to be famous, you ask? Not necessarily for the sake of recognition, although I get a secret high from being recognized on the street (doesn't happen often), but for the money. I'm not going to lie. I would so be that homeless guy on the street with the sign that says, "I'm not gunna lie, I'm going to buy marijuana with your money." So I won't lie now, i just want to be famous so I can actually pay my rent. That'd be pretty sweet.

Not that I do anything to try to be famous (let's see how many times I use the word 'famous'), I just hope that I'll just magically become famous. Like Tila Tequila, but you know, not skeazy or ugly. In my opinion she looks like a retarded asian midget. She literally just got big fake boobs and started making out with chicks in bikinis...then overnight she's famous and gets her own mtv show because a million retards friended her on the space. Wait, did I say retards? I meant wonderful, smart, sexy people (hey, if they like her, maybe they'll like me).

But since I don't wear bikinis, say I'm bi or have fake boobs, I'm going to have to try and make my own way. By make my own way, I mean try my hand at a reality show. I'm not on it yet, but I hope to be. It's a new show for hairstylists. I figure that even if I don't get far in the competion, I'm sure to win the hearts of home audience viewers with my charming personality, dry sardonicism and all around awesomeness. I mean, that's how I make money now.

Since I'm trying to get on the show, the first step is to send in a bio of myself. I seem to be having trouble writing the bio. They want "over-over the top personalities", and while I wouldn't say I'm totally over the top, I am loud, slightly unfiltered and sarcastic to a fault. How do I put that in writing so that the producers, or what have you, don't have a sudden case of the sleepies while reading my bio. Or worse yet, how do I keep them from not tossing it in the trash after reading the first sentence and deciding I'm boring?

This is just too much pressure. Among other things, I'm a big, fat pussy. I know I don't look it, but I am pretty bashful and not very forward. Though I am a real good bull-shitter. Which is how I hope to get through any of this, if I make it. We'll see, I guess if this is my meal ticket, it'll happen. My fingers are crossed.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2008-10-23T15:22:00.001-07:00

Hair extension information.
Here is a quick look at the different methods of applying hair extensions:
Hair extensions can be attached to your head in many different ways, including gluing, tubing, sewing, and clipping on. Different methods have different advantages. The method you choose will depend on many factors: your hair, your lifestyle, your budget, and your needs, for starters. If you are looking for a long-lasting, natural-looking hair extensions, though, consider one of the fusion methods.

I myself prefer the cold fusion method as it's the least damaging to your hair and look more natural.

Fusion is generally the preferred method as fused hair extensions can last up to three to four months with proper care. With fusion hair extensions, the extensions will be indistinguishable from your natural hair.

Fusion hair extensions can be applied in different ways: hot or cold fusion.

Hot fusion– (lasts 3-4 months) Hot fusion or bonding uses hot glue to attach extensions to your hair. This is the more traditional method. While it does have many happy followers, others say that the glue causes the extensions to feel stiff and unnatural. This method won't harm natural hair but doesn't have a lot of adhesive for holding power needed for extended wear. You generally loose about 3-4 strands throughout the period they are in. $125-150 full head.

Cold fusion- (last 3-4 months) this method uses no heat, it is good for all hair types. Uses a metal tube with a silicon lining and they are clamped over the real hair to attach extension hair. $125-150 full head.

Weaves – (lasts 2 weeks) Tiny braids hold hair extensions against the scalp, like cornrows, except these braids are hidden. $75 full head.

Bonding – (lasts shampoo to shampoo) The extensions used for this method have a latex plug meant to be glued to your own hair for short terms use. Because this method is fast it's also inexpensive. However, to remove extensions, oil and heat must be used to dissolve the bonding agent, which messy and time consuming. If not removed with care the latex can pull your own hair out. $30 full head.

Braids, Cornrows, Twists, Locks - Integrates extensions in a visible way in that the braided attachment is seen but blends into the hairstyle. $ upon consultation

PRICES DO NOT INCLUDE HAIR. YOU WOULD NEED TO GOTO SUNNYS OR ANOTHER HAIR STORE FOR HAIR.

e-mail me for information regarding an appointment or any other information: greteljane37@hotmail.com

Wake up call

2008-10-16T14:36:00.000-07:00

One of the best ways to wake up, in my opinion, is morning sex. One of the worst? Hearing your 11 year old boy scream like a little girl because there's a cockroach in the bathroom.

The only reason why I miss having a husband? Because he killed the roaches. I know, it sounds really girly for me to say this, but its true. I'm not a fan of the roaches, as is most of the populous, but i hate killing them even more. i think its the whole crunching thing. And the grossness factor.

So after being jarred awake by the girly scream and looking up to see the genius naked cupping his teeny peeny, I try to get him to kill the roach. "No I can't, I'm naked!", he yells to me. So with my blurred vision due to slept in contacts, i get up, slip on the geniuses 3 sizes bigger than mine shoes (did I mention he's 11?), and run over to squish it. Now its my turn to scream like a little girl. The roach won't die. And it was probably the size of my hand. No exaggeration, I have small hands. So I twisted and squished as hard as I could until I was sure it was dead. Now the harder part, for me anyway, to pick it up and toss it. I prevailed and got it in the trash then made the genius take the trash out for fear it would put itself back together and come crawling out for revenge. Eeesh, I did more this morning before 7 a.m. then most people do in a day. At least it felt that way. Call me a drama queen, I don't care, when it comes to roaches, I don't fuck around. Ick.

So as much as I love living alone, I don't like being alone when I almost impale myself trying to take a shower. Alright, I guess impale is a little strong a word, but I was close to impalement of some body part. Let me explain. Sunday, after a long arduous day at work trying to recover from a gnarly hangover and seeing a movie I didn't want to see with a boy I didn't want to see it with, I got home and wanted nothing more than to shower and go to bed. So I shower. But I got as far as stepping up to stand under the stream of water when my left foot slipped out from under me. I went flying into the shower door. Lucky for me, the door didn't break, merely fell off the track, and I didn't knock myself unconscious on the sink. I did, however, slam my right shoulder into the door rather hard. Well, really hard. It was an imperfect end to an imperfect day.

My shoulder's okay now. Though I could do with a really good massage, I'm not a total cripple anymore. I guess I bragged too much about how I hadn't hurt myself in a couple of weeks, because before the shower debacle, I fell in front of a client on Friday afternoon when I decided to actually wear heels. Guess I should have knocked on wood.

The weirdness

2008-09-30T13:40:00.001-07:00

In about an hour, I am attending my first meeting as "parent liaison" for the princess' class. I've never done anything like this before without my crutch, aka the sister. She's usually the one that got me into volunteering and what not, but this time it was the smiley face of the princess that convinced me. I'm under the impression she wants me to be like a "normal mom". What she doesn't get is that I'm not a "normal" mom, under "normal" circumstances. What she also doesn't get is that 99% of the mean mommies at her school don't like me. I'm younger than most of them, have visible tattoos and piercings, and don't wear elastic waisted pants with practical shoes. Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating on the less than stylish wardrobes of most of the moms...I'm just sayin'. ::sigh:: Here I go on yet another boring adventure.

Out and about in Horrorland

2008-09-29T15:31:00.001-07:00

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything. I attribute it to my writer’s block…aka complete and total laziness. A lot of shit has been going on in my life lately, not much of it good, but not all of it bad.

I’m no longer at The Chop Shop barber and salon, it closed down due to a lack of business, which makes me sad. I am, however, gainfully employed now at Arizona Hair Company in Tempe and I love it. It’s actually busy, so I go home exhausted but excited about the days money made. Although some days there’s more money made than others. It sure does beat working two jobs though. Here’s where I do my shameless plug…If you need your hair done and want it done good, come see me at Arizona Hair Co., 1747 E. Broadway Rd., Tempe, AZ. 85281, 480.968.1954…I do color, cuts, waxing and styling…end plug.

In addition to my new job, I’ve just been hanging out with my new nephew, who’s the cutest little thing ever, and dealing with the conflicting emotions of hearing of my dad’s newest malady. After years of having had one leg amputated due to diabetes infused gangrene, his other leg has now had to come off. I found out about it through an e-mail my little sister sent me about two weeks ago where my head was thrown into a frenzy. I didn’t know what to think and I could hardly dial the phone without shaking, so I had a break down and made the ex drive me to my sisters’ place so we could call him together and I knew I’d have to be a little more composed being that the kids were there. Seeing my sister helped me a little and we spoke to our dad, but it was still sad. I canceled my trip to San Diego and hung out with some new friends. Now I’m making a photo album for him, I am not often considered the best daughter as I’m bad at keeping in touch as well as planning a road trip to my hometown El Paso for Thanksgiving. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been down that way, so it will be nice to see my family.

Other than that things have been somewhat typical. I’m trying to lose weight (nothing really new), trying to deal with my looming 30’s and just basically trying to stay afloat. Notice the key word here, “trying”. In all honesty though, I can’t wait until this year is over. It has seemed like one flaming bag of dog shit since February and I’m sick of the stench.

I’m pretty sure that’s about it for now. A co-worker/new friend is on my ass to be a better blogger since we have a joint “hair blog” now, so we’ll see how she does to quash my laziness, I mean, writers block.

So, until the next tragedy, may my cynicism entertain you,

Malice
reporting live from Horrorland

Out of the mouths of babes

2008-08-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

"Can I just get a nut off?"

As said by the princess to her dad when he wouldn't share his drumstick with her.

I. Couldn't. Stop. Laughing.

My entire life is filled with things way above my maturity level.

Updates not so vital

2008-08-10T18:29:00.000-07:00

Living alone is fun. This is the first time, as I'm sure I've mentioned a million times already, that I've lived alone. And it rocks.

Today I got a new job at Az. Hair Company, so there should be more money for this honey.

I'm about to start reading my dad's book, so that's exciting.

The kiddos start school tomorrow. I can't believe I have a 6th grader. I'll never get over it.

My sister gave birth to my new nephew. I think he's the cutest so far.

My little sister is pregnant...again. Oh that little girl. And I mean that literally. She's just a child herself. It's like baby central in my family. My mom thinks I should have another one with the ex. You know, because we make such pretty babies. Apparently just one new baby in the family isn't enough.

I played rockband recently with my nephews and I rocked it to 'Wanted dead or alive". I'm the new Bon Jovi.

Um, I think that's enough for now. Nothing too exciting going on in my life right now. No new romances to speak of. However, there is the longest dry spell in the history of dry spells. At least it is in Mal time. I'm just getting more selective it seems in my old age. So, that's about it.

Adventures in Awesomeland

2008-07-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

I'm not officially settled into my new apartment. There are still boxes everywhere since it is near to impossible to get anything done with the kids attached to my hip 24/7. I can't wait until school starts again. But I digress. My independance is going well and I've had my first houseguest this week. A friend from Boston has been visiting this week. It's fun. I like playing Suzy Homemaker.

The only drawback to this whole living on my own thing is the fact that I can't go out whenever I like as I did before when I had a live-in babysitter. Otherwise known as Nana. It definitely doesn't make it easier that I am since pelted with requests to go out by numerous friends, and when dejected, requests of "Just make Aaron watch them!" But, I'm a mean mommy and a firm believer in a strict schedule (believe it or not) so I don't much like switching out days with the ex so I can go drink. Change is so hard on the munchkins as it is.

Speaking of munchkins, my oldest is no longer one. A munchkin, that is. Well, I guess he bi-passed munchkiness (i just want to see how many times i can't write "munchkin" in one blog) when he shot up to almost my height. Now though, it's official. He just turned 11. I know I always talk about how it weirds me out that I have kids, but the older they get, the more weirded out I get. 11! This coming school year he will be in the 6th grade, which means I have to start looking at junior high schools because I want to keep them in a montessori type of education. Irregardless though of which school he goes to, I will have a junior higher when I'm 30. Still weird.

It was also my brother-in-law's, my sisters and the ex's birthdays, all in a row. July gets very expensive. And now, a fifth will be added to that list of special days. My sister will be induced and her baby will be born on Tuesday the 8th. Damn Cancers. I'm surrounded by them. Even my dad's a Cancer. But I guess I love those crabby little bastards all the same.

I think that's it as far as anything new going on. I haven't been able to expose myself on the net lately as I cannot find a wifi connection in my apartment, but i'm used to it now, surprisingly enough. Now I continue my adventures in Awesomeland.

Hot melty brains

2008-06-20T23:06:00.001-07:00

Today officially marks the first day of summer. In Arizona, its not always a good thing.

As my insides melt and turn to mush while my glass plugs burn my earlobes the second I step outside, I can't help but hate this state. And everyone in it.

As good as life is finally going for me, I get the displeasure of dealing with people from all walks of life in my second, less lucrative retail job. From the hair neophytes to leather skinned, melon chested women studying the zen of the middle age crisis. The heat makes me cranky.

Hearing comments like, "You're so pretty, why would you do that to yourself", in regards to my multiple accoutrements...to which I usually reply, "I think I'm still pretty". Or my favorite, "I'll pray for you." Why is it that only the ignorami seem to be the ones to talk to me?

Another undesirable side effect of the heat: I don't make much sense. Good luck trying to decipher this weeks ramblings.

When the other shoe drops

2008-06-06T23:23:00.001-07:00

I have recently come under a string of bad luck. I'm not talking the I-lost-my-keys-and-couldn't-find-my-car kind of bad luck. I'm talking the my-car-got-towed-twice-in-a-two and a half-week-period-and-it-took-all-my-money-both-times kind of bad luck. You may now call me Bad Luck Betty. No, no, not Blow Job Betty, since I seem to have developed the plague and can't get laid by even my most dependable fuck buddy's, but Bad Luck Betty. As in this-year-so-far-sux-and-I-have-the-worst Bad Luck Betty.

Let's start with a week and a half ago. I'm not even going to start with the beginning of the year since it would take me 3 hours to finish writing this blahg. But I digress. The first time my car got towed was a week and a half ago. Or maybe it was two and a half weeks ago. Its getting hard for me to tell, bad luck does that to you. Let's just say a title loan (the car is not in my name) was taken out on my car to pay some bills and what not and the payment was late, so Buckeye Title loans saw it fit to take my car away, without warning. The genius was home sick after having vomited all over everything the night before, so I planned to go to the store for some chicken soup and a sprite. My car was gone. I stood in my now empty parking spot in disbelief for about 3 minutes as I spun as if each time I completed my tiny circle my car would magically appear. $1,000 and four days later, I got my car back.

Fast forward to this last Tuesday. As I lay in bed trying to get up the motivation to start getting ready for work mi madre asked if she could borrow my car for a few minutes. She left about 8:30 a.m. At 9:00 a.m. her Halloween Michael Myers theme song ring tone went off and I answered the phone. "I got pulled over", she responded to my hello in Spanish. I half laughed and wished her luck since my tags were expired. 9:15 a.m. the eerie music went off again, but before I could say "Hello" she quickly informed me that my car was being towed. All I could do was laugh. What are the chances? Apparently her license was suspended, only to later find out it was all because after she paid the ticket from almost a year ago she had not taken the driving class because the letter informing her of the class was sent to some address in Chandler. We have never lived in Chandler. Ever. $363, two and a half hours in a hot car, 3 days and $2.50 borrowed from a complete stranger since they raised the price from $60 at eight in the morning to $73 that same afternoon later, I have my car back. But not before someone left my headlights on the entire time it was impounded so my battery was dead and before my phone died I had to call my assistant manager who had just left me to go home after we closed the store to come and jump my battery after she had lent me $10 for gas since I'd used the last of my gas money for the nazi raise in price to get my car back. Her and her husband are currently my heroes.

The day after my car was taken for the second time (who does that happen to? ever?) I went to Jupes to enjoy a few cold ones with Clint and the other regulars. I got home a few hours and about 4 pitchers later I stumbled into my room and noticed the a/c was turned off so I made my way to the window to let the beautiful weathers' fresh air in. My window was stuck. I tugged and tugged to no avail. Finally I won my battle with the glass and it opened, but fate likes to play a little game called 'Up yours Mal' and in my drunkenness my hand involuntarily slammed the window towards the shut position and right onto my right hand middle finger. Ouchie! I screamed out silently as the tears sprung forth, making my way to my bed. Let me just say it was a good thing I was drunk because I immediately passed out and forgot all about my finger until I woke up the next morning and felt a throbbing. Better yet, I didn't even look at my finger until later that afternoon, only to notice a swollen, distorted and crooked digit. As well as a tiny blood blister on the other side. Figures.

Now I sit here trying to type while not using my middle finger. Turns out, I use that finger quite a bit.

That's my story. Mind you, this is just the clusterfuck that has been the last two and a half weeks. The earlier part of the year was not that great either, with the exception of witnessing some of my friends' happier moments and the release of my dad's book, of course. The sad thing is that the year isn't even close to being over. The good thing is, after the first repossession of my car, all I can do is laugh when something bad happens. I have a feeling I'll be laughing a lot.

So as I sit here waiting for my percocet to kick in to take away the pain in my finger and my overly stressed out back, I can't help but wonder...When both shoes have proverbially dropped, what will go next?

A funny thing happened on the way to my life

2008-06-04T01:51:00.001-07:00

It seems life has been throwing me some curve balls lately. And try as I might, I'm striking out left and right.

The saying goes, when life throws you lemons, make lemonade. What if the lemons are spoiled? Between all the balls and lemons, I'm not really sure what to do anymore, but sit back and watch from my lemonade stand while I get pelted by balls. And I'm not talking about the fun ones.

As this new year has been pretty shitty, I find myself obsessively thinking about, well, everything. In particular, my kids. It all started with a gravity bong and the movie Knocked Up. Between freakouts of the beauty and ickiness that is the miracle of birth, I kept thinking about how I did that. I created life. Now I am bound to that life. At least until the 18th birthday, which has been deemed to be an "adult" age.

The more I see them grow and mature, the more it weirds me out that one day they'll be my age and doing the things (hopefully not) that I do. You'd think I'd be used to the fact that I have kids by now, being that its been ten and a half years, but I'm not. I fear I will never feel "normal" about the whole situation. Especially the more pivotal events become as they get older. The genius is already talking about getting married and having children. It was in jest due to my consternation at becoming a grandmother before I'm 35. He's such a smart ass...I wonder where he gets it from.

Then this weekend I attended and was a part of my good friend Jessica's wedding. I teared up when they said their vows. I cried a little when the speeches were given. I sobbed when they had their first dance as husband and wife. But the thing, the main thing that got me was the mother/son dance. I couldn't contain myself. I just kept thinking that that was going to be me one day. Dancing with my son at his wedding, assuming he chooses that path. At that point, the weirdness hit me again. To think, we do this everyday. Give birth. Nurture that baby to childhood, their teens and then adulthood. The gravity of life is surreal as it is to me, add that to developing a self-sufficient, independent person and you've got a weirded out Mal.

Now as I sit here at almost 2 in the morning not sleeping and probably not making any sense, I guess what I'm trying to say is the gratification of helping to develop an individual does not outweigh the oddity that is real life. Maybe I could have said that in fewer, less confusing words, but then I wouldn't be able to regale you with my many eccentricities.

When does the surreal end and the conscious awareness begin?

When it rains, it pours

2008-05-28T13:53:00.001-07:00

A lots been going on in my life lately, and not all of it good. I'd have to say I've been in a rut. Not to mention in the middle of a lot of chaos. But I'm glad to say that, for the most part, the downward spiral is done.

Sometimes you have to wonder at the fast balls life tends to throw at you. And there's always a decision you have to make to deal with whatever hardship. My decisions usually consist of me locking myself in my room for days at a time watching the Sex and the City series and feeling sorry for myself. Now I'm all better though. I've gotten most of my ducks in a row, so to speak, and have decided it is time to stand up straight again and get myself out of the rut that has me wanting to live someone else's life.

I am now on the search for a place to call my own. So that's giving me a little ray of hope. Currently I'm cleaning my room and looking through my 100 or so pairs of shoes for some fancy ones I can wear for my good friends' wedding I'm in this weekend since my troubles of the last week left me out $1,000. Also to get ready for the wedding I've perfected the french manicure on myself, something I've always thought too girly for me...oh and extensions in my too short hair. Yeah, the wedding is bringing out the girl in me. I've become a jane of all trades beauty edition. Next up is diy hair clips, garter and at-home waxing. I took a little break to eat some mac n' cheese, but I better get back to my tasks at hand before I lose my wind and decide to lay around some more. Something I'm very good at.

Judgey wudgey was a bear

2008-05-13T19:21:00.001-07:00

What really cracks me up (and by cracks me up i mean annoys me) is when people have a certain perception of me. Usually that perception is that I'm this real tough, mean, crazy freak in bed. The truth is, I am far from crazy, I'm probably nicer than you and while I'm great in the sack, I am no where near "freaky". I guess I just look the part.

Which is funny since last time I checked my tattoos and assorted accoutrements were not acquired with the hopes of impressing someone or rebelling against something or proving anything. Besides "did that hurt", "is it/are they real" and "do you know you'll have those when you're old", one of the most asked questions is, "How long have you had those/that?" Why? Why do you, a complete stranger want to know how long I've had my assorted piercings. I just don't get it. Although my favorite one is the "do you know you'll have those when you're old" because I mean, really, I didn't know that and you telling me has completely opened my eyes. Thank you so much for enlightening me.

But I digress, I am not writing to rant. My point is that it amazes me how someone won't even know me in person, just through the world of myspace, and they know me...they know I'm "crazy"...or that I'm a beautiful person on the inside. Maybe its the pms in me talking, but after a while, that kind of shit does really get to me. You know, especially around this time of the month when I'm feeling sorry for myself. It happens.

So being judged by my outward appearance is sometimes not fun. Like poop.

Nutshell is full

2008-05-05T12:32:00.000-07:00

Just a few things that have been filling up the nutshell that is my life. Here are a few tidbits:

1. Last night I was in the Miss Hair-azona 2008 competition. I didn't win. It was pretty much a beauty pageant without the cheesy opening number, bikini portion or talent competition. I didn't want to do it...not that I don't think I'm hot enough, but I'm not disillusioned as to what the majority of the male population likes, which is girls that look like the girls that were my competition. But I did it, and I got a lot of free drinks, maybe a little too much, and had fun nonetheless.

2. I'm still working 2 jobs, and still manage to never have money. Go figure. Speaking of work, on Saturday at job 2, which is Sally's, I have to dress like Paris Hilton. Man, the things I do for money. Let me elaborate. We started selling her synthetic, crappy hair "extensions" and Saturday is Paris Hilton day. I have to wear a pink shirt. I don't own a pink shirt. I kind of want to quit on integrity alone. Oh what a glamorous life I lead.

3. My dad has another book coming out this month. I'm super stoked about it. He may even be coming to AZ for a book signing. He is, after all, a literary icon.

4. My love life, or lack there of, has been, well, lacking to say the least. Not much fun for me.

5. I'm going to Vegas at the end of June for a hair show, and while I'm there, I'll be hitting up the Sin City tattoo convention. I couldn't be more excited to get out of dodge. I need a vacation real bad.

6. I may have sleep apnea, insomnia and narcolepsy. I'm not really surprised by the insomnia because I can't sleep ever, but the narcolepsy is surprising. I guess I should make a trip to the evil doctor and see what's up with all that nonsense.

7. I'm going to be a bridesmaid in my friend Jessica's wedding. This should be interesting. I've never been in a wedding before. Hey, did you hear? Bridesmaids always put out.

That's about it. Nothing really interesting going on. I just work and take care of the kiddos, and occasionally drink way too much alcohol. That's a day in the life of me, I guess.

10 things I hate about you

2008-04-26T11:40:00.001-07:00

Regarding driving:

1. It's okay to drive the speed limit.

2. When the light turns green, you're supposed to apply pressure to the gas peddle with your right foot. You are not going to receive an invitation nor is it going to get any greener.

3. If you're going to cut someone off, maybe gas it so that I don't have to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting you because you're going a staggering 10 mph.

4. The whole state of AZ is not a school zone...so there's no need to drive 15 mph everywhere. If you're old you probably shouldn't be driving.

5. Peeling out and making your tires squeal does not, I repeat, does not make you cool.

6. Honking your horn does not make cars go any faster.

7. Pedestrians should use a crosswalk...if I hit you with my car when you're not in a crosswalk, it's not my fault. Be afraid, be very afraid.

8. Super bright lights in your monster bro truck are just annoyingly blinding. Are you trying to compensate for something?

9. If you're getting on the freeway, try speeding it up a little. 20 mph is just going to get you smashed.

10. If you want to ride my ass so bad buy me dinner first, then get me real drunk.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating Wednesday

2008-04-23T01:51:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I've parlayed any adventures on here. There have been some, not necessarily in Whoreland, more like it's-been-so-long-since-I've-had-good-sexland. But I'm surviving as best as a girl with a 22 year old frat boy's libido can, you know. The boys I have met on the outskirts of Whoreland are the typical promisers of the world type. Where they're smitten with me for a mere second as they spout promises of things I know will never come to be, but I listen, smile, nod and laugh on the inside because I'm not typical. To be honest though, there is that rare moment where I actually believe the randomness...but I'm old and have learned a thing or two so I'm confident in my ability to bounce back from stupidity pretty quickly.

Speaking of bouncing back, I have resumed my purveyance of the ever entertaining Craigslist ads for the sake of my own entertainment and mockery. So since I can't sleep even though I am so freakin' tired, I peruse...it's what I do. This first one pretty much is self explanatory as to why I picked it and I laughed after reading it for about 5 whole minutes.

Dark Haired, Busty, & Tattooed?

Reply to: pers-652******@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-04-22, 10:59PM MST

If that describes you, and you appreciate an attractive easy going man who loves giving head to busty tattooed women, then this posting is definitely for you.

To me, that's some funny shit. I am, in fact, dark haired, busty and tattooed, but chances are this guy means plain brown hair, big fake boobs on a size 2 frame and a tribal butterfly tramp stamp. Classic.

Then this one caught my eye.

Help a guy out::just got a tatoo and cant use my right arm: - m4w - 27 (East valley)

Reply to: pers-6528*******@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-04-22, 11:37PM MST

Just got a tatoo on my right arm and could use some help tonight. Pic for pic

I have to wonder if this guy has ever used this line in real life. I don't really have much to say about this one, I just got a good laugh out of it and thought you might be amused by it as well...though it's hard to tell who will be amused by the things that amuse me, you know, being that I'm easily distracted by shiny, pretty things.

10 things I hate about you

2008-04-18T22:28:00.001-07:00

Regarding my stretched ears.

1. No, they don't currently hurt. Why in the hell would I get something done that would permanently hurt? They initially hurt, but just like a regular ear piercing, it stings then the pain goes away once they're healed.

2. Yes, I know they're big, contrary to popular belief I do look in the mirror from time to time so I do, in fact, see how big they are. Oh yeah, and I CHOSE the size I wanted my lobes. I don't need you to tell me.

3. I do know that my ears are going to be big for the rest of my life. I'm not one of those kids these days that are stretching their ears and getting tattoos because it's trendy. I know the repercussions of my actions, I'm almost 30 for crying out loud.

4. Don't attempt to stick your finger in them. I barely let my good friends do it, why would I want some imbecilic stranger with fecal matter covered hands do it. I wouldn't, so don't try.

Regarding my pierced dimples.

5. No, it is not a bar that goes completely across my mouth from cheek to cheek. I am not one of those dumb a-holes that thinks having 50 balls in my face is cool. They're simple barbells in each cheek, just like any other regular piercing, except its in my cheek. Not to mention the fact that a bar going from cheek to cheek would totally prohibit me from talking properly, eating or sucking dick. Don't be a retard.

6. Don't try to touch them. That is unsanitary and icky. Not to mention an invasion of my personal space.

Regarding my face tattoo.

7. This is where the no touching rule is in effect once again. Yes it is real. No I don't draw them on my face every day. Also the fact that I have real good skin and your dirty, oil covered hands touching my face gives me zits.

Regarding any of my tattoos.

8. Yes, they hurt. Parts of my body are pierced and scraped repeatedly with needles. Especially the ones on my face, chest, feet, knuckles and fingers.

Regarding my general appearance.

9. Last time I checked, I wasn't employed by a circus. So oohing and ahhing at me while trying to touch my various appendages are not appropriate. Unless I like you and give you permission. Otherwise, maybe learn some personal boundaries. And as far as I know, I don't have nearly as many tattoos and/or piercings as other people, so maybe go bug them because they're probably way cooler than me and like the attention.

Regarding my general appearance unrelated to my tattoos and/or piercings.

10. Just because there is someone standing next to me who is brown skinned, has dark hair and wearing similar clothing does not mean we're sisters. All brown people look alike, apparently, and we're at work where we have to wear a uniform. And while I'm on the subject, my best friend and I both have dark hair and wear glasses, so that does not mean that we are sisters or twins. She's pasty white and I'm clearly mexican.

Sometimes I just wonder what really goes through people's minds before they speak. I honestly believe that 98% of the population has a hamster running a wheel in place of an actual brain. I know that I am not the smartest, coolest or prettiest girl around, but I'm not a complete retard, *ahem*, mentally challenged. All of what I'm bitching about has actually happened to me in the last two days. I guess that's what I get for working in Snottsdale. Well, I guess I can't really blame it on that, I've had people get out of their cars in parking lots to gawk at me in Tempe and Mesa. Sometimes I kind of miss the good old days where we were judged on our looks and though to be mean miscreants and people would leave us alone. Then I wouldn't be bombarded on a daily basis with an onslaught of inane comments and questions.

Man, is that pms hitting me hard this month.

Marathon of madness

2008-04-17T08:48:00.001-07:00

I seem to have lost the ability to sleep at night. But give me sunshine, and I'm all about the zzzz's. At least I was yesterday. I guess I haven't really been home during the day much, what with my crazyness and all, but I took the morning off from the salon and I didn't have to be to Sally's until late in the afternoon.

While I was watching my Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon, I passed out. Upon waking, I discovered the entire left side of my face was covered in something wet and sticky. Now, had I a boyfriend, or something resembling that I would be able to tell you some sort of wacky story about our shenanigans resulting in the aforementioned state of my waking. But alas, that is not the case. It was merely drool. About a gallon of drool. Besides the ick factor, I don't remember the last time I drooled that much, at least sober. When I do drool, it's a sign that there is a definite lack of sleep. What's a girl to do. Nothing but keep on chugging along...at least until next week when my hours are cut short from Sally's. Hallelujah.

Speaking of work, I should probably stop screwing around on my computer and get ready being that I have an early morning client. The genius is home sick and I was real close to calling my client and rescheduling, but the money part won out. So it's off to work I go. At least I actually have the evening off.

Drinking, and working, and kids, oh my!

2008-04-14T00:15:00.001-07:00

1. So I've been working a lot lately. And surprisingly, I still never have any money. Don't ask me how it happens, I have yet to figure it out myself.

2. Speaking of working a lot and not having any money, I rarely have time or the energy to drink as much as I used to, thus making me a light weight...go figure. So when I do go out (don't ask how I can drink when I don't have money, all you have to know is that I'm rad) I get drunk faster making me one of two things: 1. a cheap date or 2. very wordy.

3. I had to help do a 5th grade science project about rocket propulsion. To begin my week, then to end it I took 4 1st graders to dinner and the park, by myself, for the princess' birthday. How I survived that, I'll never know. One of the little girls was probably the spawn of Satan and he sent her to torture me for all the shitty stuff I've done in my life.

4. I went on a sort of blind date with a way younger guy who is almost a foot and half taller than me...making out on tip-toes is hard.

In a nutshell...

Adventures in Horrorland, not to be confused with Whoreland

2008-04-01T22:49:00.000-07:00

So amongst everything else going on in my sometimes understimulating, sometimes over exhausting life, my internet has been kaput so I have not had any sort of access to the outside world...otherwise known as Myspace.

Not too much has happened lately. Besides working two jobs, living out of my car and being way too tired to even go out and drink (the alcoholic withdrawals are harsh), things have been pretty meh...yeah, just meh. You know, aside from the occasional road rage or dealing with old ladies, Scottsdale snobs and the general public at my Sally's job. Today though, was stellar. I only worked at Sally's today, so I didn't want to kill myself to get some rest at the end of the day. While there, I always get comments on my multiple piercings and tattoos, but todays comment was by far the weirdest. A crotchety, old, hunched over lady came in looking for a mirror. I pointed her to the aisle and took my place back behind the cash register. She came up with her purchase and as I was ringing her up and putting her stuff in a bag when I heard a meek little voice speak. This is the conversation which ensued:

Crotchety old lady: "You look awful."

I slowly look up in disbelief and say, "Oh...because of my tattoos?"

Crotchety old lady: "Because of your tattoos, your piercings, everything! It makes me sick. It just hurts me that you would do that. It makes me want to cry."

I was in complete and utter awe and shock at what this teeny little white haired version of the crypt keeper was telling me. I didn't say anything to her since I had been rendered speechless. But I'm pretty sure the sassy, gay Mexican I work with smart mouthed her when she told him our music, which was a Rolling Stones song on the radio, "was horrible."

You know she's one of those people that dislikes "those darkies" and "dem wetbacks." Crazy white lady.

Let the games begin

2008-03-11T22:25:00.001-07:00

It's been a long while since I've really written anything on here with any substance, or well, interestingness. It doesn't really have anything to do with my two new jobs, since I just barely started working the second one yesterday and the salon has been pretty easy scheduled (read: I go in when I please) since it's not that busy yet, oh yeah, and since I'm not licensed yet. Speaking of which, if any of you want to give me money so I can pay for my state boards, I would not argue with you. But I digress. The whole me-not-blogging-or-writing-poetry thing is because I haven't really had anything to talk about. Oh, besides the running into that one night stand, life has been pretty typical. You know my usual drinking at Jupes or Casey Moores with my bests antics, just doesn't seem to be cutting it for entertainment value. At least in my eyes.

So today, out of sheer boredom, I posted an ad on Craigslist. Yes, I know the last time i did that the results were a catastrophe what with that one ex-boyfriend, but this time it's different. For one, I used short sentences, small words and was blunt. Oh yeah, and I posted my picture. Which I have never done before. And before you go check it out for yourself, it has already been flagged for removal...but not before I received about 98 responses. I'm pretty sure it got flagged because I maybe didn't respond back to someone and they got pissed. Whatever. I'm real surprised though, because in addition to the weird ones, funny ones and the cock pics, I got some pretty cool dudes. Though that really remains to be seen. Let's face it, internet dating, as some of you may know, is like visiting a glory hole. You never know what you're going to get. Not that I've ever been to a glory hole.

So I took the plunge and placed the ad and have e-mailed back and forth the most interesting, less scary responses. After all, a writer (I use the term writer loosely) needs to write about what they know. And if something good comes from it, whether it be a relationship and/or some even more interesting stories for Adventures in Whoreland, so be it. I'm pretty much down for anything and I did plan to be more adventurous and more fearless for this new year.

Life is too short to not live it to the fullest. Bang. Let the games begin.

My life in a nutshell: an existential update

2008-03-05T16:42:00.000-08:00

I have two jobs now. Sally beauty supply, which I have yet to actually start, and The Chop Shop in Scottsdale. Interesting. New tattoos, working on my sleeve. Bitchin'. No sexual conquests as of late. Not so bitchin'. Cold fingers on my right hand only. Weird. Talking to my new nephew in his mommy's tummy. Nurturing. Twirling in my bridesmaid dress. Exciting. Planning the princess' 7th birthday rock n' roll party. Fun.

That's about all I've got.

Adventures in Whoreland

2008-02-20T17:46:00.001-08:00

I think it's safe to say that the whole "Adventures in Whoreland" thing can apply to me in more ways than one. That title is not only to describe the antics of personal ads purveyors, but to describe the antics of one Mal Vicious.

Most people that know me well know that I like to play. Sometimes though, my playing catches up with me. I often like to describe myself as a man in a woman's body. That mainly pertains to my school of thought on relationships. Being that I don't generally like them. As much as I say I want a boyfriend, when the opportunity arrives I run for the hills. On the occasional hook up, I'm usually the one to sneak out in the morning with nothing but a curt note and a vague recollection of the night before. However, I'm pretty sure my flavor of the night doesn't mind at all that he doesn't have to deal with "that girl" he took home.

As much fun as I have, it sometimes catches up with me in the most unexpected places. Take Friday night for example. The crew and I hit up our local Pub n' Grub for some drinks. I hadn't planned on staying out late or drinking too much since I had a client very early the next morning. Four pitchers and a few rounds of rummy later I was pretty drunk. I ordered food because it seemed like a good idea at the time. As I was eating my fries a boy I didn't know who was friends with one of mine showed up and plopped himself right next to me. I paid no attention until I saw him reach for and take some of my fries. I drunkenly chastised him for taking a strangers fries citing rudeness, so he introduced himself to me and we shook hands. The second he said his name, I knew I'd slept with him before. I hadn't even really looked at his face, just the name and the touch of his hand sent through the faded memory. I immediately told Kendra what I was pretty sure had happened. Of course she asked when and I told her the story.

It had been a few years ago when after a night of drinking at a bar then a friends house, Kendra, another friend and I decided it was a good idea to go to one of his friends' houses. We got there and I immediately noticed one of the roommates took a liking to me. At the time I had real long hair and he wanted to play with it. Weird, I know. As the morning went on (yes, I said morning, it was like 6 am), I was peer pressured to do a couple of beer bongs. As if I wasn't already shit housed enough. Eventually, on my way out of the bathroom, said roommate cornered me and kissed me. Well, without any of the details, we "hooked up".

Fast forward to a few nights ago where I run into him and Kendra and I laughed our asses off at the hilarity that is my life. At least it wasn't as bad as when I ran into one of my flavors in San Diego. I mean, when you start seeing them in another state, that's when you know you're in trouble. Now this isn't to say that I'm a turbo slut and hump anything with a penis, nor is it to say that I'm virginal. I'd like to say that I like to enjoy everything that life has to offer and have fun...and sometimes its just plain funny.

It's about damn time

2008-02-11T22:58:00.001-08:00

Well, I did it. I finally graduated cosmetology school. Hooray for me. The grand day was this last Saturday...I got some flowers and a balloon and I clocked out as some friends and family looked on. Then I cried. Sometimes I hate being a girl. Regardless of some joking comments, I am NOT a beauty school drop out. Watch out world, here I come.

Adventures in Whoreland

2008-01-30T20:31:00.000-08:00

This week I'm bored of Craigslist. Maybe its because I've been too busy to actually peruse the online meat market. Or maybe its because there are the same ads from the same people every day. I've looked and looked and looked but all I see are ads that I've written about before, they're just worded differently.

I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm actually happy with my life, and have been for almost a month now has sizzled out my ability to blatantly, verbally attack complete strangers for their lifestyle choices. Maybe I should re-think this whole happiness schtick.

Meanwhile, I will sit here and work on my plan for world domination. Or better yet, my plan to become famous through MySpace popularity. I mean, if Tila Tequila can do it, why can't I? I'm not as trashy OR dumb. That was mean. Maybe the whole happiness should include being nice. Wait, who am I trying to fool, happy or not, I'm not nice. Meh, tomato, tomahtoe.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating Wednesday

2008-01-23T20:07:00.001-08:00

Why is it that we, as a whole, feel the need to fix things. From cars to houses, to people. Women are generally more prone to "fixing up" their significant others. I've actually heard a woman say that "you have to catch men early to train and fix them". I thought we were looking for a man to spend the rest of our lives with and not dogs. I guess I was wrong on that count.

I'm starting to think, though, that that particular way of thinking is ruining it for the rest of us. If I had a dollar for every time I met a guy who looked promising in the looks, humor, personality department but not so great in the job, making good money department. The funny thing is I don't care about all that other superficial crap. What I care about is the person, but they tend to think I care about whether or not they have a good paying job. Yes, that is sort of important in the long run, but something that can be worked out. I believe that if you have to fix it, don't buy it.

It looks like this guy is looking for his pretty woman. Well, whatever floats your boat.

Looking for a fixer upper ... - 42

Reply to: @craigslist.org
Date: 2008-01-10, 11:25AM MST

Seeking a very young (18-25), single, desperate, obedient, down on your luck, semi-homeless, shelter, halfway house, trailer park kinda girl, no kids & no drugs but sexually open minded & decent teeth (at least the front ones) you must be in fairly good physical shape and just in need of some TLC & cosmetic overhaul. I will woo you with flowers and romance. I will pick out your new clothing, jewelry, hair & makeup. provide you with multiple orgasms and help clean & fix you up and make you into my very own classy young trophy girl to hang on my arm and have my way with.

Although with all my financial woes, if I were single and, oh yeah, desperate, I might consider taking him up on his offer.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating Wednesday

2008-01-16T22:48:00.000-08:00

Every week I generally find the same people posting the same ads. Boring boring boring. Every once in a while I find a funny one...though sometimes I'm reaching in the funny department. Then there are those times where I find the proverbial needle in the haystack that is just too good for words. Maybe its the desensitization this insane world has ingrained in my head, but some of the things people like/want just don't really surprise me anymore. But this one...this one made me think. I thought that either the guy who posted this is 1. joking, 2. merely wants to see how far a woman will go (and judging by porn these days, she'll go far) to humiliate her or 3. he really and truly is genuinely intrigued by such a simple human fact. What do you think?

Generous and need pee - m4w - 28

Reply to: @craigslist.org
Date: 2008-01-15, 5:28PM MST

I posted this a few days ago and got some responses. But, nobody was really serious. I am very serious and want to do this. If you reply, please include a pic of at least a discription of yourself. I can host and am looking for tonight.

I am a generous man in Chandler looking for a girl who will pee her pants for me. I am goodlooking and am looking for now or really soon. I can host. Here is my pic. If you have one, it would be much appreciated.

The best part? He posted a picture. Now I know that pictures on the 'net aren't reliable, but still...I truly love the pictures. And I truly hope that I see these people, this guy in particular, out in the "real world". Not to be outright mean, but to silently relish in the little secret that they don't know I know. Voracious isn't the right word, but its the first that comes to mind.

Oh how time flies

2008-01-15T00:13:00.001-08:00

I can't help but be preoccupied with my impending birthday. In 8 days time I will be 29 years old. Yes, I know, it's not that old. The number isn't really what's getting to me. Sure, its that much closer to the big 3-0, but thats not it. Now I know I'm one of millions that have this problem the older they get and I am most definitely not the first one to express it.

I think its funny how we, as a human race, live. We're born, reared by parents and molded into an "individual". Then we're left to our own devices to birth and rear our own children if we so choose and otherwise make a life for ourselves. At this point in my life I feel as though I'm playing house. But not even a good version of house. With me about to turn 29 and the genius about to turn 11 shortly after I've been thinking a lot about the future, something that is unknown territory to me. In six and a half short years he will be ready to head off to a school some 800 miles away to pursue a long desired career. I realize that things change, but him talking about his plans already is really bringing me to reality.

The more I take a look around at my surroundings I notice...something I can't quite put my finger on. I've just been realizing that I don't think 17 and 18 year olds are old enough, maturity wise, to be out in the world on their own. I go school with a lot of girls around that age, and no offense to them because some of them are actually really rad, but I see it, the lack of life behind their eyes. I honestly don't know how I did it. I clearly was too stupid to be making my own decisions. I started having sex when I was seventeen (nowhere near as early as some of my other friends), got pregnant, graduated high school and married all in a matter of months. Then came 19. Separated after a whole year of playing house, I met who would be a pivotal player in my game of life.

I moved in with my mom, aka the live-in babysitter. I worked full-time and started learning how to live my life again. Enter the pivotal player. She was a anomaly. The anomaly and I then came to what I will now refer to as the wonder years. As in, "I wonder what happened that week because we were so wasted". I was seperated, young and didn't really know the possibilities. And then I found out. Cue the sex, drugs and rock and roll...literally, we partied like rock stars. That lasted until I got pregnant with the princess at 21. Back to playing house. Fast forward to separation yet again. I realized that even though I was, am, a good mom, I'm not cut out for the married life. Too much restraints and shackles. Call me masculine, I call it free-spirited. Nonetheless, I feel at that age I should have still been in high school not taking care of a family.

Now as my looming birthday rears its ugly head I still feel unready to take the world at large. Maybe because I have still not ventured out on my own as a true adult. Or maybe its because I'm high in the ranks of perpetually, emotionally stunted big kids. The very thought of my unreadiness gives me bats. And not the cute little I've-become-smitten-with-a-cute-boy kind of bats, the holy-shit-I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing kind.

Well, what's a girl to do, but go on living life at best while I fight like hell to not lose two of the most important things in my life...my sanity and my self. Emotionally retarded isn't the correct ailment, but its the first that comes to mind.

The bats are back

2008-01-03T16:47:00.000-08:00

And its not over a boy either, surprisingly enough. I think those bats are dead. This time its over my impending graduation. This afternoon in the middle of a partial highlight I got called into the directors office. When I walked in I was surprised to find both the director and the financial aid guy, both with big grins on their faces. At first I thought I was in trouble. Then she told me it was just my hours, but they were messed up since I had been terminated.

Even thought my hours weren't showing, the director informed me that I'll be graduating in about 3 weeks. 3 weeks! As excited as I am to be done with school, I'm a little uneasy about it as well. It kind of brings me back to the high school oh-no-I'm-going-to-be-thrown-into-the-real-world feelings. I'm 17 again. Only this time, I'm not about to have a baby, I'm about to embark on a full time actual career. Scary.

Not only did the director freak me out by telling me when I graduate, she freaked me out by telling me that she had a salon for me. A good one she knows I'll do good at. Scary. I don't think I was this freaked when I found out I was pregnant my senior year in high school. Go figure. I guess we'll see what the frightening world has to offer me. The bats are out of control.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday is back from sabbatical

2008-01-02T22:56:00.000-08:00

Here's the thing about Craigslist personals...the majority of people posting ads on there are lost in a land of delusion. Now, I'm not saying that people don't find "love" through online dating, because it happens, however shitty it ends (case in point, me). However, a lot of the people on here are just plain reaching. Take the ad below. The guy is looking for a woman no bigger than a size 6 with extremely big, fake breasts or someone who wants them. Chances are, that kind of woman is NOt, I reapeat, NOT on Craigslist searching for a mate. She's out trolling the clubs in Scottsdale. I mean, I'm just sayin'.

This "man" posted his MySpace url and I did look at it. After all, I'm nosy and this blahg just wouldn't be the same if I weren't so in other peoples business. He's not bad looking, apparently (according to pics) loaded with a hint of white trashiness. To bring my whole point home though, this man has been posting this, and another similar, ad for about 3 months. Probably longer, 3 months is just all I can remember. Give it up dude, you're not going to find this anomaly through an internet classified ad.

Looking for a wife who wants...

Reply to: @craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-23, 7:29AM MST

YES, I'm Looking for a serious relationship with a SLIM, FIT and attractive Lady who particularly WANTS or already has very large breast implants. I'm talking a woman no larger than a size 6 wanting DD to DDD implants. Yes, I like the "obviously implants" look on a slim tight figure. I'm a very handsome man, 44yo, 5'11", 185lbs and fit. Successful, beautiful homes, all the toys, etc. I seek a SOULMATE who would love to find a man who will give her encouragement and support in developing this extremely busty look. See sample photos below for the look I'm describing. Obviously, it takes a hell of a lot more than boobs to make a relationship but I definitely would like to find a woman who shares this interest before moving forward in a relationship. Feel free to write if you do... and of course, your pic gets mine or go to www dot myspace dot com

Delusion is the right word, and it is the first to come to mind.

New year, old gripes

2008-01-02T22:18:00.001-08:00

One thing I hate the most that had to happen to me today, the second day of the new year, is when random dudes off the street ask me to let them fix the dent in my car for a small fee.

Here's the thing...even if I HAD money to spare to fix my car, I'd do it in a reputable car shop...not in the parking lot of a local Circle K. You may think its convenient and you're helping me out, but in my opinion, you're just shady. Especially when I kindly reject your question of, "Do you ever plan to fix that ding in your car?" No a-hole, I was planning on having a dent in my car for the rest of my life. Turns out, there ARE dumb questions. After I kindly rejected his offer by offering that I have no money, but thank you, I left my car to go inside and pay for my gas...but before I made it in, the shady dude pulled up IN FRONT OF ME and blocked the entrance..."Hey ma'am, I'll fix it for you for $100 bucks on the spot!" Being that I may be a huge bitch and pretty mean at times, I'm pretty much real shy and unconfrontational to strangers. I really wanted to tell the guy to leave me alone because him bugging me to let him undent my car would be like me spotting a lady with real bad hair, walking up to her and asking her if I could do her hair. Of course I'd give her a deal. $50 bucks, right here on the spot. I have my shears in the car, who cares if I'm parked in front of McDonalds.

What I thought in my mind and what actually came out of my mouth apparently warranted dirty looks from the men in the truck. As though I were lying about the $10 to my name that I was using for gas. Just leave me alone people. I do NOT want you to fix my dent at Circle K, I do NOT want you to cut me a deal because I told you I don't have money. When I say I don't have money, I really mean I don't have money. I don't mean that I have a couple of extra hundred bucks laying around. Usually what I say, I mean. I may be a girl, but I don't generally have underlying meanings when I say something. I do NOT expect you to read my mind. I appreciate the fact that you are trying to lead a respectable life by running your own business, but leave me along. I don't want your street business. Maybe next time I'll be able to just say all that instead of being polite.

Politeness may be my downfall. Happy New Year to me.

First grade woes

2007-12-13T15:42:00.000-08:00

It was brought to my attention this afternoon, when the teacher called me, that the princess has been having altercations with a classmate lately. Rumor on the playground is that the princess and Laura are in competition on who gets to be Mia's 1st best friend. Mia is the new girl in school and is deciding who gets this illustrious title. Meanwhile, the princess is beating on Laura to the point where she is scared to go to school and had her mom call the school to complain about the princess' bullying.

I never had that sort of problem with the genius, but I never thought the princess would be the one to be getting into fights already. That little bruiser. She got taken to the principles' office and had a talking to.

I am not surprised, though. She's a little pistol. I just have to remember to keep her safety on.

Buh-humbug? Buh-randy!

2007-12-08T17:29:00.001-08:00

So its that time of year again. The music, the presents, the obligations. (un) Lucky for me, I got fired from my job at Club Tattoo, so now I have a ton of time to spend with the kids and family. Yipee. Hey, I'm trying to look at the silver lining. Although now that I'm out of a job, I'm out of money from that job to buy Christmas presents for my kids. Who fires someone weeks before Christmas?! Scrooge is the first person that comes to mind. It's a good thing I have their dad to count on for the buying of the presents.

Now with my even-more-broke ass, I will be making presents this year. A few paintings here, a couple of home-made hair accessories there and maybe some baked goods. I'll make due, I always do. Like that one year the ex and I had only ten dollars left after bills and he went to Wal-greens on Christmas eve and bought some little toys and candy...fortunately the kids were too young to notice. It's time for me to gather up my last ten dollars, so to speak, and buy those little dollar bin toys.

Now that I'm all amped up for my crafty Christmas I have to get ready for my client. Talk about Myspace being a good advertising tool. I better kick into high gear.

Adventures in Whoreland goes on sabbatical

2007-12-05T22:19:00.001-08:00

I'm just barely now getting to my computer for the day. I haven't even had time to think up material for the ads I've found over the weekend. So my Adventures in Whoreland is going on sabbatical. Don't worry my pretties, its only for two weeks and well, one is already almost over.

I just got home from an overly long night at work and after my second day of school, I am exhausted. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Tomorrow is the same shit, different day. My body got way too used to sleeping all day, or least laying in bed, and not doing much else. Now I'm thrown back head first into the live-in-my-car-never-see-my-kids-never-home lifestyle that I was used to, but sure did not miss. Not even one little bit.

Once I get into the swing of things, after next week, I'll start up the Adventures in Whoreland once again. For now my bed is calling out my name for a night of tossing and turning and exhaustion for tomorrow. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Pretty small nutshell

2007-12-04T16:39:00.000-08:00

A few things to catch you up on my comings and goings. It's been a while since I've written anything, but I've been fostering a busy schedule of sleeping all day and working all night followed by drinking a lot. I know, how DO I find the time to be so fabulous. I don't know how I do it.

However though, my luxurious (read: boring) life has come to an end. At least for the next couple of months. I started back at school again. Today was my first day back. It was pretty exciting (read: excruciatingly boring). I started at probably the worst possible time. Right before the holidays is really slow. Until the week before Christmas. Then slow again. Not to mention that "winter break" is coming up for the kiddos and the sister is in no condition (read: gestation-ally challenged) to baby-sit my saints for two to three whole weeks. We'll see how that goes.

In other, less interesting news, I've added more to my accouterments. I pierced both of my nostrils. And I love it. Also, my hair is black now, too...again.

Yeah, I know, I can't make up my mind. Maybe some day, but then I wouldn't be the epitome of eccentricity. I'm pretty sure that's all for now. I've had a long day, you know, being that I didn't get to sleep all day. My mind doesn't really know what's going on. Dementia isn't the right disorder, but its the first that comes to mind.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday on thursday

2007-11-29T12:55:00.000-08:00

First off, let me just say that I know I'm a day late, yesterday was insanely crazy. I don't think I was even home all day.

This week, we will be discussing fetishes, respectively. Last night I got asked if I have any. Now most people don't know this about me, but I'm pretty vanilla when it comes to sex. I'm not saying I'm bad at it, because well I'm not, but I don't do a lot of the crazy shit that most women seem to be doing now a days, so that's why I say vanilla. That's pretty much the only way I can describe it. Its funny because most men hit on me based on my looks and the fact that they figure since I have so many tattoos and piercings, I'll be into the kind of stuff they see in extreme porn. Homie don't play that. But I will say, since I'm pretty sure I'm starting to sound like a mormon on her honeymoon, I don't get complaints and satisfaction is involved on his part...just throwing it out there...don't want to never get laid again.

But I digress. Some of the things that men and women ask for is pretty humorous. Mainly men though, I've noticed, ask for weird things on CL than women. Women, I believe, are a little more discreet. And some of the request just straight up gross me out. Welcome to the ick factor.

would you like to watch me shave??? - m4w - 36

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-14, 7:45AM MST

Hi, It's finally my weekend, sorry to rub it in, but I'm now home alone in the morns and afts for the rest of the week. Have you ever wanted to watch a guy shave his pubic hair? I'm in need of a good trim, actually lets go bald, and would love to have an audience. If this sounds like something you like to see maybe we can sort it out.....

Now here is one where I really do wonder if he got any responses and was able to carry out this "fantasy" of his. I think I will ask him. God bless the internet.

A funny thing happened...

2007-11-23T11:04:00.000-08:00

On my way to Thanksgiving dinner. My tire blew out. We were halfway there, then BOOM goes the tire. So we pulled off on the side of the freeway to take a look. This is what it looked like:

Crack is Whack

We called for reinforcements. My sister had left a few minutes after we did, and boy was I glad that she was running late as well.

Then, the inevitable happened. I mean, it just wouldn't have been complete if this hadn't happened...the ex dropped the jack. Down. A hole. A drain hole to be exact.

And of course my spare tire was no bueno, so we couldn't use that. I ended up having to leave my poor baby on the side of the road. Yeah, my car is kind of a piece and its more than just a little messy, but I love it. It'd be like if I had to leave one of my kids on the side of the road. I mean, they're real smelly and sticky and just a little annoying, but I'd be real sad if I had to leave them behind with a bum tire. After I left my car, we continued on our way to eat some food. Because boy, does getting a flat sure build up an appetite. So eat I did. As my poor car sits on the freeway all alone and cold. Now I'm going to buy a new tire and rescue my car. I have until 3:45 this afternoon to pick it up, or else...

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday

2007-11-21T18:27:00.000-08:00

This week on Adventures in Whoreland, we are going to delve into the strange, freudian world of mommy and daddy complexes. I, myself have run into quite a few men who like to be called "Daddy". I comply, sometimes, but I don't really understand it. Why? Is it because it makes them feel in control and...well, I don't know. If any of you men that read this and want to openly admit that you like being called daddy and will tell me why, tell me. An inquiring mind wants to know. This ad doesn't really go into the whole "call me daddy" thing, but it's pretty close in the whole "I want to be your daddy" thing.

Daddy Issues?

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-12, 12:19PM MST

Are you attracted to older men? I'm more than happy to help you deal with your "Daddy Issues", even to the point of giving you that allowance that he never did. To make this realistic, you should be 18-28, attractive, non-smoking and FUN!

The other weird thing is the mommy thing. Now I don't mean the whole "Iwant a milf" thing...I mean the whole, "I want you to baby me and act like my mommy" thing. Though this one doesn't really surprise me. Grosses me out a little bit, but not really any kind of surprise there. Most men are just big babies looking for their mother, figuratively speaking of course, to take care of them. I'm pretty sure that towards the end of my marriage it all boiled down to the fact that I was not like his mother (may she rest in peace; why do we always have to add that in when speaking of the deceased?) in any way, shape or form. She was devout mormon who sold Amway, didn't drink, smoke or eat processed foods. I'm an agnostic atheist who smokes, drinks and eats fast food. She was high strung, I'm laid back. She was passionate about not getting social security cards, immunizations or giving them medicine and I could care less. All in all, not like his mother equals divorce. At least that's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

So this next ad was false advertising...a little. The subject says one thing, but the actual ad proves that he does need a mommy to teach him a thing or two...or that he just needs to go back to school. It looks as though the first part of the ad he's responding to someone, then goes into his "about me". Baby needs to learn to read and write.

i want a mommy to show me a thing or two - m4w

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-13, 6:16PM MST

Hi, I am a 22 year old hispanic u of a student currently living near the u of a. after reading your posting I am very confident that I am what you two are looking for. I would love to meet you two in person so we can discuss this further. I am 6 feet tall have brown hair and brown eyes. The way I work out is boxing during the week you could most likely find me at boxing inc. gym on stone. I don’t have any pics of my dick but I am cut and well over 7 inches looking for a woman between 30 to 50 years old

What does this tell us? People are weird. Which I am discovering more and more as I, not only read ads for fun, but as I date or meet men at bars, work, where ever. I am surrounded by men, more than half my friends and the majority of my co-workers. I love it, but let me tell you, boy am I scared.

Drunk e-mails

2007-11-17T13:07:00.001-08:00

Last night when I got home from staying out way later then intended and drinking more than I wanted, I checked my space. A "friend" had stated that he was looking for a punk rock girl...and this is what I said:

sorry to disappoint you, but there is no such thing as "punk rock" girls anymore...the last of them died out in 1987...and if you meet one that claims to be "punk rock", run, run as fast as you can because those girls are the homogenized, mass produced vapid versions of something that doesn't exist anymore, you know, unless you like that kind of thing...just a little unwanted advice from your friendly neighborhood mal vicious...hahahaha

"punk rock is not a look...it's a way of life, it's a way of thought"

Rant much? I hate labels. With a fiery passoin. So my rant has some truth to it. The little girls running around claiming to be punk rock don't even know what punk rock is. They think its wearing studded belts and pink hair and listening to Good Charlotte. Like the quote above says, its a way of life and a way of thought. I can't even claim to be "punk rock". As far as music goes, these so-called punks would flee at the sight of Gigi Allen taking a shit on stage in the middle of a show. Or would cover their ears at the sound of Bad Brains or Crass. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

So the lessen of the day: don't write drunk e-mails to boys you don't know the day before you start your period.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday

2007-11-14T15:16:00.001-08:00

What I have been wondering lately is 'what the fuck'? As in, what the fuck are they thinking. Take for example, this first ad:

HEY!! WHO WANTS A BABY ??? - 36

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-10, 6:45PM MST

Okay, so here's the deal. I am NOT going to IMPREGNATE YOU, unless you have...

1) A JOB!

2) A Checking AND a Savings Account -- WITH MONEY IN BOTH!!

3) A CAR -- that you service REGULARLY!

4) ZERO Debt!!!

5) NO Husband, NO Boyfriend, and NO children!

6) The ability to turn MENS heads!

7) And.... I'll tell you the REST later...

Alright, I don't have a checking account...damnit, I guess that counts me out. I mean, really? Really? I hope that this is a joke. Although I have an inkling that this guy is for real. He attached a picture to this ad, and well, he's not even good looking. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? One ugly baby coming up. Oh wait, nevermind. I do NOT want a baby with this man.

This week there were just so many wtf's that I couldn't decide on just one. So here's another, which, it really amazes me as to what people, namely men, really think about. Oh yeah, this is it:

Unique one!!! Do you like flashing? - m4w - 32

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-13, 1:21AM MST

Looking for someone that likes to flash in public. We go out and I shoot some pics of you flashing in public. If you want they can be shoots with no face. If this sounds like you give me a reply. Your pic gets mine.

I could be wrong, but is there a woman out there that would actually reply to, and go through with this guy? You find me that woman, and I'll get a tattoo of a big cock on my leg.

Last, but certainly not least, this last ad. It's hard to choose these. I actually have a folder for all the ads I find on here. Its insane. This last one is so simple, yet so acenine.

Want To Get Married? - 39

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-11, 9:39PM MST

Send Photo,,,, and details

Pick me, pick me, pick me! I want to get married. I mean, I don't really know what you look like, but I am SO desperate to attach myself to someone that I'll do it with a man I don't even know because I saw an ad in Craigslist. Sign me up.

What the fuck?

Urban legends: myth or reality

2007-11-13T16:37:00.001-08:00

Today as the princess got into the car, she asked me about Bloody Mary. I'm sure there is no explanation needed as to who or what Bloody Mary is...but just in case. Legend has it that she was a murderous witch who was burned at the stake. Another variation is that she was a housewife who murdered her own children. There are a few more different stories as to her origins. I don't think anyone really knows.

The story goes if you stand in a dark room in front of a mirror and say "Bloody Mary" 3 times, she'll appear and scratch your face off. There are other rituals to summoning her, but I've only ever tried the one ritual. So when the princess brought it up, I was intrigued. I don't think I even knew about the myth until I was at least 8. She's only 6. She told me that she went into the bathroom by the playground at recess, with two of her friends...to protect her, of course...and recited the frightening words. She looked at me wide eyed as she recounted the events leading up to her decision to risk her life. I couldn't help but laugh because she was saying it in such a tone, trying to scare me no doubt. Oh that one, she's a pistol.

I told her we would look it up on the computer when we got home. So we did and I read to her all the variations of the stories of Bloody Mary. Now she's scared shitless. She didn't want to leave the corner of my bed. I kind of take a sick pleasure in their fear. Call me evil. Or call me a person. I mean, what's the point of having kids if you can't enjoy yourself from the hustle and bustle of everyday life once in a while. I'm just sayin'.

My new favorite thing

2007-11-12T12:28:00.000-08:00

The other night as I was perusing the daily Craigslist casual encounters for my Adventures in Whoreland: webdating Wednesdays, I found myself trying to decipher some abbreviations. Some I'd never heard before. I decided to google the letters to see if I can figure out their meaning. I found something even better. Ladies and gentlemen, the Urban Dictionary. I think this is probably the best thing ever invented, and that is why I felt the need to post another blog. I knew it existed, but didn't really even think about it until I needed it. I'm bookmarking this website, that's for sure.

This is the last thing I looked up on there, therefore it is my word for the day:

1. PnP

"Party and Play" ... "party" means drugs, often meth (crystal/tina) or E, "play" means sex. Usually leads to long, chemmed-up sex sessions. Usually seen in chat room or ads.

SWM, 28, 6'2", 185#, 43c,32w, 8 cut, looking for some PnP with some nasty chicks

2. PnP

Seen most often in the gay community, slang for Party n' Play. Party refers to drug use- most often meth (tina, ice, crank) but sometimes ecstasy (E, XTC, Adam) cocaine (coke, blow, ski, snow), or poppers as well(though the latter is not generally considered a PnP item. Play refers to sex. PnP is considered a scene in itself- sex and drugs.

U into PnP?
Na, man, I don't touch that shit.

3. PnP

Used in chat rooms as the adreviation for "Party and Play". To meet have sex and alcohol or other drug.

Lets meet tomorrow at 2pm for PnP.

ALSO

1. p n' p

(pee-en-PEE) verb. abbreviation for party and play as relating to homosexual men engaging in sexual acts while high on methamphatimine (see p and p and crystal dick)

Tod: "Hey Tim. What are you doing this weekend?"
Tim: "I was invited to Tad's."
Tod: "Oh, that's right! Ted told me he got a teener.
Tim: "Yeah! Now I'll get laid."
Tod: "So, you guys are gonna p n' p huh?"
Tim: "I hope so."

2. p n' p

A slang term used in the porn film industry. An extreme close up of the "pucker and pimples", ie. ass shot. May or may not involve penetration.

"Zoom in closer- I wanna see p n' p"

Amazing.

Fashion Fascism at its best

2007-11-12T12:01:00.000-08:00

There is nothing more I love than watching Style tv. Such shows as Clean House, Hot guys that cook, Split ends, How do I look? and so much more. One of my favorites though, has to be How Do I Look?. Finola Hughs helps poor fashion retarded people find a better look along with "accomplices". The accomplices are two friends, family members or a mix of both, along with a guest "fashion expert". The accomplices go through the fashion victims closet and pick out their worst clothes to throw out, but not before they basically rip the victim a new one about how they dressed before. More times than not, tears ensue. After the emotions fly, the accomplices go shopping and pick out three complete outfits for the victim to try and pick, along with a new hair do and make-up.

I have seen A LOT of bad dressers on that show. But today, as I watch, I can't help but feel a little enraged at how the accomplices are treating their victim. Today, we have a young, hip mom who is stuck in her "punk" dressing ways. She's a new wife and mom,as well as fully involved in her church. The accomplices are her mom, husband and some random "fashion expert" I've never heard of. Her moms little speech on why she doesn't want her dressing that way anymore wasn't too bad. I mean, typical mom "I don't want you to have your own style, I want you to dress like me" lecture. But the husband. He told her she turns him off by the way she dresses. Um, seems like she doesn't turn him off THAT much being that he married her and knew when he proposed she spend the rest of her life with him that her style was different, 1. and 2. he had sex with her to get a baby. The fashion victim had her own style, and while it could have used a little more maturity, I didn't see her dressing that badly. Usually the fashion victims dress bad. This time, it seemed to me that it was basically a "I don't like your original style so I'm going to make you look like everyone else" style change. I guess this hits a little close to home, not that any of my family members and/or friends have ever expressed distaste for my style (besides my piercings).

Another thing that annoyed me about this episode...they tossed out her whole wardrobe. Even all of her Chuck Taylors. All these clothes thrown out, only to be replaced with only three, count them, THREE outfits. How fucked up is that. Usually, only a few select items are tossed...not this time. In my own humble opinion, I believe that some people do need such fashion help as being embarassed on national television for the way that they dress, but this time, this time I think it was a little harsh and just trying to turn someone into something they're not. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

What I don't get is why can't people just accept us for who we are? I know that there are a lot of prejudices out in the "real" world, I'm a target for a lot of those. But does that mean we have to conform to sombody's idea of what normal, sexy or pretty is?

One Saturday morning, after my nephew's volleyball game, I was waiting for my sister to finish her conversation with the other moms when I saw an old lady who looked like what I imagine Paris Hilton will look like when she's 80. This lady was no where near 80 years old, but her skin was so tanned, yellowed and leathery that she looked 20 years her actual age. Dressed in a black velour track suit with Juicy emblazoned across her ass with bleached blonde hair so high she could give Amy Winehouse a run for her money and so much make-up spackled on her face she could open her own department store make-up counter. I don't understand how she can look in the mirror and think she looks good. Oh, I forgot about the overly big fake boobs. But who am I to judge. That's her style and how she prefers to present herself, so be it. She didn't feel the same about me. As she walked by cackling with her friend, she happened to glance at me and gave me the worst look of disgust I have ever gotten from anyone in my entire life. I was modestly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. My hair though, and my jewelry and tattoos, that attracts the most attention. So I'm used to it. My sister was appalled. I just laughed it off. Society just teaches us as a whole to scoff at differences.

Well, what can you do? Maybe unconditionally love the person you marry or birthed no matter how they dress...I mean, of course unless they dress like hookers...but I'm just sayin'.

Eternally conflicted

2007-11-11T20:03:00.001-08:00

There are times...many, many times...when I don't really know what to do. About anything, really. I feel restless and impotent. I guess I don't really know what I want, but I know there's something missing.

I know the obvious, not having my own home and missing that proberbial "perfect" mate....but I don't think that's it. The problem is, I never figure out what that is. There's this cycle I go through. I'm happy and fine with how things are going, then out of nowhere BAM, I'm restless and unable to get comfortable with...something. I often wonder if I will ever find what it is I'm looking for or if I'm destined to be THAT person that makes themselves miserable searching for something, anything, that isn't there. You know, just for the sake of it.

Or maybe sometimes I just over think things. Maybe I'm just creating things to "miss". Maybe there are just too many thoughts swirling around in my head and I just need to shove them aside and become one of those girls that doesn't think and/or speak her mind. I'm telling you, those girls have it made. Agreeable, bouncy, empty headed. They don't even have to make decisions! How great would that be? Ok, maybe not all that great, but it might be a relief every once and a while.

Neophyte isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday

2007-11-07T20:05:00.001-08:00

Today, as I watched Sex and the City, I found myself wondering what the whole dating scene is all about. I've never really dated. I had a boyfriend in high school. Then I married him. After a split from the husband and a string of one night stands and friends with benefits, I got back together with the husband...which then ended after eightish or so years together. Then came the first actual boyfriend after the divorce. I wouldn't really say it was dating, so much as it was a string of nights at the bar and weekends in bed in hibernation from my friends. A rookie mistake, one that I hope to never make again. Apparently he didn't like going out in public with me...because then he couldn't find other girls to date. After him, I had a non-boyfriend. A guy who didn't spoil me like I'm used to and most definitely didn't take my shit. He was nice, caring and real good in bed. But in general, he was a little much to handle out in the real world and my friends didn't like him. Both "relationships" lasted about months.

Now all I'm left with are two friends with benefits, who have, as of late, been more friend and lacking in the benefit department. Frustrating as it is, I'm trying to deal with it. Those that know me well know that I am not one to go through "droughts", so to speak. I can say, however, that I'm dealing with it pretty well...regardless of the sometimes complaining I do while intoxicated. It also helps that in my free time (read: being a bum) my perusal of the daily "casual encounters" ads on Craigslist helps me to see that there are a lot of crazies in this world...I mean, I've met about half of them, but they were no where near as crazy as some of these guys.

Take for instance exhibit A:

wanna play war?

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-02, 8:16AM MST

I lay down and you blow the fuck out of me!

I wonder if he actually got any responses to that. And if he did, just who are these women that would actually stoop down to this level of anonynemity. Not anyone I know.

Then there's someone like this next example. I had to pick two because they both just took my breath away...I laughed so hard.

Trade shopping spree for breast milk.... - 39

Reply to:
Date: 2007-11-01, 4:52PM MST

Hi - I will treat you to a shopping spree at the mall in exchange for breast milk - you would be an attractive and clean single mom with large breasts ( really large ) race, weight, age un-important - but please be someone that takes care of herself.
Email for details...

Do you think he has mommy issues? You know Freud himself would have a field day with this one. There are so many aspects you can reach into to find out exactly why he would want the breast milk so bad. I could barely get the ex to test it on his wrist...much less want to take me out shopping in exchange for a refreshing swig.

Oh Craigslist. You may call it crazy, but I call it entertaining. It will either be our future or the downfall of our civilization. I'm betting on the latter.

Oh Halloween

2007-11-02T11:06:00.001-07:00

I love Halloween. It has always been one of my favorite holidays. Though lately, it hasn't been what it used to be. First off, when I was a kid, I took so much pride in making my own costumes. I never bought the mass-produced packaged sluts-in-a-bag. When I was in 5th grade, I went to school as a baby. Yes, I said it, a baby. At the time my sister was taking care of our 30 year old mentally retarded cousin. She wore depends. So I "borrowed" one for my costume. I really wish I had pictures though. I wore just the diaper, a t-shirt, my baby bonnet and a huge pacifier. It was pretty rad. Then when I go home I costume changed for trick or treating into a zombie cheerleader. Now-a-days, my kids only want the pre-packaged costumes which is disappointing.

What's a girl to do. Throw a party, of course. I used to throw the best kids Halloween parties. Last year though, due to my break-up, I didn't host one and it was a big disappointment to the kids. So this year, without a loser holding me back, I planned one. Half-heartedly, but planned nonetheless. I proclaimed to Kendra that Saturday what a nerd I was because I stayed home regardless of the invites out I got, to stamp Halloween images onto the goody bags. I ran around all day Saturday to get ready. I borrowed Kendras house, made the food (with the help of Kendra and Nila) and decorated. The kids had a blast. We bobbed for apples, had a costume contest and they ran around like little maniacs.

That Justin's a surly little one...just like his mama!

Did I mention I got a pinata?

The genius was pissed because, being the tallest kid, he was last in line for the pinata and didn't get a chance to hit it. Poor guy, he's such a gentle giant.

I think this was E-dawg's 15th apple bobbed. He was obsessed. "Aunt Mal, Aunt Mal! Take a picture of me again!"

Best Costume:

Most original costume

Coolest costume

Everyone

Supergirl

Partied out

I'd say it was a good time had by all.

After the kids were partied out and went home, Kendra, Kristin and I got ready for our adult party. Although I was pretty partied out already. Kids sure do have a way of wearing you out. We had fun, drank too much...the usual.

But it was a good enough weekend.

Now on actual Halloween night, now that was tiring. The ex and I went along with Kendra and Justin to trick-or-treat. I cannot wait until they're old enough to go by themselves. After the extensive walking, the ex and I took the kids to The Haunt. A local haunted house that's been around for 8 years. We waited in line for WAY too long. After about an hour in line, the genius and I wandered up to the front to check out the wares for sale. As we were walking, I heard a gaggle of oh's and whoa's when all of a sudden I felt something peg me hard on the back of the legs. At first I though it was a rock because, well, it stung that bad. Then I felt it. Wetness dripping down my hand. It was egg. I let out a string of profanities and looked at the genius. He had been hit too, but he was wearing shorts and the egg was running down his legs and into his shoes. I. Was. Pissed. These a-holes drove down the street throwing eggs at everyone, cars included, but of course, the genius and I were the only ones hit. Just my luck.

As much as I love this holiday, I'm glad it's over. All this build-up and then, bam, it's over. Just like that.

Adventures in Whoreland: webdating wednesday

2007-10-31T09:23:00.000-07:00

SWM SEEKS SWEET CANDY KITTY FOR HALLOWEEN BOBBING FOR FEMALE ORGASAM - m4w - 32

Reply to:
Date: 2007-10-31, 8:29AM MST

SWM attractive seeks some Halloween fun during the day looking to go bobbing for an orgasam.Love to please women open to all races... Love sexy prego women. So are you going to give me a trick or treat?Ihave pics.Will be waiting.

This lovely, articulate ad was posted in the "Casual Encounters" section on Craigslist this morning. Happy Halloween, right? I do have to give the guy props for trying to come up with some semblance of a witty subject line. I also love how he adds in the "love sexy prego women". I mean really.

It's funny because there are a lot of ads in the "casual encounters" section where men are whining that no one ever answers their ads. I'm pretty sure it's because you posted a picture of your dick, you're married and are looking for no strings attached sex with someone you've never met, looking-for-sex-in-all-the-wrong-places-guy. Women...wait, let me rephrase this...decent, well-adjusted women don't reply to ads like that. From the men I've talked to, they either don't get responses to their million ads on there, or they end up in shady situations with women that are less than desirable. Oh, the humility of internet dating.

Some people just shouldn't breed

2007-10-30T22:38:00.000-07:00

Another child dies in a car. In breaking news today, a mother of a 17 month old boy followed her usual routine on her way to work at a local Hooters...the only difference is that this time, she forgot to drop the baby off at daycare.

On the one hand, I feel bad for this woman. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to loose a child, and I hope I never have to feel that pain. On the other hand, how could you be so irresponsible as to leave your kid locked in a car for a whole shift at Hooters?! I'm not just passing blind judgement, trust me, I know the trials and tribulations of being a young, single mother. I have two kids and a "double", extremely busy life. Once a mother, its not hard to become scatter-brained. Especially while trying to juggle jobs, homelife and a baby. But come on. NO ONE can be that absent minded as to leave their child in a car for a whole Hooters waitressing shift.

I STILL to this day, check the backseat of the car before getting out. My youngest is 6. And boy, am I always running on Chicano time. I'm always late, to everything, have to run between mine and the ex's house to cart them to and from school...I pretty much live in my car. Much more so when I'm in school. However, I always manage to SOMEHOW get my kids to where they need to go no matter how late I'm running. Or how many things are on my mind. Even when I was a typical teenage mom. Trying to balance a new baby, new marriage and working a full-time job so the ex could finish high school. The concept of running around like a chicken with its head cut off is not lost on me.

Sometimes I just think that some people should not reproduce. Sterilization may not be the perfect solution, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Malice, mistress of the dark

2007-10-24T20:05:00.001-07:00

I'm watching a newish reality show Search for the next Elvira, and I just have to say that I could blow more than half of these girls out of the water. Big boobs...check. Love of the dark...check. Valley girl speak...check. Bubblegum sense of humor...check. If I would have known about this beforehand, well, I still wouldn't have tried out, but its nice to know that I would have wanted to. I have watched her show and movies since my dad first introduced me to horror movies when I was the tender age of five. One can only hope.

Web-dating Wednesday

2007-10-24T08:29:00.001-07:00

So I have decided that Wednesdays will be a day of web-dating phenomena. Since I have a multitude of e-mails for my book and I still forage the "scene" for material, I thought I'd give you little snipets for sheer enjoyment. I know they make me laugh, so why not share the love. This week, I found what has to be my favorite ad posted on Craigslist. This is an actual ad posted. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Enjoy:

Many women consider bimbos to be the worst of the female stereotypes; a giggling, vacant-eyed sexpot, who is obsessed with make-up and clothes and, of course, with men. Bimbos cater to men's sexual fantasies, usually at the expense of their own... or they allow the man's fantasies to become their own! Blonde hair, big tits and revealing clothes along with a slutty-but-dumb-and-helpless personality, the bimbo makes herself into a man-magnet, landing as many sexual partners as she can and eventually landing a husband - or better yet, a "sugar daddy"- to take care of her financial needs.

But do men really prefer bimbos? According to a recent study at the University of Michigan, the answer is YES. Men appear to prefer "less accomplished" women as possible mates - and women who are "relatively subordinate" to them.

Another study, from four British universities, found "that a high IQ is a hindrance for women wanting to get married while it is an asset for men." To quote this article:

" The study found that the likelihood of marriage increased by 35 percent for boys for each 16 point increase in IQ.

But for girls, there is a 40 percent drop for each 16 point rise, according to the survey by the universities of Aberdeen, Bristol, Edinburgh and Glasgow.

The study is based on the IQs of 900 men and women between their 10th and 40th birthdays. "

So, in other words, the dumber a girl is, the better her chances at landing a man, something I already knew. But being a bimbo isn't just about finding a guy to marry. Consider these other wonderful bimbo benefits:

• Bimbos are happier than most people!

• Bimbos only concern themselves with things they enjoy (which usually boils down to MAKEUP, CLOTHES and SEX).

• Bimbos get to have sex. A LOT.

• Bimbos have fewer inhibitions, which leads to a more fun, adventurous lifestyle!

If some or all of these things sound appealing to you, congratulations! You just may have what it takes to be MY bimbo!

But at this point, you may be saying to yourself "Oh no! I'm a smart, accomplished career woman! Is it TOO LATE for me?!?" Don't worry honey, I am here for you! Stick with me, and we'll have you turned into a dumb, blonde, giggling bimbo slut in no time! It may take a lot of work, or just a new attitude, but you CAN tap your inner bimbo!

and Remember "FAKE TITS ROCK!"

Boy, if these statistics are true, then I know I'm screwed. Too bad I don't feel the need to dumb myself down for men. I just don't think its worth it. Although I do know, from interviewing a lot of different people that guys ARE less intimidated by not-so-sharp women. One guy told a friend that the reason he doesn't date women like me, for example, is because "she seems too cool and really smart. That would make me feel dumb."...who knew that men were so insecure. Oh wait, from my experience with dating, or lack there of, I've KNOWN that men were that insecure. Hello, only the insecure ones break up with you through e-mail. I'm pretty sure that the ex-husband is one of the few men I know who is NOT so insecure and intimidated by smart women. Not that I'm a genius (read: damn close) but we did practcally grow up together.

Well, this ad made me laugh, and I hope it makes you laugh as well. It's really the simple things in life that I find amusing.

Get under my skin, why don't you

2007-10-20T13:42:00.000-07:00

I admit it. There are a lot of things that irritate me. For the most part, I'm pretty laid back and, well, meh. But for those who know me best know I'm easily irritated. One of the things that has been getting on my nerves lately are those guys that walk around asking you if you want them to do some body work. Insert clever pun here. They're always dirty, transient looking type men. Granted, they're out trying to make a decent living rather than taking the easy way out on a street corner, but really? I'm not going to pay a man that comes into my shop at 9 p.m. on a friday night asking if that's my Honda out there. "I can do body work right now. Sixty dollars", he says. There has been an onslaught of these propositions as of late. Every where I go, every where I turn, there they are. The most recent ambush was yesterday afternoon while I was at the Auto Zone buying a new battery. I was standing by the registers awaiting the return of my knight in shining armor, aka the man switching out my battery, when an unkempt foreign man, while perusing a hunting magazine, shouted at me from across the store. "Hey, is that your Honda out there?", he asked in broken English. Yes, I replied, that was my car. "You want, I do body work. Real fast, I fix it." I thanked him kindly and told him I didn't have any money for that. He gave me an odd look and went back to reading his magazine, but not without mumbling under his breath in some undecipherable language, probably bad mouthing me. He then put the magazine back on its rack, shot me a dirty look and stormed out of the store. I mean, really? He's going to play it like that? THAT is NO way to get good business. He really ground my gears.

The other thing that has been playing my grumpy chord is people that don't know what personal space is. A woman, tellingly drunk, waltzed into the shop. She rambled on about how she kind of sort of wants a tattoo and/or piercing, but wasn't sure what. It was slow and I was bored of cleaning, so I chatted with her a bit. She then noticed my unfinished quarter sleeve on my left arm. She walked up to me and before I could move away, she reached out and started STROKING MY ARM! I know, I call for attention with all my adornments, but that does not in any way shape or form mean that I want strangers, probably with dirty hands, touching me. She literally stroked my arm with BOTH hands. Up and down and all around. Ick. I get nauseous just thinking about it. Don't people KNOW about the bubble? "Come one, come all! But ladies and gentlemen, please DO NOT touch the Incredible Tattooed Woman! She is very tempermental and may bite your arm off! I repeat, DO NOT touch the circus freaks!"

A very weird nutshell

2007-10-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

1. Last night I got tattooed! There's nothing more that I love than a fresh tattoo. I mean, besides my kids. I got it on my knuckles and boy, did it hurt like a mother...Here are some pictures of my loooooong night with Jason Kralovetz...he pretty much rocks at tattoos:

2. Today I got pierced. Yeah, I know, I should a. slow down and b. I probably don't need anymore holes in my face. But you know what? I WANT more holes in my face. One thing that people close to me know is that when I want something, I get it. It's just how I am. I was pretty much raised like an only child considering Nila got married when I was only 12...needless to say, after that, I got everything I asked for. Including a tattoo when I was only 16. But I'd persistantly asked...and I got it. Yay me. But I digress. Here is a picture of my new piercings. One thing I do have to say though is that they're not that cute yet because the barbells I have in are very long. The very second I can change them out, I am. The barbells are very obtrusive and I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose weight from having these. It's very hard to eat...one liquid diet please. So, here it is...my newest accoutrements:

3. With newly tattooed knuckles and ugly silver barbells sticking out of my cheeks, I made my way to the Sunridge learning center for the kids' parent/teacher conferences. It often gives me a slight (usually irritated) joy to see the other parents' faces when I walk by. Their surprise that someone like me has kids...their disgust at my many body modifications...the surprise that not only do I look too young to have a 10 year old, I actually take an interest in their education and attend such inane things as parent/teacher conferences. The genius' teacher is used to me. We get along well, so that went well. I am ecstatically happy to report that he is doing great thus far. Last year was a constant struggle and string of groundings because he wouldn't do his homework, bring things home, blah blah blah. But now? Now he's doing everything he's supposed to do and I'm stoked. So far, I don't have to be mean mommy. I think it helps that the princess is under duress as well about doing all her work. She brags about how good she is at science and math and how the teacher gives her accelerated works. It seems to be a competition. Which hey, if it gets him doing well in school, then compete away kids, compete away. The princess' conference went well also. Her teacher said she's real mature for a first grader, she's bright, a fast learner, popular...but she talks and socializes too much. Flash back to my school days. This is the first year we've had this teacher. I explained to her that we are a family of talkers. Every. Single. One of us. She half giggled. I don't think she really gets my sense of humor. All in all, her report was excellent as well. Sigh of relief.

4. On a totally unrelated note, there are some commercials that really bug me. But there's one in particular that really grinds my gears. It's a diet pill ad. Their logo is "We couldn't say it on tv if it wasn't true". I'm sorry, but the last time I checked, television was a cornucopia of finely weaved lies...not only in sitcoms, but in commercials as well as the news. Go figure.

On that note, I'm going to call it an early night even though I'm supposed to go out to celebrate a friends graduation. I'm strangely exhausted and just want to sleep, sleep, sleep. Sleep has been a foreign subject for me lately, and I would very much so like to get reacquainted.

Out of the mouths of babes

2007-10-10T14:56:00.001-07:00

E-dawg (nephew 1): "Do you know who created the world and everything in it Aunt Mal?"

Trist (nephew 2): "Yeah, Bob Marley."

Made me laugh so hard, I'm almost tempted to write the texting slang for 'laughing my ass off'...ALMOST. That is the lesson of the day. Learn it, love it, live it.

I rule

2007-10-08T13:15:00.001-07:00

I rule
My poem, Severed Vision has won the editor's choice award...yeah, I pretty much rule. What does this award get me? My poem published in some hard-bound "anthology" book and also read on a cd of poems. Yeah, I'd rather have money. But, poetry.com and the international library of poetry deemed my poem good enough for these so-called publications. Yay for me. Here's my poem, enjoy:

Severed vision

Eyes don't see what's really there
Always blind to everything
Bumping into walls, nonexistent
Bruises and scars galore
With nothing to heal them but pain
Catching flashes here and there
Everything's now in disarray
Searing hot is the chaos,
The words,
In the burned retina

Mal Nolan

The couch ate my daughter

2007-10-05T22:12:00.000-07:00

A few things

2007-10-05T14:55:00.001-07:00

Just a few things that are currently occupying my already over flowing mind.

1. This morning as my sister and I were o our way to breakfast, she. Called. Me Britney! As in Britney Spears, the shitty mom. *gasp* Its a good thing she was just kidding. It's funny how people have taken to referring to bad parenting and/or going pantieless as a "Britney". Damn that girl needs help.

2. I have a date on Sunday. With a guy I really like. Its weird for me to say that since, get ready for it, I haven't actually met him in person. We've been talking on the phone a lot. Crazy, I know, but what's a girl to do. And no, this was NOT a Craigslist hook-up. We all know how terribly wrong that went with me. But I digress. I do, however, have to admit that the butterflies are back in full force. It's a love/hate thing with me and the butterflies. But I feel them. And I'm not really sure what to think about it. Of course, my wall has gone up, but there's bricks poked out here and there for a little something, something. We'll see how this budding relationship goes. When I told Kendra about him I was giving her his details. He's 37 and has three kids that don't live with him. His oldest is 18. Kendra says to me, "Are we really at the point in our lives where we're starting to date guys with 18 year old kids?!" Apparently, I am.

3. Today is my nephew Tristan's birthday. He is now 11. Nila and I were talking about how its so weird that in only 5 short years he'll be old enough to drive. Scary. I was telling him this morning how I remembered the day of his birth. My mom woke me up at five in the morning. I was, at the time, about a month pregnant with the genius, so not in the best of moods. Especially considering that she'd had about three false alarms previously and I was convinced that this was one as well. I went back to sleep. Now here he is, growing up before my very eyes. Precious indeed.

4. I went out last night and drank way too much. Well, I don't really think I drank too much as I hadn't eaten anything since my only meal at 2 and I was drinking on an empty stomach. Bad idea. I actually managed, though, to wake up early, have breakfast with my sister and do a little shopping. All while extremely hungover. I'm getting too old for this. I most definitely plan on minimal, if at all, drinking this weekend. The sober life: for me? We'll see.

I guess that's it for now. It's so hard for me sometimes to get everything in my mind down at one time. I'm easily distracted and have the memory of an 80 year old with alzheimer's. A.D.D. may not be the right disease, but its the first that comes to mind.

Meeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

2007-10-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

Oh. So. Tired. I worked today during the day. I normally work at night. I prefer the night. I wore a pair of new Vans slip-ons. With thick socks. Bad idea. Feet hurt. Made the mistake of going out last night. Damn piercers and artists. They make you drink shots of Patron. Ick. Bad idea. Cutting hair tonight. Bad idea. Dinner date. After dinner date. Might be bad ideas. After all, its a week of bad ideas so far. It's only Tuesday. Wonder what the rest of the week holds for me. Hopefully the end holds a trip to San Diego. IF I get the check I'm waiting for. If not, I'm stuck in Hellzona for who knows how long. At least the weather is waaaaaaaay nicer. But still...would like to get away for the last time this summer.

To tired to write anymore. Rest until the client calls. There is most definitely NO GOOD REST for the wicked.

Never judge a book by its cover

2007-10-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

Raising kids these days is real hard. I'm not gonna lie. Especially considering the fact that kids are doing things earlier and earlier than ever before. I know, besides my short-comings, I am a fully capable young mother. But honestly, I don't like kids. I like my kids. I like the wife's kid. I even like my nephews (sometimes one more than the other). Kids in general, however, not really my thing. The other day I mentioned to my sister how I hated kids. She said I was mean. I laughed and told her that, OBVIOUSLY, I liked our kids, but other kids, just bug the shit out of me.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

One thing is for sure though. My kids are two of the smartest and well behaved children. I'm not just saying that because they're mine. One night the wife and I took the brood out the Chuck E. Cheese's. Normally we get stared at...tattoos, piercings, studded belts. We're used to it. Although this night was particularly irritating because the looks were judgemental, at best. Most people think that since we're young and "alternative" looking, we can't possibly be good parents. Our kids were the best behaved ones there. Kids running wild, ripping shit up, knocking shit down, screaming, breaking shit...granted we were at a kids restaurant, but I believe that there is a certain decorum that even the little ones can follow while out in public. My kiddos have a very structured life. Yes, sometimes (read: a lot of the time) things get crazy or I get lazy, but for the most part, homework at the same time every night, the same bed time for sure and baths every other night. Blah, blah, blah. You get the idea.

I'm used to getting dirty, curious and straight up confused looks. But the looks that really grind my gears are the ones when I'm out with my kids. Yes, I not only look too young to have a 10 AND a 6 year old, I also have numerous tattoos and piercings, but that does not mean I don't know how to take care of my mini-me's. Chances are my kids are smarter, cooler, funnier, radder, more well behaved and tougher than your kids. So there. Discrimination isn't the right personality flaw, but its the first that comes to mind.

Ode to school picture day

2007-09-28T00:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was school picture day for the kiddos. Back in my day (gawd I feel old saying that) you brushed your hair, wore a clean shirt and mom gave you a check to order prints. Then you went to school where you sat in front of a generic background while the photographer barely gives you enough time to smile and say cheese. Now, they have, not only different colored backgrounds to choose from, but four, not one or two or three, but FOUR poses to choose from. Relaxed, traditional, close-up and standing. It took her a while but the princess finally chose the relaxed pose. And by relaxed, they mean hand under chin. Yeah, cause I pose like that when I'm relaxed. Oh, with the violet background...because she thinks it'll make her eyes look pretty. The genius could care less. He didn't even want me to order prints. I told him I had to buy some so I'd have blackmail for when he's older. There really are some good benefits to having a child.

Since I'm going to be embarassing the kiddos when they're older, I might as well practice what I preach. So here's my high school yearbook photo. I'm pretty sure its my junior year. Too much weed makes those years kind of hazy. One thing's for sure, I may have gotten older, wiser and fatter, but I don't think I've "changed" much, so to speak. After all, redheads have more fun.

Oh, those were the days.

The vicious cycle

2007-09-27T23:36:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. I'm sick. I can't sleep at night. I sleep all day. Boy is it going to suck when I start school again and actually HAVE to be awake during the day. Ok, I guess I'm exaggerating a little when I say I sleep all day. Its hard to sleep all day when you've already been up for 2 hours making breakfast, getting kids ready and driving them to school. I guess I should say I vapidly lay in bed and blindly stare at the t.v. all day. I try real hard to sleep at night. That usually just turns into me tossing and turning. Peeing. Drinking water. Tossing and turning. Peeing. Are you seeing a pattern here, because I am.

Though sometimes while I'm trying real hard to sleep, I get things done. Kind of like a crack head. While normal people are sleeping, I'm...not. A couple of nights ago, I completely cleaned my room, closet included. I ACTUALLY got rid of half the clothes in my closet. That shit never happens. Usually I'll get rid of a pair of pants and maybe a couple of shirts. Not this time. I succeded in getting what I'd put my mind to done...without procrastination. Even better, I took the four huge, overflowing bags of clothes and one bag full of shoes and purses to the donation drop off bin. Trust me, if I had waited, those bags would have stayed in my room for days, weeks, maybe even months, thus negating the cleaning. I feel good about it. There were clothes in there I hadn't worn for years. Pants I'd kept because, well, "I might magically lose 3 pants sizes". Shirts I didn't even like, but kept just in case I decided to start wearing color.

I guess there is one good thing to not sleeping. I can already tell I'm not going to be falling asleep anytime soon. It's been a while, so I think maybe I'll paint. I bought a bunch of art supplies about a month ago and they are STILL unopened. Painting, cleaning and no sex...that's mi vida loca.

::sigh:: I think I need something new and exciting in my life right now. What? I don't know. I'm sure that when I find it, I'll know. Because my life as of late (read: sick in bed) has been boring, to say the least.

Its like magic

2007-09-25T10:48:00.001-07:00

This is my favorite Post Secret for the week. I've always wanted to send in a secret, but I figure that usually there's one a week that is something eerily close to one of my own "secrets", so being the lazy ass that I am, I just wait every week instead of taking the time to make my own. I guess a lot of people have the same secrets.

What's a mother to do

2007-09-23T20:04:00.001-07:00

She's 6 going on 20...I better lock her up.

Muse to my ears

2007-09-23T13:28:00.001-07:00

I think I'm suffering through another case of 'writers block'. It's frustrating. I couldn't even think of a witty subject line. Merely a cheesy one. I've decided its time to clean house though. That might help. My room has been the recent area to a war devastation, so to speak. The war of my clothes, hair products and shoes. I have a really bad habit of, while deciding what to wear for that day or night, throwing unappealing outfits onto the floor, instead of back in the closet. Oy, and the closet, well that's a small nation on its own. I have clothes that I haven't even worn in years. I tend to hold onto things in the hopes of using it again. It never actually happens though. As for the hair products, since the termination I've been doing hair out of my house, but I have absolutely no where to keep my growing collection of hair colors and combs and shears, oh my.

Take some deep breaths. Meditate. Clean room, clean mind, clean soul.

You are SO not African

2007-09-19T22:36:00.001-07:00

Is pretty much the reaction I got from the ex when he saw my newly, inch cut ears. The ex tends to get a little preachy with ~~certain~~ all things, so he went into some form of a tirade where he went onto explain to me (sometimes I swear he thinks I'm a 4 year old retarded kid) how some tribes in Africa stretch their lips and use big, wooden plates...and how some Aztec and Mayan tribes do the same, but that's ok, because Aztec and Mayan is part of my ancestry and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. I usually tend to zone out and think about other things when he talks. For instance, I was thinking about what color I wanted to paint my finger nails and how I did such a good job on my toes. Its not that I don't think he has anything valid to say, its just that he manages to bore the socks off of me. One reason we are now divorced.

I love my ears. I think it adds to my eccentricity, as weird as that sounds. Most people, my family and friends included, just think I'm crazy. Maybe. But what's my life worth if I don't do what I want. I can't just pick up and move out of town becaue I'm basically shackled to my so called life here in Hellzona, but I CAN modify my body any way I choose. My kids don't mind it. Although the princess did express her distaste at the thought of me getting MORE tattoos, she doesn't mind my stretched ears. And that's fine. My kids don't have to adorn their bodies like I do when they grow up, that's their perogative. Often lately, I've been asked why I do "this" to my body. And when I explain my reasoning I'm asked what I would do when my kids want to get tattoos and piercings when they grow up. Pshaw. They ask in a tone of voice which suggests I would encourage such a thing. As if I'm going to take them to one of my artist friends and have him permanently ink my child. As if.

People are so retarded when it comes to things that aren't "socially acceptable". This topic was also brought up in Rock star mommy's blahg when asked why she would choose to give her son a mohawk and *gasp* temporarily color it blue when he is so young he can't choose for himself. Why? Why, I ask, must people be so naive? If it's not something they would do themselves, well then, its just wrong. Stupid is NOT as stupid does.

While Rock star mommy is dealing with creepy readers on a less extreme topic, I'm dealing with my mom on a "she can't look at me when we speak to each other" situation. I'd been hiding my ears from her by covering them with my hair. Not because I think its wrong, but because I knew she'd freak and I didn't want to hear it. When mi herana came by the other morning, she, of course, noticed within seconds of seeing me that something was different. "Your ears look bigger. Did you stretch them again?!" I showed her my ears and she expressed her shock and amazement. Mi madre mosied on by and overheard Nila saying that I was crazy. She immediately looked at me, then looked back at my sister, "What'd she do now?! Did she do something? What'd she do to herself now?!" I sighed, tucked my hair behind my ears and showed her. Needless to say, she was not happy about it. My mother is the queen of off-handed comments. Yesterday morning as I left to take the kiddos to school, she told me I was destroying my body. "Well mom, I believe that the beer I drink, cigs I smoke and pills I take are what's essentially destroying my body and NOT the stretching of my ears." If only I was quick witted enough at 7:30 in the morning to have actually said that. If only. Another dramatic comment made was for me to cover my ears while I was talking to her. That's new. She took my face tattoo in stride and thought it looked cute. But holes in my ears bigger...well now, that's just crazy. I think SHE needs to take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'

2007-09-18T02:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not one to call myself a feminist in any way, shape or form, but sometimes there are some issues which I feel need attention. In some past and recent events, there has been argument over whether breast feeding is "obscene" or not. OBSCENE. In the recent past MySpace itself has deleted a users pictures of her breastfeeding claiming obscenity. Most recently, this has been an issue with Facebook.

I normally am not one to want to sit and watch a mom sit with a baby stuck to her tit. But I wouldn't call it obscene. It's a natural part of life. No, I'm not saying everyone has to enjoy it, in fact, a lot of women choose NOT to breast feed their babies, in large part, due to ickiness. My best friend, for example, chose not to nurse for that reason exactly. I, on the other hand, took the other road for the reason that I believed that would be the best nutrition for the princess in her first nine months of life. That's not to say I did it in public because I also alternated with a bottle, but I am not opposed to other women making that choice.

I just think its ridiculous that on an almost tri-weekly basis I get accosted by men whose Myspace profiles hold the "requisite" penis picture asking me to do naughty things to them, yet a woman can't have a picture on her personal "space" of her doing something natural. Literally. Icky or not, women HAD to breast feed their offspring in the beginning. They didn't have the luxuries we women now have today...breast pumps, formula, bottles, wet nurses...how do we think we were actually nourished 100 years ago.

The ironic thing about all this is that Facebook is host to approximately 350 pro-ana groups. For those of you that don't know, pro-ana is a community in support of anorexia nervosa. How can we conciously house the idea that females and males (yes, there are male anorexics), young and old alike should purposely destroy their bodies in the name of "skeletalism" while we are calling the nourishment of a baby "obscene"?

In this young mothers' humble opinion, society needs to take some time and let the ridiculousness of some issues marinate in its collective minds. Step one to a societal utopia (so to speak): grow up.

**Edit** One thing I forgot to mention about the whole "obscene breast feeding" debacle...We use women in obectifying ways to sell products for the sake of consumerism. Tits are for selling, not for feeding babies. Go figure.

I can't even think of a witty subject line

2007-09-17T05:54:00.001-07:00

I'm going to keep this short and sweet. Saturday I went into the shop for some jewelry for Ambular. I came out with very sore ears. Why sore, you ask?

Well, for a while, I'd been thinking of stretching my ears from 7/16 to a full inch. There's a way to do it quick, but painful. Being that I'm all about instant gratification, I chose to go the painful route.

As much as I love my newly stretched ears, it hurts like a motherf***er. I am currently laying in bed, not able to sleep due to excruciating pain, with a frozen Go-gurt behind each ear. I know that in a few days (read:weeks, but I'm sometimes an optimist) this will all be well worth it. As for right now, I'm hating life. I would like nothing more that to be able to sleep rith now. Here is the result of my pain though:

Take A LOT of drinks. A ton of pills. Repeat.

Boredom town; Population: Me

2007-09-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

This has been the longest week in the longest of weeks in history. I actually thought it has been two weeks since the termination, but in fact, it has been exactly 1 week and 2 days. That's right, not even a whole week and a half. This realization just hit me about an hour ago.

I mean, I knew that my days seemed longer and more drawn out, but this is ricockulous. I feel as though I'm stuck in the twilight zone or the outer limits and I'm just going to be stuck in this week with the never ending days for eternity. Not to mention the boredom. I am bored beyond belief. I have DirecTv with, like, 400 channels, and...nothing. A new computer and...nothing. I can't even think of what to write in this blahg today. My mind has gone vapid.

Shot by Mal Vicious at 2007-09-15

See? Vapid. Take A LOT of drinks. A ton of pills. Repeat.

Clarity is underrated

2007-09-12T21:46:00.000-07:00

*DAD WARNING* Sex talk contained in todays blog. You have been warned.

Lately I've been really preoccupied. Not even able to write more than two sentences in one week. I just figured out what it is that has been plagueing my mind as of late. I have turned into a man.

Not physically, of course, but mentally. It's been two months since I last had sex. My days have been filled with sexually frustrated thoughts. The first two weeks, I was bitchy. Frustrated. Irritable. But after that, I thought, "Well fuck it! I can handle not having sex for a while. After all, it's not the most important thing. And people deal with no sex all the time." That school of thought lasted for about a week and a half. Why. Why. Why. I am literally accosted by these thoughts on an almost minute by minute basis. I don't know how men do it. It has often been said that men think about sex every 7 seconds, though this has been sited as an urban legend. Urban legend or not, I most definitely HAVE been thinking about sex every 7 seconds. At least it seems that way.

My retainers have been unavailable lately and, for once, I'm not desperate (read: morally inept) enough to just go pick up some random stranger to use meerly for sex.

Well, maybe the longer this proverbial dry spell goes on, the less I'll even think about how my hymen has essentially grown back and, with two kids, am a unintentional born-again virgin. Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

The times...they are a-changing

2007-09-10T23:58:00.001-07:00

One of the things that has come up often in conversation and has been marinating in my mind lately is how fast kids are growing up these days. When my class first started color, nay had a 12 year old client. She talked about oral sex like it was eating candy and I'm pretty sure she thought she was real cool talking about it with me. When I told her I did NOT think that was cool and that I hadn't done any of that until I had a boyfriend at the age of 17, she was shocked. She revealed (read: bragged) about how she had recently gotten kicked out of school for giving a classmate a blowjob on a school bus. I absolutely could not believe what I was hearing! I know, I know, this kind of shock coming from someone who got knocked up at the tender age of 17 while still in high school. The difference, however, is that I didn't lose my virginity UNTIL I was 17 with my first real boyfriend after we'd been dating about eight months.

When I was 12, my mom dropped the p-bomb. If by p-bomb, I mean she told me she was taking me to see a psychiatrist. She told me she was concerned that I was not a normal child. I spent the majority of my days reading, writing and watching scary movies. I hung out with my friends a lot, but I didn't really like them that much. I hadn't lived here in Arizona that long, and while I was still interested in doing "kid" things like swimming and riding bikes, most of the other girls were interested in having sex with their 18 year old boyfriends and drinking. While I did dabble with pot from time to time, sex and alcohol just didn't interest me. Not like it does now. With a C-cup bra size at 12 I got offers to date, but I didn't want to deal with the pressures of sex. So I stayed home and read. I much rather enjoyed delving into a good book, vicariously living through someone elses adventures in life. And often times writing my own stories. So I went to see the psychiatrist. I was a precocious pre-teen and in just two sessions told him that he and my mom were crazy if they thought I needed to be more like a "normal" kid. I told them both that I could really go out and get a boyfriend, start having sex and drink alcohol f they really wanted me to be "normal". What IS normal anyway?

What worries me the most though is that the genius is 10. He'll be 12 in two very short years. While I have an inkling that the princess is going to be more to worry about, the genius is closer to the woes and qualms of adolecsence. What's a mother to do.

On one hand, I want to keep them both kids for as long as I can. Though more knowledgeable than most kids where certain things are concerned, they are sheltered and I am strict. On the other hand, I know they have to grow up and learn the ways of the world on their own. It's just a lot harder than I ever imagined. I guess its true what they say, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life. The facts of life."

At a loss

2007-09-09T17:22:00.001-07:00

For words, that is. I don't know why, but I'm sitting here in front of my laptop and can't really think of anything to talk about. A lot had happened lately, but I just can't seem to find the words to descibe anything. Nothing witty, sardonic or clever to say. Writers block isn't a disease, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Materialism at its best

2007-09-05T08:08:00.000-07:00

Student loan money came in. Yay for school. Yay for all the new toys I just bought, including my new Mac. Blog world beware, I have the internet at my disposal.

Funtime is OVER

2007-08-25T21:31:00.001-07:00

I'm back from paradise. It was a short trip, but super fun. It was great to see Darren, I love that gay. And it was fun visiting Shawn at Warped tour. It was even fun singing karaoke at a different bar in a different state.

Some little tidbits about the past few days...
My black eye...excuse me, black cheek...I don't even want to talk about it.
Hot and ready...$5.
"I'm lusting after those motors."
"I need to make a mobile out of hubcaps."
"That cat's a bitch, I'm gonna call her Bitch Kitty."

The wife and Heather are amazing and always a good time on road trips. We always come up with the funniest shit and I'm always entertained. Hooray for beer. One thing's for sure, I most definitely needed this. Even though it was a short trip, I had loads of fun and got to forget about all the crap I've been having to deal with lately. How do you spell relief? S-a-n D-e-i-g-o.

And now back to my regularly scheduled life.

Completely amazing

2007-08-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

I am currently sitting in the cutest little house in 70 degree weather in San Diego...and I couldn't be happier. I needed this. All the shit I've had to deal with lately...yeah, I most definitely needed this. We are getting ready to go to Warped tour...beer, hot tattooed dudes...I'm pretty much having an 18 year old moment.

On another note, my baby sister had her baby this past Monday. A baby girl. I need to make my way out to El Paso to see her and the bundle of...joy? No, really, I'm happy for her.

So off I go to do the wife's hair and to get as cute as I possibly can for my day of fun in the not so hot sun. I will send a postcard.

Pet peeve for the day

2007-08-21T17:11:00.001-07:00

When people don't tip after getting their hair done. Even just five dollars. Hair is NOT easy to do. Granted, I'm spoiled and used to getting very well tipped, but still, those in the service industry now what it's like to do a bunch of work for someone and not get anything in gratitude. I'm in such an "I hate people" type of mood. Thanks no-tip lady.