Along with certain phantom pains I have been suffering lately, I am also suffering some very real, physical pains as well. Starting Saturday night at 9:15, I virtually worked for 24 hours straight, thank you very much DG. The end result of this is that my ankles are freaking killing me!! Don't ask me why it's my ankles that hurt. I have no idea. But hurt they do, and they have swollen up to boot. And no, for all the smartasses out there, I am not retaining fluid.
I took myself off to the state store for a little self medicating of the phantom pains. Vodka can work wonders, if properly administered, after all. However, it does absolutely nothing for my poor, throbbing ankles. Enter Lortab. And oh what an entrance it was. Obviously, I was not thinking clearly before I settled on this plan of action. There are two things you should probably know about me. The first thing is that I had already started drinking the vodka when I decided to take the Lortab. The second thing is that Lortab has a unique affect on me. Yep, it makes me horny.
So here I sit, just waiting for the effects of my not-well-thought-out plan. Thus far, my ankles are still throbbing, and so are my phantom pains. But I expect that in the next thirty minutes or so I will be feeling no pain at all. Actually I expect I won't be feeling much of anything at all. Thank God I don't have to be at DG until 1:30 tomorrow. Thank God again that my daughter can and will take my phone away from me if I lose my mind. Any male friend I have needs to be very afraid right now. I am afraid for them at this point.
If I can still function later, I will let you know how I feel. I don't think I will be seeing any green faries, since absinthe is not on my menu. But I recall overmedicating once before. I had what everyone thought was a sinus infection from hell. (Before Dr. Callahan diagnosed that ugly little tumor we named Lurch.) I was taking antibiotics,pain meds, Nyquil and Benedryl. I was working 10 to 14 hours a day, and couldn't sleep because of the sinus problems. After about a week of this, I was driving home from Kim's, when I could have sworn I saw dolphins swimming beside my car, and Gumby was running in front of my car. Then I thought I ran over a pack of runners in a marathon. At 10 o'clock at night. It scared the everlivin piss outta me. I have been very careful about overmedicating since then. Until now.
Tonight could get very interesting...
Monday, May 9, 2011
Wanted: Missing Appendage
I sleep better now, when work allows me to sleep. But I have been restless, and it took until today to figure out why. I lost my left arm. Well, that's how it feels anyway. My life had developed a pattern, and now that pattern is not there anymore.
I actually have gone the past two days without my phone. I just kinda of left it in my car. And guess what I missed. In 2 days. One phone call. For someone that used to have a running conversation for over a year that lasted from waking until bedtime, this tells me a lot. No wonder I feel like I am missing my left arm. I miss my left arm, and I wish I had it back.
I used to talk to my left arm about everything. When I was having a bad day, my left arm could make me laugh. My left arm used to know when I needed cheering up, and when I needed to vent, and when it was best to just hang out there quietly on my side. I used to be there for my left arm too. If my left arm had a bad day, I would stop what I was doing and listen. We laughed together a lot, dreamed together, and shared a lot of the same passions and interests. But then my left arm got this tiny little scratch.
That little scratch wound up getting infected. It was a minor infection at first, nothing a little Neosporin couldn't have handled. But my left arm didn't want anything for it. I don't know if lefty thought it would just heal up on its own, or didn't care. The infection grew worse and worse. Finally I was forced to administer a massive antibiotic dose to my left arm, and it looked like things were slowly improving. My left arm and I were nowhere near what we used to be together, but I had confidence that with time, things would work out well. Of course, I was wrong.
My left arm and I suffered a relapse. It was awful, untreatable, and I wound up losing my left arm to gangrene. It was a very painful loss for me. It still is. I think they call them phantom pains, where you lose a limb, but still think you can feel it. I still feel my left arm, every day. And because I feel it, I keep looking for it, and am always shocked a little bit when it's not there. Maybe my left arm decided that it was better off without me. Maybe my left arm actually IS better off without me. I don't know. Because my left arm is unquestionably and irrevocably gone. But it doesn't stop my right arm from reaching for the phone, just to check and see....
I've been told that maybe I can get my left arm back, and while it will never be the same, maybe it will be better. Sort of like a bionic left arm. But I don't want that. I want my plain old left arm, that knows me better than I know myself, laughs with me, looks forward to hanging out with me, dreams of thunderstorms, deserted islands, and ways to torture my boss (which my left arm was absolutely grand at)and lets me know in a million little ways that hanging out there on my side is the place it wants to be. I don't want a new and improved left arm. No bionics for me.
My left arm really is gone. And I miss it.
I actually have gone the past two days without my phone. I just kinda of left it in my car. And guess what I missed. In 2 days. One phone call. For someone that used to have a running conversation for over a year that lasted from waking until bedtime, this tells me a lot. No wonder I feel like I am missing my left arm. I miss my left arm, and I wish I had it back.
I used to talk to my left arm about everything. When I was having a bad day, my left arm could make me laugh. My left arm used to know when I needed cheering up, and when I needed to vent, and when it was best to just hang out there quietly on my side. I used to be there for my left arm too. If my left arm had a bad day, I would stop what I was doing and listen. We laughed together a lot, dreamed together, and shared a lot of the same passions and interests. But then my left arm got this tiny little scratch.
That little scratch wound up getting infected. It was a minor infection at first, nothing a little Neosporin couldn't have handled. But my left arm didn't want anything for it. I don't know if lefty thought it would just heal up on its own, or didn't care. The infection grew worse and worse. Finally I was forced to administer a massive antibiotic dose to my left arm, and it looked like things were slowly improving. My left arm and I were nowhere near what we used to be together, but I had confidence that with time, things would work out well. Of course, I was wrong.
My left arm and I suffered a relapse. It was awful, untreatable, and I wound up losing my left arm to gangrene. It was a very painful loss for me. It still is. I think they call them phantom pains, where you lose a limb, but still think you can feel it. I still feel my left arm, every day. And because I feel it, I keep looking for it, and am always shocked a little bit when it's not there. Maybe my left arm decided that it was better off without me. Maybe my left arm actually IS better off without me. I don't know. Because my left arm is unquestionably and irrevocably gone. But it doesn't stop my right arm from reaching for the phone, just to check and see....
I've been told that maybe I can get my left arm back, and while it will never be the same, maybe it will be better. Sort of like a bionic left arm. But I don't want that. I want my plain old left arm, that knows me better than I know myself, laughs with me, looks forward to hanging out with me, dreams of thunderstorms, deserted islands, and ways to torture my boss (which my left arm was absolutely grand at)and lets me know in a million little ways that hanging out there on my side is the place it wants to be. I don't want a new and improved left arm. No bionics for me.
My left arm really is gone. And I miss it.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The paper aisle and the pumice effect
OK I have tried to NOT write about the shoppers at DG, but it's just built up to the point that I have to do it. Our store has been emptied of anything that might be considered a necessity. I mean, they even took the dust! So when our trucks came in today, we had miles of empty shelf space to fill. Anyone that has busted stock at DG knows that you put out paper as soon as it comes in. Toilet paper, paper towels, facial tissue, paper napkins, cups, bowls...this makes up the paper aisle. So there I was, working in the paper aisle, when I noticed that the older the customer, the more they window shop. I swear to you, every woman over the age of 40 that walked down that aisle had to stop at each individual 4 foot section and look at each and every type of paper there. They didn't actually buy any of it, mind you. They just looked.
OK I can understand things like paper plates, and maybe even facial tissue, as you flip through your mental rolodex and decide if you need it, want it, and can get it cheaper somewhere else. Where I got caught off guard was the toilet paper. Most people are brand-loyal when it comes to the old butt floss. I am a Charmin kind of a girl, myself. Soft but sturdy. No danger of it falling apart, causing a rash, or getting scratched from the occasional wood chip embedded in the cheaper papers, ya know? John Wayne I ain't. Today I watched person after person walk through and study each and every kind of toilet paper we had with fierce intent, only to stroll away without making a selection. What the hell? It made me wonder just exactly what they were looking for. Inspiration, for Christ sake? That's what they make laxatives for, and they are one the right hand center aisle, 12 feet down, 2nd shelf from the bottom, just above the Preparation H. Usually what inspires me to buy toilet paper is the knowledge that not a single day goes by that I don't need it, and I get a little worried when I get down to the last 4 rolls, because it's one of those items you just don't want to run out of.
The other thing about toilet paper shoppers that just boggles my mind is how many of them pick up a pack of toilet paper, only to discard it somewhere else in the store. Do you think you won't need it at some point?? Especially considering where you might find the discarded paper. Stuck on the shelf next to the dried prunes. Yep, you are going to regret that decision. Same for the pack left shoved behind the 3 pound bag of dried pinto beans. I think some people are just too dumb to get out their own door without a map and a guide. This leads me to the pumice effect.
Working in a retail store like DG will make you think things you never wanted to. I once found a double pack of douche stuck in the sugar. Would you like to tell me the thought process on that one? You're initial thought was that you needed that douche, and I would go with that thought. I can only imagine the woman that decided she needed sugar for her tea, and HEY! Maybe I can just brew up my own cooter cleanser, and sugar will give it that nice pumice effect. Sort of like lava soap, only with a better flavor. This was followed by a mental image of the trip to the gynecologist's office to get treated for fruit fly infestation. Or the conversation with her husband, "Look, honey, you want something this sweet, you just gonna have to put up with a few gnats!" Trust me ladies, go with the initial impulse. Buy the douche. Really.
Then there was the little old lady that walked up to my register a few months ago with three things in her little yellow shopping basket. She had a large jar of Vaseline, a tube of Preparation H, and one of those clip strip sample packs of His n hers KY jelly. My mind just screamed "LET ME PAINT YOU A PICTURE!" Her husband finally creeps up behind her, leaning heavily on his walker, breathing hard around the nasal cannula forcing oxygen into his lungs. I lost the ability to think for days after. I just don't want to go there.
Buy American, y'all!!
OK I can understand things like paper plates, and maybe even facial tissue, as you flip through your mental rolodex and decide if you need it, want it, and can get it cheaper somewhere else. Where I got caught off guard was the toilet paper. Most people are brand-loyal when it comes to the old butt floss. I am a Charmin kind of a girl, myself. Soft but sturdy. No danger of it falling apart, causing a rash, or getting scratched from the occasional wood chip embedded in the cheaper papers, ya know? John Wayne I ain't. Today I watched person after person walk through and study each and every kind of toilet paper we had with fierce intent, only to stroll away without making a selection. What the hell? It made me wonder just exactly what they were looking for. Inspiration, for Christ sake? That's what they make laxatives for, and they are one the right hand center aisle, 12 feet down, 2nd shelf from the bottom, just above the Preparation H. Usually what inspires me to buy toilet paper is the knowledge that not a single day goes by that I don't need it, and I get a little worried when I get down to the last 4 rolls, because it's one of those items you just don't want to run out of.
The other thing about toilet paper shoppers that just boggles my mind is how many of them pick up a pack of toilet paper, only to discard it somewhere else in the store. Do you think you won't need it at some point?? Especially considering where you might find the discarded paper. Stuck on the shelf next to the dried prunes. Yep, you are going to regret that decision. Same for the pack left shoved behind the 3 pound bag of dried pinto beans. I think some people are just too dumb to get out their own door without a map and a guide. This leads me to the pumice effect.
Working in a retail store like DG will make you think things you never wanted to. I once found a double pack of douche stuck in the sugar. Would you like to tell me the thought process on that one? You're initial thought was that you needed that douche, and I would go with that thought. I can only imagine the woman that decided she needed sugar for her tea, and HEY! Maybe I can just brew up my own cooter cleanser, and sugar will give it that nice pumice effect. Sort of like lava soap, only with a better flavor. This was followed by a mental image of the trip to the gynecologist's office to get treated for fruit fly infestation. Or the conversation with her husband, "Look, honey, you want something this sweet, you just gonna have to put up with a few gnats!" Trust me ladies, go with the initial impulse. Buy the douche. Really.
Then there was the little old lady that walked up to my register a few months ago with three things in her little yellow shopping basket. She had a large jar of Vaseline, a tube of Preparation H, and one of those clip strip sample packs of His n hers KY jelly. My mind just screamed "LET ME PAINT YOU A PICTURE!" Her husband finally creeps up behind her, leaning heavily on his walker, breathing hard around the nasal cannula forcing oxygen into his lungs. I lost the ability to think for days after. I just don't want to go there.
Buy American, y'all!!
Monday, May 2, 2011
It's impossible to pick up the clean end of a turd.
One of my Georgia Peaches thought this might make a good blog topic. I have to agree. It seems so appropriate considering the past few days. I saw myself through the eyes of my friends. Does that make sense? Let me explain. There has been a lot of drama flying around lately, and I keep getting blamed for it. I tried to avoid it, I tried to not get involved in it, but there I was. I was getting blasted for everything I said, everything I didn't say, everything I might have said, and everything it never even occurred to me to say. By today I had reached the limit of my very limited tolerance and decided that before I went to bed tonight, I was going to find, and kill, the drama llama. With extreme prejudice if necessary. Turns out it was necessary.
I talked to two people who had developed issues with me lately, just to get the story on WHY. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted all the facts. Not snarky emails, or self serving text messages. Just plain and simple tell me what the hell went on. Sadly, one person showed that he felt I deserved this by his hateful attitude to answering that simple request. He had the nerve to act put upon for me asking. He is so important and so busy and nothing could possibly be more important than what he is doing. But I still got my answers. All of them. The second person was at least civil, if not bordering on kind. But the belief that I was the bad guy still lingered with her as well. And it all led to the third party.
We spoke today, the third party and I, and after she finished accusing me of things which, once again, I did not do, had no knowledge of, and no part in, I decided it was high time to defend myself. Which I did, with the aforementioned extreme prejudice. The shoppers of Dollar General will never be the same, and I bet I get written up, if not fired, over it. But damn, enough is enough already. I got her point of view on why I was such a wicked person, told her what my part in her dilemma REALLY was, and continued to ferret out the truth. Stay with me, because I have to get REALLY convoluted and get on my soapbox here for a minute.
If you think that drinking yourself into a slobbering stupor hurts no one but you, and you don't feel any pain, then think again. Two friends were talking about all the tension lately, and speculating amongst themselves. A private conversation such as friends have all the time. Only one friend hurt the other when, in a drunken oblivion, he talked about the private conversation in a public way. Then, blamed me for the conversation to protect the other. And, I would be willing to bet my last dollar, promptly forgot all about it in the pursuit of even more alcohol. Talk about opening a can of worms.
Apologies were made today. Sadly, somehow, they will never understand it was the wrong apology. What hurts is that everyone was so ready to believe that I was guilty, they didn't stop to think I may be the one geting hurt. It never once occurred to anyone that I didn't do all they accused me of. The apology came after the fact, an "I'm sorry I accused you" apology, but not an "I'm sorry that I can't help having such a low opinion of you that I never stopped to think you might be innocent" apology. So yes, I have seen myself through my friends eyes. And it wasn't pretty.
Worse yet are the ones who will never even attempt an apology, believing themselves nnocent of any wrongdoing. They sat back and watched others villify me, and said nothing to defend me. When I tried to get to the bottom of it all, they got mad that I was bothering them with more drama. It didn't matter that I was trying to STOP the drama, or defend myself in any way. I was told today that sometimes silence is golden. That is true enough. And sometimes, just sometimes, it screams louder than the loudest noise. It says "You aren't important. You aren't worth the time it would take me to help you. I'm far too busy to be your friend. And I just don't want to be bothered."
How does this tie in to the title of this post, you ask? Simple. If you sling shit about someone, you may as well face the fact that you are going to get some of it on your hands. Nobody can find the clean end of the turd. Once the shit starts flying, everybody is going to get a little bit on them. Regardless of how mad, important, innocent, passive, or vindictive someone is, they are going to get a little of it on them. And this kind of shit doesn't wash off. It creates a permanent stain that stays with you forever.
I found the end of the drama today, and found peace with myself. I love, even now, the people that hurt me lately. But I love myself just a little bit more. And so I remove myself from the equation. I have a magic girl-bubble around me. I can disappear in plain sight. I will miss my friends, but knowing how they see me, I hope it will pass. Somebody else gets to try and find that clean end. I know it just doesn't exist.
I talked to two people who had developed issues with me lately, just to get the story on WHY. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted all the facts. Not snarky emails, or self serving text messages. Just plain and simple tell me what the hell went on. Sadly, one person showed that he felt I deserved this by his hateful attitude to answering that simple request. He had the nerve to act put upon for me asking. He is so important and so busy and nothing could possibly be more important than what he is doing. But I still got my answers. All of them. The second person was at least civil, if not bordering on kind. But the belief that I was the bad guy still lingered with her as well. And it all led to the third party.
We spoke today, the third party and I, and after she finished accusing me of things which, once again, I did not do, had no knowledge of, and no part in, I decided it was high time to defend myself. Which I did, with the aforementioned extreme prejudice. The shoppers of Dollar General will never be the same, and I bet I get written up, if not fired, over it. But damn, enough is enough already. I got her point of view on why I was such a wicked person, told her what my part in her dilemma REALLY was, and continued to ferret out the truth. Stay with me, because I have to get REALLY convoluted and get on my soapbox here for a minute.
If you think that drinking yourself into a slobbering stupor hurts no one but you, and you don't feel any pain, then think again. Two friends were talking about all the tension lately, and speculating amongst themselves. A private conversation such as friends have all the time. Only one friend hurt the other when, in a drunken oblivion, he talked about the private conversation in a public way. Then, blamed me for the conversation to protect the other. And, I would be willing to bet my last dollar, promptly forgot all about it in the pursuit of even more alcohol. Talk about opening a can of worms.
Apologies were made today. Sadly, somehow, they will never understand it was the wrong apology. What hurts is that everyone was so ready to believe that I was guilty, they didn't stop to think I may be the one geting hurt. It never once occurred to anyone that I didn't do all they accused me of. The apology came after the fact, an "I'm sorry I accused you" apology, but not an "I'm sorry that I can't help having such a low opinion of you that I never stopped to think you might be innocent" apology. So yes, I have seen myself through my friends eyes. And it wasn't pretty.
Worse yet are the ones who will never even attempt an apology, believing themselves nnocent of any wrongdoing. They sat back and watched others villify me, and said nothing to defend me. When I tried to get to the bottom of it all, they got mad that I was bothering them with more drama. It didn't matter that I was trying to STOP the drama, or defend myself in any way. I was told today that sometimes silence is golden. That is true enough. And sometimes, just sometimes, it screams louder than the loudest noise. It says "You aren't important. You aren't worth the time it would take me to help you. I'm far too busy to be your friend. And I just don't want to be bothered."
How does this tie in to the title of this post, you ask? Simple. If you sling shit about someone, you may as well face the fact that you are going to get some of it on your hands. Nobody can find the clean end of the turd. Once the shit starts flying, everybody is going to get a little bit on them. Regardless of how mad, important, innocent, passive, or vindictive someone is, they are going to get a little of it on them. And this kind of shit doesn't wash off. It creates a permanent stain that stays with you forever.
I found the end of the drama today, and found peace with myself. I love, even now, the people that hurt me lately. But I love myself just a little bit more. And so I remove myself from the equation. I have a magic girl-bubble around me. I can disappear in plain sight. I will miss my friends, but knowing how they see me, I hope it will pass. Somebody else gets to try and find that clean end. I know it just doesn't exist.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Can you feel the pain?
I sat down today, for the first time in days, to read the paper. The front page alone had me in tears. I read story after story of people that had lost everything. I read the list of fatalities confirmed thus far, many noting this this person or that had died at home with their spouse, or their children. I read stories of courage, generosity, and valor in the face of diversity. One of the volunteers is actually someone living in a shelter because he lost everything he owns when his home was leveled to the dirt. But every day he has been unloading trucks, hauling supplies, and taking care of others. Selflessness like this amazes me, and gives me a little more faith in my fellow man.
I hurt so much for all the suffering I see around me. I wish I could fix it but I don't know how. Even for one person, I don't know how. What can you say that will take that kind of pain away? I cannot even begin to imagine what they are having to handle, and I cannot comprehend how they are handling it. All I can do is feel the pain of helplessnes. I feel it to the very bottom of my soul. And I wonder, can you feel the pain too?
I hurt so much for all the suffering I see around me. I wish I could fix it but I don't know how. Even for one person, I don't know how. What can you say that will take that kind of pain away? I cannot even begin to imagine what they are having to handle, and I cannot comprehend how they are handling it. All I can do is feel the pain of helplessnes. I feel it to the very bottom of my soul. And I wonder, can you feel the pain too?
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Angels and Whores
I've said it before and I'll say it again. All men want to be married to an angel and have a whore in the bedroom. Men are shallow creatures, and not terribly bright. It's time to point out a few things to you. It is possible to have both in the same woman. Rare, but possible.
Of course, you do have to watch out for the fakes and posers. Just like women have to do. You can't turn a true whore into a housewife, and if she reminds you of dear old mom, she'll never be your whore in the bedroom. This is why afairs happen, you idiots. You look for something you aren't getting at home. You therefore, didn't find the perfect angel/whore combination. I see the look of confusion. Let me simplify things for you.
The Angel
This is the woman that all your friends are halfway in love with. She cooks, cleans, works, excels at every housewifely thing there possibly is. She can hang with the guys to watch the game, but has the sense to leave them alone for the all important guy-bonding time. She makes sure there is enough beer in the fridge, and food readily available, then retires to another area and leaves you to it. She makes sure you are well taken care of, smiles and bites her tongue at the snarky mother-in-law input, doesn't try to set your single friends up with her single friends, and stays out of guy arguements. She makes other men want her, but never ever leads them to think the could have her. She can throw a dinner party, or a beer bash with equal finesse, manages to still look good in her grubbies, blah blah blah. You know what kind of angel you want.
The Whore
This is the woman that only you know. This woman has no qualms about wearing a pair of red heels and a smile to greet you when you come home from work. This woman waits for you to sit down and relax, and then crawls onto your lap and lets you know in no uncertain terms that you will be having wild white hot sex within minutes. This woman gets hers, and if you enjoy it too, well hey, BONUS! I could go into more detail but I am attempting a PG rating here. But I think you get my point.
The Perfect Combination
This is the woman that the public sees and envies, and you are proud to show her off at every chance. She makes all your friends' relationships look hopeless. She can be so adorable that you are able to overlook her irritating qualities. Because you also know that when you get her home, she is going to rock your world. It's her idea to push you flat on your back and wear you out. It's her idea to fulfill one of your fantasies as a surprise when you've had a really bad day. If she ever says no, she's got a damn good reason, and it's not that you didn't buy her a new car, or you didn't take out the trash, or as punishment for any other lame ass reason. Usually no involves the flu, utter exhaustion, PMS, PMDD, a trip to the ER, or the fact that YOUR mother has a glass pressed to the guest room wall, trying to eavesdrop.
Oh sure, you will have disagreements. Even some knock down drag outs. But it all works out because you just don't want to fight with anyone else. It's not that she is actually so perfect, but that she is willing to share a side of herself with you that no one else gets to see. But it has to be a TRUE side of her, and not a pose.
Fakes and Posers
I can clear this up pretty quickly. Ever wanted to have a threesome, and your woman agrees? Well here ya go...if at any time during said threesome, she ever looked to see how you were reacting, she's a poser. If she ever claimed that it didn't bother her to see you with the third woman, she's a lying fake. She means well, but she is trying to manipulate you into believing she is something she's not. She thinks that this will keep you together. It won't, because subconsciously you noticed what I just pointed out. Then you get to pay for it. Usually it comes out that she "only did it for you!" And naturally, she didn't enjoy one minute of it.
Yes, we are rare creatures. We are woman enough to know that men love two things. Securty and variety. If we have a threesome, we know that you men will love watching a fantasy fulfilled, but if we are taking care of you, you won't be interested in touching the other woman. You'll enjoy watching them, but you only want her. We know that you will be proud as hell that every man you know wants what you have, but it won't occur to us to take any of them up on the offer. We are woman enough to let you go if thats what you want. (But once we let you go, you don't get to come back. And you will want to. You always do.) We don't settle. We give you all of ourselves out of the love and feeling we have for YOU. We don't care if others don't see it, or understand it. We know what it is all about and that's all that matters. Rare? Yes. Mythical? No. Most men stopped believing in us, but we're still out there. Sometimes, we are discovered, and then the men that didn't believe, well, they fall in love with their best friend's wife...so men, take a good long look at what you have, what you want, and what you threwaway. Then look at your friends. Bet it'll open your eyes!
Of course, you do have to watch out for the fakes and posers. Just like women have to do. You can't turn a true whore into a housewife, and if she reminds you of dear old mom, she'll never be your whore in the bedroom. This is why afairs happen, you idiots. You look for something you aren't getting at home. You therefore, didn't find the perfect angel/whore combination. I see the look of confusion. Let me simplify things for you.
The Angel
This is the woman that all your friends are halfway in love with. She cooks, cleans, works, excels at every housewifely thing there possibly is. She can hang with the guys to watch the game, but has the sense to leave them alone for the all important guy-bonding time. She makes sure there is enough beer in the fridge, and food readily available, then retires to another area and leaves you to it. She makes sure you are well taken care of, smiles and bites her tongue at the snarky mother-in-law input, doesn't try to set your single friends up with her single friends, and stays out of guy arguements. She makes other men want her, but never ever leads them to think the could have her. She can throw a dinner party, or a beer bash with equal finesse, manages to still look good in her grubbies, blah blah blah. You know what kind of angel you want.
The Whore
This is the woman that only you know. This woman has no qualms about wearing a pair of red heels and a smile to greet you when you come home from work. This woman waits for you to sit down and relax, and then crawls onto your lap and lets you know in no uncertain terms that you will be having wild white hot sex within minutes. This woman gets hers, and if you enjoy it too, well hey, BONUS! I could go into more detail but I am attempting a PG rating here. But I think you get my point.
The Perfect Combination
This is the woman that the public sees and envies, and you are proud to show her off at every chance. She makes all your friends' relationships look hopeless. She can be so adorable that you are able to overlook her irritating qualities. Because you also know that when you get her home, she is going to rock your world. It's her idea to push you flat on your back and wear you out. It's her idea to fulfill one of your fantasies as a surprise when you've had a really bad day. If she ever says no, she's got a damn good reason, and it's not that you didn't buy her a new car, or you didn't take out the trash, or as punishment for any other lame ass reason. Usually no involves the flu, utter exhaustion, PMS, PMDD, a trip to the ER, or the fact that YOUR mother has a glass pressed to the guest room wall, trying to eavesdrop.
Oh sure, you will have disagreements. Even some knock down drag outs. But it all works out because you just don't want to fight with anyone else. It's not that she is actually so perfect, but that she is willing to share a side of herself with you that no one else gets to see. But it has to be a TRUE side of her, and not a pose.
Fakes and Posers
I can clear this up pretty quickly. Ever wanted to have a threesome, and your woman agrees? Well here ya go...if at any time during said threesome, she ever looked to see how you were reacting, she's a poser. If she ever claimed that it didn't bother her to see you with the third woman, she's a lying fake. She means well, but she is trying to manipulate you into believing she is something she's not. She thinks that this will keep you together. It won't, because subconsciously you noticed what I just pointed out. Then you get to pay for it. Usually it comes out that she "only did it for you!" And naturally, she didn't enjoy one minute of it.
Yes, we are rare creatures. We are woman enough to know that men love two things. Securty and variety. If we have a threesome, we know that you men will love watching a fantasy fulfilled, but if we are taking care of you, you won't be interested in touching the other woman. You'll enjoy watching them, but you only want her. We know that you will be proud as hell that every man you know wants what you have, but it won't occur to us to take any of them up on the offer. We are woman enough to let you go if thats what you want. (But once we let you go, you don't get to come back. And you will want to. You always do.) We don't settle. We give you all of ourselves out of the love and feeling we have for YOU. We don't care if others don't see it, or understand it. We know what it is all about and that's all that matters. Rare? Yes. Mythical? No. Most men stopped believing in us, but we're still out there. Sometimes, we are discovered, and then the men that didn't believe, well, they fall in love with their best friend's wife...so men, take a good long look at what you have, what you want, and what you threwaway. Then look at your friends. Bet it'll open your eyes!
20 things you don't know about me
I have so many people that think they know me, who I am, what I stand for. They don't. Not at all actually. If you want to really get to know me, start with this...
#1. I am a very private person, moreso now than even 3 months ago, so telling you 19 more things is going to be very hard.
#2. I love horror movies, but not gross out movies. The Saw movies are gross out movies.
#3. My friends have now, out of necessity, become my aquaintances.
#4. I enjoy being female, but I detest being girly.
(This is a lot harder than I thought it would be)
#5. I have become a consummate actress, and I promise, you have no idea what I am actually thinking.
#6. I have cried myself to sleep, and pretended the next day that I couln't be happier.
#7. My children are the single most important thing in my life. Anytime I have tried to add a person to that, I fail miserably.
#8. I am not religious, but I am very spiritual.
#9. I have lousy judgement when it comes to relationships, both intimate and platonic. I suffer the Pollyanna complex, and hate to believe that people I trust and love could be anything other than perfect.
#10. I am a hopeless romantic. I love holding hands, moonlit strolls on the beach, cuddling by the fire, all the cheesy hallmark stuff.
(halfway there, and it's only taken me 40 minutes so far)
#11. I am a creature of habit most of the time, so when I break my habit, it tends to upset those around me.
#12. I believe in love, but it's not something I will let myself feel anymore.
#13. I have no patience for drama. When I am feeling dramatic myself, I tend to push peole away and shut down. When this happens, let me.
#14. I adore dark chocolate, and have for years. No candy fads for me!
#15. I enjoy dressing up nicely. After years and years in uniforms, dressing is a nice change.
#16. I have extremely expensive taste, even though I can no longer afford to have it. It's one of the habits I have yet to overcome.
#17. I love high heels. Ok, so maybe you do know that about me, but being open about 20 things is really really hard. So I fudged a little.
#18. I am upset when I walk into a store and have to find the english translation for the hispanic signs.
#19. I don't do casual sex. It makes me feel sleazy and scummy. I think I am worth more than that.
#20. My favorite color is like my eyes. It changes with my mood. Currently I have 3 which are black, blood red, and dark green.
This was actually pretty hard for me to do. Once I realized that it's better to not discuss work or anything at all with co-workers, and it's better to keep my private life private, even from my closest friends, I realized that I am very limited on what I am comfortable saying for public consumption.
Some people are an open book, and it works out well for them. For me, sharing my thoughts and ideas, hopes, dreams, and secrets cost me more than I was willing to pay. So when you think you really know me, think again. I promise you don't.
#1. I am a very private person, moreso now than even 3 months ago, so telling you 19 more things is going to be very hard.
#2. I love horror movies, but not gross out movies. The Saw movies are gross out movies.
#3. My friends have now, out of necessity, become my aquaintances.
#4. I enjoy being female, but I detest being girly.
(This is a lot harder than I thought it would be)
#5. I have become a consummate actress, and I promise, you have no idea what I am actually thinking.
#6. I have cried myself to sleep, and pretended the next day that I couln't be happier.
#7. My children are the single most important thing in my life. Anytime I have tried to add a person to that, I fail miserably.
#8. I am not religious, but I am very spiritual.
#9. I have lousy judgement when it comes to relationships, both intimate and platonic. I suffer the Pollyanna complex, and hate to believe that people I trust and love could be anything other than perfect.
#10. I am a hopeless romantic. I love holding hands, moonlit strolls on the beach, cuddling by the fire, all the cheesy hallmark stuff.
(halfway there, and it's only taken me 40 minutes so far)
#11. I am a creature of habit most of the time, so when I break my habit, it tends to upset those around me.
#12. I believe in love, but it's not something I will let myself feel anymore.
#13. I have no patience for drama. When I am feeling dramatic myself, I tend to push peole away and shut down. When this happens, let me.
#14. I adore dark chocolate, and have for years. No candy fads for me!
#15. I enjoy dressing up nicely. After years and years in uniforms, dressing is a nice change.
#16. I have extremely expensive taste, even though I can no longer afford to have it. It's one of the habits I have yet to overcome.
#17. I love high heels. Ok, so maybe you do know that about me, but being open about 20 things is really really hard. So I fudged a little.
#18. I am upset when I walk into a store and have to find the english translation for the hispanic signs.
#19. I don't do casual sex. It makes me feel sleazy and scummy. I think I am worth more than that.
#20. My favorite color is like my eyes. It changes with my mood. Currently I have 3 which are black, blood red, and dark green.
This was actually pretty hard for me to do. Once I realized that it's better to not discuss work or anything at all with co-workers, and it's better to keep my private life private, even from my closest friends, I realized that I am very limited on what I am comfortable saying for public consumption.
Some people are an open book, and it works out well for them. For me, sharing my thoughts and ideas, hopes, dreams, and secrets cost me more than I was willing to pay. So when you think you really know me, think again. I promise you don't.
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