Divorce: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I’ve decided that Divorce is the gift that keeps on giving, instead of the thing that cut me off at the knees, leaving a barrage of scars. But getting here was a long haul.

And, I’m not saying that in a snarky or sarcastic tone, really.

Since my divorce, I have learned so many new things and am energized and excited in ways I never thought possible, especially at the beginning.  I have updated my resume (this seems easy until you consider my college roommate. She found her most recent resume on a floppy disc), interviewed for many jobs and am on job three post-divorce. I have made new friends, met new people, and learned new things. During my eight days at job number one, I found my lip gloss soulmate (it’s a thing) and learned how to use two monitors. During job number two,  I found new restaurants, stores, and deeper appreciation for cultural differences. Job number three led to my illustrious writing career and without it, you wouldn’t be reading this.

I used to want to stay home every night and watch tv. I still like doing that (way more than I should) but, looking back on my marriage (dinner, watch favorite shows, costco on saturday) that now feels like waiting for my turn to die. Now, I am writing, hanging with friends, finding new things to do. I used to want us to agree on all of our kid-related decisions. We didn’t. Still don’t. But, now I know that we won’t always agree and there is nothing I can do about it. So, I do my thing and he can do his. I have peace.

We had a lot of money. A lot of money. Now, I don’t have a lot of money. I learned how to do more with less, building better relationships with my kids in the process. And, teaching them you don’t need money to enjoy things and you don’t have to be in the front row to enjoy the show.  I’m not arguing that money doesn’t make things more fun, but fun can be had without. I am not necessarily materialistic, but I loved my home and my really nice car. Now, I am free as a bird, not defined by what I drive or where I live. Plus, I’ve learned to find joy and calm even when things are tight.

Before, I wanted my friends and their husbands to like us and want to hang out with us. We had some like that. But, now I have found that I can choose (and choose, I do) who I hang out with and what I do. Much easier and no stress. What can suck about only spending time with the people you choose?

What used to be a loss of all of my holidays has given me the permission to do different things, to make or break traditions. I spent one Thanksgiving or Christmas at the movies. Not crowded. Especially the chick flicks. The theater was filled with men and kids. Which only served to remind me; you don’t have to do all that work, spend all that money, while the ingrates go to the movies. And, you don’t have to spend time with his relatives, especially the assholey ones. Traditions are important, but we have made it our tradition to be flexible and try new things. Instead of making all of the decisions, we make decisions together. While that is more “friendy” than “parenty,” we all enjoy doing the things that we choose to do together.

While I was married, I was worried about my future for a variety of reasons. Now I have a plan for my future that excites me so, I cannot wait to retire. This divorce has given me the opportunity to live a second chapter, or start a whole new book. It has given me strength I never knew I had. It has given me new friends. It has given me new traditions and happier holidays. It has taught me I am creative and flexible and smart. It has given me freedom and joy. It has taught me a lot about parenting. I don’t know if I am a better parent, but I am a different one. I have always been open minded, but now I am not just open, I am receptive to new things.

The most surprising thing, though, is how this experience has enriched my children’s relationships with their parents. In my home, we spend almost all of our time together. If we watch television, we do it together. If we go to the movies, shopping, out to eat, we do it together. We take short road trips and go on local “adventures.” I try not to make other plans, waste time online, or talk on the phone when my kids are home and we are together. While divorce may make it easier to “play” us, it also makes it more difficult to have a favorite parent. I am not sure if this better, but I know if we were married, the relationship would be primary.

While all of these things are true, they are not reasons to divorce. I think it is way better for families to stay together. When that isn’t possible, you need to go through it. It sucks a lot of the time, but some moments of joy seep through. Everyday, I find reasons why divorce keeps giving me presents. And, I am thankful. It wasn’t easy and I had to choose happiness – something that is more difficult than it sounds.

The best thing…divorce has turned me into a perfect girlfriend; I don’t ever want to get married again and I don’t care about money.

I am totally free.

I Saw My X on the Jumbotron

I saw my X on the Jumbotron at the Nickelback (don’t hate) show I recently attended.  I saw him from 5 miles away on the lawn, where my seats were.  Yes. Yes. Yes, folks, here comes the “Inequality of Divorce” blog.  Well, it is that and so much more. A few nights ago, as I sat under a beautiful full moon and was cooled by our “delta breeze”, with 3 other divorced women, I looked up to see the unpleasantly charming face of my X on the gigantic screen, indicating to me that he was in the 2nd or 3rd row from the stage. Wow!  I was looking for my son, who won the toss and got to sit with dad during the show.  Sister was hanging in the cheap seats on a blanket with 4 old ladies. (It is okay, she rocked her little heart out!).

Some of you may be wondering how we all ended up at the same show.  Well, this is the first time that has happened in the many years since we split. I got tickets because kids were with their dad that night and it was a school night. I didn’t figure I would run into any of them there.  And, then kids asked to stay with me because dad was going to the show. And, then I gave dad a hard time about ditching his kids to attend his son’s favorite band’s show. And, then dad didn’t want to look like a douche, so he ponied up some lawn seats for the kids, so they could sit with me. I offered to take his good tickets (I had no idea how good they were at the time) so he could sit with his kids, he declined (yes, I try to be funny – all of the time). He also couldn’t get a date (even with great seats) and so “the toss” for the good seat.

I would like to start of by saying I am not bitter. Really. I am better. Way better.  I will abbreviate for you, after 7 miserable years, 10 + court days and tens of thousands of dollars, the court set us “even.”  We still are, according to the courts.  I will spare you so many ridiculous details and sum up our differences this way, how is it that he can afford 2nd row seats and I feel “lucky” to be able to afford the $20 lawn seats? This is really the best way to show our divide.  We are not even financially.  We never will be. Every single one of my divorced friends is in a worse place financially since her divorce.  All but one of these friends is in a worse place financially than her husband.  And, the one? She is in the worst place, she pays him support – spousal and child while he works under the table for cash.  She is a school teacher. He and his live-in gf have a new baby (really, Karma has already visited him) and live in her former 4000 sq foot home.  She lives in a 1400 sq ft rental.

I was lucky. I had fantastic family and friends for financial and emotional support. So many women don’t.  I know two are better than one and can leave cheaper together than individually but, in that case both should take a hit when the marriage is over.  And, maybe both do.  I mean, I could be biased.  But, we are still not “even.” To be fair, I am leaps ahead of him in the categories that matter to me anyway, peace, happiness, and love. I enjoyed that money when I was with him. But, I enjoy so much more now. Because he isn’t there.  It just pisses me off 8 ways from Sunday that women are the bigger “financial” losers in divorce situations.  And, I don’t know how to fix it.

Do men and women cope differently? I was taking huge financial hits when I was losing everything else in my life: family, holidays, blah, blah. I had to recreate a whole new me. It just seems to be more difficult to deal with adversity when you are an emotional mess and have no idea how you are going to pay all of your bills this month. All a guy has to do is sleep with someone else and he is good…..

My Childhood is a Liar

My childhood was a lie. A big fat lie. Like a lot of kids, I couldn’t wait to grow up. I couldn’t wait to get away from my parents. I couldn’t wait to make all of my own decisions. What happened to the “doing what I want when I want how I want and where I want” adulthood I couldn’t wait to get to?  What happened to that? My childhood was a big fat liar.

I’ve gone on and on about a lot of things that are surprising as we age. Well, I was surprised, anyway.  If last year was the year of children related horrors, this year is shaping up to have a completely different focus.

One of my best friends and favorite people lost her mom last week. She held her hand and loved her until she slowly slipped away. I kept her company with daily texts and support as she was there for me when my mom died. She also remembers the tiny shit show that happened after. We were going to get together at my favorite wine bar a few days ago and raise a glass to our parents and share memories. She had to bail as she had funeral arrangements to handle. I called another friend. When she arrived, she announced she had just come from her Stepdad’s funeral. We spent the evening discussing her trials. Then this morning, another close friend has lost a parent.

This is another ugly chapter in adulthood. While I can usually find the silver lining, it kind of sucks. You spend all this time growing up, getting a job, getting married, building a family, getting a divorce, building a new life and you are just about to enjoy your adulthood, when all hell breaks loose.  I was making plans for a fun retirement, and I may be caught up in a few things that will impede that fun. And, chances are, by the time I am done with all of that…I will be ready to attend the funeral I have already picked the music for. Yes, I have really chosen the music for my memorial/party, whatever. Have you heard some of the crap that plays at funerals?  If I hear Bette sing about being a bird again, I might lose it. And, while some of the other traditional songs are beautiful, they are just not my style. Besides, why on earth would I want the same songs from everybody else’s funeral?

My dad’s health is failing and his memory is going, going, almost gone. He has lost his will, I think and that is the hardest thing for me. Who can blame him, he has no siblings left and most of his friends are gone? His closest relative is his cousin and both are in such poor health, it is unlikely they will see each other again. He is in constant pain and spends many hours “doctoring.” He no longer resembles that Dad I had, physically or mentally. I’ve been grieving him a little bit for a long time. I’m completely okay with his decisions and plans. And, if he is ready to go, I must let him. He has taught me so many things in life, I guess now he is teaching me to die. Even though some of the best lessons he taught me are how to live.

I know this is a normal occurrence. I do. Your parents should die first. I am lucky to have had my dad for so long. But, now is the ugly stuff: dying, death, funerals, wills, estate settling, and a long (hopefully) future without any parents. I have never been “Daddy’s little girl.” I wasn’t spoiled like that. But, we have spent most of my adulthood very close. Who will I call when I don’t know what to do? The tears just started…so, done with this line of thought.

So many things have turned out be be lies. Next, I suppose, you will tell me that my face won’t freeze that way and I can get sick from not wearing a coat. 

I have started 20 blogs about the last few weeks. But, I can’t seem to get everything organised. So, I’m just going to throw out there where I am. And, oh yeah, I need an assistant.

You Have Arrived!

Today, I found my answer to the question, “What do you do?”  My answer now is: “I use Google Maps everywhere I go because when I reach my destination, Google maps says, ‘you have arrived””

I love that! I have arrived. I love hearing it and it makes my day. Simple girl, I know.

And it solves my issue of whether or not to respond with my boring job or my exciting, fun erotica job.  I mean, really, why should anyone get all the good stuff in the first few minutes? They should have to work for that shit.  

When I thought of that last line, it amused me, so I left it. But, now that I think about it, I have changed some things in my experienced years. I no longer treat each new person I meet as a friend. I treat them like a potential friend. While this may be second nature for some, it is a new skill for me. I really pay attention to who is asking me questions, what types of questions they are asking, and how they respond to my answers.  I have learned a ton. 

A few weeks ago, I was in one of my local haunts when the bouncer (younger, hot, studly) approached me to compliment me on my outfit. I have known him for years, he is always pleasant and calm.  We have never exchanged names or numbers, but we have said hello.  And, the one time Jamie (partner in crime) decided to bring her own alcohol, he was very nice.  She had it in an opaque water bottle. She, like me, hates being invisible and waiting to get served. If I’m going to take my own alcohol, though, I would drink it in the bathroom. Or in the car.  Not Jamie. It was hot. And she thought we could stand 3 feet to the right of the door and that would be okay. I was trying to subtly tell her this was not okay when Younger, Hot, Stud walks over and says, “Ladies. C’mon. Really?”  She acted dumb and I just stood there wishing I had a beer.  He gave her a little lesson about where to drink her alcohol and never one time said anything like, “at your age…” And, you should know, Jamie is no fool. She finished her drink while he was being polite.

I was shocked at the compliment, though, as he had never done this before. Even my PIC looked up from her phone. I thanked him and he got called to duty. You know, drunk people aren’t the most responsible group.

About 10 minutes go by and he circles back. And, he says to me, “I’m sorry. I got called away while you were answering me. What were you saying?”

What? I can honestly say I cannot remember anyone ever doing that to me before. I sure noticed. I am looking forward to our next trip to that place and hope to raise a little cain while I am there. (wink, wink, Jamie)

I am used to being ignored. But, not only was I not invisible in this instance, I was center stage.  My “Invisible” blog generated a slew of emotions in my readers. So many who feel like me.  Invisible.

It seems like the universe has been telling me for a long time……why you gotta make things so difficult?  So, I’m not. Just like I have said before. After today I am through running after things. The ice cream man can go fuck himself.  Okay. I didn’t say it originally. But, it’s funny. Really, though. I’m done.  I’m done being sad I don’t get to hang out with my friends as much as I would like, so I’m making new friends. I’m done worrying about my teenagers hating me – they are supposed to and, to be fair, sometimes the feeling is mutual. I’m done talking to people who don’t listen. I could go on and on…but, do you get my point?  I am going to be interested in the people who are interested in me. I am going to do the things that I love with people who love it too. I quit caring what people think years ago. Now, I choose to do what is easy.

So, not only did I let go of something else, I moved forward in another direction. Not only is it easy, it doesn’t rob me of any joy. So, happy marches on. And, I don’t feel invisible anymore. If you don’t see me, I will find more who will.

Back In My Day

When I was growing up……oh how I hated to hear the stories that started with those words when I was younger,  but love to tell them now that I am older.  Of course, my stories are interesting and funny. A long, long time ago, (Pie) when I was younger, straight up –  I fucking hated, fucking hated it every single damn time some old fuck (over 22) said that to me in my youth.  Fucking hated it!  Yet, I cannot stop myself.  I say it almost every day. I am obsessed with getting older. I talk about it (and write about it, yeah, yeah) all the fucking time. And I utter that phrase every dang day.  Why?  I tell myself it is because I am teaching my kids something, leaving them with something for posterity.  I know, I am delusional.  My kids fucking hate it too.

When I was growing up, there was only Rock and Hard Rock.  Somewhere around high school, there was Metal (thanks Iron Maiden and Motorhead, just to name a few).  But, maybe the genre wasn’t so well fleshed out then (or maybe I was still listening to Styx). We called things “Acid Rock.”  Then there was Grunge, which I think we all know, I don’t like talking about.  Because it killed metal (see I Had a Plan Blog). Then, there was only Classic Rock, because that is all I listened to while boycotting grunge and local rock radio.  

When I finally pulled my head out, I found new bands and discovered that many of my favorite 80’s bands were being described as Hair Metal (our local rock station played a throwback Thursday set, calling it ”The Aqua Net Set”, hilarious and genius). This is a description that didn’t bother me, obviously.  But, I think it got to a lot of  those “long hairs” who spend way more time doing their hair than I do.  Hurt some of their little feelings.  Fine. Could be the reason why all the other genres started to bubble to the surface. While I just made that up on the spot, trying to be funny. I wonder, I am probably correct.

I talk a lot of smack about musicians, local as well as famous. Truth is, I love them. I admire their commitment to what they do (except for those tribute band motherfuckers, don’t even get me started on those guys). I admire their drive, their talent, their mile high confidence level – even with no talent. Talented or not, these guys work their asses off (another blog). And, thanks to Behind the Music (bring back that show, please), we all know what happens to the professionals. And these guys, when they come down, they’ve got nowhere to go. They are not happy unless they are performing.

So, now we have Symphonic Metal, Death Metal, (it is here that I had to Google as I was out of metals). There is black (?) metal, Christian, and many more sub-genres that are weird and I am not sure I buy into them. Mostly because I didn’t get to name them.  We are finally getting to the point, really.

I recently found William Control whom I will describe as a Disco Metal group. Wait, wait, take a deep breath and let me explain.  It isn’t quite metal, different from symphonic, not quite dance.  Like Flock of Seagulls meets Metallica  or disco meets metal.  Which sounds impossibly disgusting (and okay, off the top of my head, 3 of my friends would insist it was impossibly disgusting. By the way, they are boys. And as soon as I tell them what he sings about – yeah, then they will be in).  William Control does the seemingly impossible – stripping all of the irritating out of disco, leaving all of the fun and all the stuff that  makes you want to shake your hips. And it is delightfully easy to dance to. And, did I  mention, fun?  And, a little confusing. I didn’t know if I should bang my head or dance so, you know, I looked like an idiot. The synth/keyboard isn’t as irritating when the music makes you want to head bang and dance. Disco may have sucked, but it sure gets your hips going. I listen to WC, and, instantly my mood  improves. Could be the hip shaking head banging beat or the naughty, naughty lyrics. Don’t know.  

They are my new favorite happy music, horrible lyrics band. Here is another crashing moment, how to describe the lyrics or “schtick” of the band, so to speak?  A dark and sexy place. You will have to investigate the rest.

We attended Vans Warped Tour experience and, I have written about it. But, I have been saving this for the right time. Plus, occasionally I write these things for hours. In this case, though, I wanted to give the band justice.  They are dynamite live. Their keyboard player, is a phenomenal performer and I watched him the entire time, so I am unable to describe the others, which I think is hilarious.  But, I danced. We all danced. Everyone danced and when I looked around, smiles everywhere.

But, what did I know? I listened to Styx. They were going to play at my first wedding. The one I was going to have until I discovered Motley Crue and Harleys.

P.S. William Control has decided to stop touring/performing and is producing and collaborating on other projects. Once again, late to the fucking party! Of course.

Happy New Year, 2018!

A year ago my blog was about how my musical childhood was dying and how so many of my heroes were lost in 2015 and 2016. 2017 took my number one longtime hero.  I have only one friend I have known longer than Tom Petty. That hurt. Deeply. Still does. It just seems weird to me to be in a world where I’m never going to see him perform live again.

Rereading that new years blog I’m amused to notice platitudes are my favorite thing to use, next to song lyrics, in speech. I notice with amusement that I spoke of not hating 2016. Funny. Can’t imagine I would say anything like that now. The notion that I might hate a year is weird. Maybe because I’ve crested over the top.

If 2016 was the year the music died, then 2017 was the year of shit that didn’t get done. Things that didn’t get done: the yard, the beach house for a week in the summer, 1st day of school photos and last day of school photos, didn’t buy school photos, didn’t train the dogs, didn’t decorate for any holiday…although, we did put Christmas tree up and the boxes in hallway, didn’t get my first blog out until the 12th, didn’t finish painting my room, didn’t get my life together and organised, didn’t completely clean out garage, didn’t get a new job, didn’t find a man, didn’t spend more time with friends. So many things did not get done.

2017 was also the year I started to let shit go. To be fair, even before 2017, I had become Queen of Letting Things Go. But, even I, held on to some shit. To rephrase, 2017 was the year I let go of anything else I was so tightly clutching. My new spirit of change says, “who cares what I let go or what I didn’t do? Let’s focus on what I did. (“I do not want what I haven’t got,” isn’t just a song title.)  

2017 is the first year where I really made a new year’s resolution. The resolution wasn’t intentional. I was at a point in my life where I needed to pursue one thing at a time. I was getting overwhelmed at the sheer thought of what I had on my plate. Being a single parent of limited means, my everyday life was already daunting as hell. I decided to pursue the “job” that would get me what I wanted/needed. For the first time in my life I had actually sat down and put my dream to paper. (For the purists out there, I actually ‘wrote’ my resolution by pressing keys on my iPad. I know how you writers are.) I put my dream of pursuing writing as a career and life choice as my #1 goal. I put everything else related to life choice, career, or job goal on the back burner until 2018. I determined what the many versions of success looked like. I broke down the goal into bite sized chunks and made a detailed list of what I needed to do and by when. I also spent some time, about once a month, to evaluate where I was and how the goals/list were going.  This step had seemed boring to me in the past, but it was now more energizing than the goal. I could really do this.

And, I was having such a great time doing it. Until I had to wrestle with arthritis. And, in late July I was greeted with an opportunity to pen and publish a true crime book! So, now it looked like I was going to have to put one dream on hold to do what? Something I didn’t want to do? Many blogs in the future will be devoted to “that process.” I wrestled with that decision so long, I put it’s own purpose at risk. Somewhere around the first week of December, I took inventory again.

I had achieved half of my list. It was the easiest, least important part. So the fuck what? I had achieved half of my list, I had written and published through an indie publisher (now I was self and indie published), I had collaborated on a book, I had built a potentially lucrative future for that book genre, I had something I had written for fun performed for a huge audience, I had reached top 15 in a book genre on Amazon, I had made new contacts regarding my goals, I had determined my retirement plan, I started to make changes in direction due to arthritis, I’ve accepted that diagnosis. Every single area of my life showed growth and improvement. I had a fantastic year. I accomplished so much. And, as I keep saying (ad naseum, I know) I have never been happier.

On a lark, I reached out to someone who appeared to need a little cheerleader in their corner. Next thing I know, she is going to help me finish my list! Probably so I could meet my goal in January or February!  And, by reaching out to her and working with her, I am taking steps to achieve the biggest dream I have. WOW! Amazing.

2017 was the year that I learned that in letting go, I would gain beyond measure. I finally let go of who and what my future must look like. I have a general purpose and direction and a list of goals, but I am keeping it fluid. I was so rigid in my erotica book goals, that I almost missed one of the two best opportunities I had this year. I was so rigid in whom I was looking for, that I couldn’t be open to find the one.

So…no new year’s resolutions this year, just a “to-do list”  which really turned into a “see in the future” psychic thing. In the next three months, I am going to meet or begin the relationship that is “the one” for me. I don’t know if I have met him yet, but he is on his way. I am going to get everything organised and get on top of everything in my life. I am halfway there already after last year.  I am going to be well on my way to selecting a retirement date by the end of this year. My life is going to continue to change for the better. I absolutely know it.

I was going to blog about that woman who returned her tree to Costco…..not sure which would have been more entertaining.

One Gigantic Dick

I’m way behind on my blogs and most other things in my life. But, I’m so exhausted….I’m almost ready to have those fantasies of being put into the hospital for exhaustion…..almost….but, not quite. And some people find time for that creepy little elf on a shelf.

So, you know, I gotta be motivated. I have tens of blogs waiting to be finished for publication, but I really am going to need to be motivated to rise above all of my exhaustion and whining. Plus, the teenage pit viper my son and I live with, doesn’t like me again. This time I’m a “liar”. Is that a step up or a step down from “lazy”? I can’t keep up with all the teenager slang. So, I could have written teenagers are assholes #2….but, that isn’t much fun.

And then….my friend, and fellow author, Terri George posted this: see big painted dick here .

I immediately replied to her…that this is how my blogs write themselves. “Enormous Penis Pops up” in New York. I mean, how fun is that already?  From the headline, I can see that an artist has painted this 4-story pink love gun on a building in New York.  So, I look. Wow! It is pretty big. Is it art? I don’t know and I am not sure I even care. Because already, these thoughts “pop up” in my head:

  1. Without balls, just looks weird.
  2. Way too much pink…I haven’t seen that much since the pit viper was 5
  3. Talk about penis envy.
  4. Why does it appear hard instead of limp?
  5. I need better photos.
  6. They painted over it already?
  7. Is this a joke? Is this a dick joke? Is this a limp dick joke?
  8. Do you need one, have one, or are you one?
  9. Really….why don’t you have any balls?
  10. This artist normally paints vaginas but, thought she would mix it up..
  11. The article calls the artist “cocky.” (You will also see: erect, member, etc.)

Seriously….I could just sit here and write the blogs that write themselves all day. I don’t even have to go looking for material. It is fucking everywhere. An enormous penis painted on a wall in New York. I meant what the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me? Why? Not “why not?”, WHY? What is the point? To shock? C’mon….Madonna already wears the crown of “shock by cock.”  This seems original but, it really isn’t. I wouldn’t call it art. We call them private parts for a reason.

I personally don’t care. But, I think it is unnecessary. I’m frequently called on the carpet for my frequent and constant use of profanity. I’m called “lazy” (oh, maybe pit viper is on to something:)) and lacking in class, and many other fun and judgy things. These are fair, though not really legitimate, opinions. I think a penis that needs an elevator is lazy as far as art goes. It is easy. Next? Tits? Ass? Pussy?  Then what?  And, really why?  We are just steps away from porn. And, while I write erotica, I still think it has a time and a place.

Article claims that in addition to being art, it will “continue sexual harassment conversations”. I would argue, strongly, that this big dick is just a continuation of same. She did do a fantastic job, though. She did it quickly, but it looks remarkably lifelike – minus the balls.

I can’t decide what I want to be today: political, bitchy, hormonal, sympathetic, soap-boxy, funny. Oh man, do the holidays wreak havoc on everything.

Another Masturbating Blog

Welcome, everyone, to another edition of “Bianca’s Blog Writes Itself!”  Today….I read an article about a new app and “toy that goes with app” that I think is worthy of a blog mention……

Also worthy of noting (nothing?) is that many of my masturbating blogs (I wonder….does that phrase work?  I’m not sure..you know, it does itself?) begin in other countries….we are soooo puritanical here in the States.  But, I digress.

A British company, British Condoms …..BC has announced that they have almost one million pre-orders for i.Con……a smart condom. I didn’t know condoms could be smart or dumb….

Here is what I want in a smart condom…I’m really not sure how I would facilitate this…but, maybe a color system?  If the guy wearing it is a douche….it lights up blue.  If the guy wearing it has been with someone else in last 24 hours….red light; last 7 days…..yellow light. If the guy has been with both sides….gray….If the guy wearing it has mommy issues…..purple. If the guy is still trying to figure out his sexuality……..If the guy listens to country music. If the guy washed his hands last….you know….and, it would be great if we could program or choose the questions that are important to us. You get my point.

Here is what it does….it measures thrust velocity, number of thrusts, duration, calories burned…..and, maybe many other things…I had to stop reading.  You know….because this doesn’t sound like a “smart” condom to me. It does beg the question……what are the app users going to do with the information? Put it on their eHarmony profile? Not fucking likely.

And, because you know I can’t let stuff go and nobody EVER gives me enough information, here are some of the questions that immediately come (writing erotica makes words so much more fun)  to mind. Smart British Condoms…..do they make you British? Can only Britts wear them? Can these condoms go only in Britts? Can only Britts come while wearing/receiving? I could go on and on and on……

Why do they always make stuff for men?  Stupid. So much is wasted………who cares about his thrust ability (or whatever that thing measures)? Certainly not any woman I know.  Can you get the job done and do you take care of me?  Those are the real questions.

I’m Gonna Miss You Matt Lauer

I’m gonna miss you Matt Lauer…especially at Halloween……

Now is a good time to be a woman in the workplace…lots of positions are opening up…..seriously, it is probably time I weigh in….erotica writer and all.  I’m the resident sexpert amongst my friends. With all of these sexual misconduct allegations….it gives me lot to think about.  I have a daughter, I work in an environment where men and women supervise men and women.  

One of the guys who works for me was wearing these cool leather converse shoes….brown leather.  The teenagers and I are converse fans so I leaned over to touch one of his shoes….because I am 5 and I touch stuff…..funny….I always ask the women I am going to touch …. Never the men….hmmm…

Anyway…he said, “thanks for the sexual harassment, please don’t touch me” Whatever, asshole……my forefinger barely grazed his shoe…if he didn’t see it, he wouldn’t have known it and yet…….

He is right.  And if I have to worry about sexual harassment at work…so do men. Fuck.

Remember when I was mentioning about my rich wino friends? Well…their response to sexual harassment irritated the fuck out of me.  They thought….”well..there are laws…honestly…it’s going to happen, Boys will be boys..….blah blah.” Basically, a big fat, “who cares?”

I think I finally know why I get so bent out of shape when people are apathetic about this topic or do not share my views. I was mentally and emotionally abused by someone I lived with. He may not have been doing it intentionally (and, if he was…the ramifications of that….) but, he was still doing it.  I spent years trying to get myself back together.  It took forfuckingever to recover. It was a struggle….it was really hard and I was going through other things related. I went through all of the questions: How could I let this go on? Why did I let it go on on and on for so long? Why did I become a victim? What is horribly wrong with me? No reason? No daddy issues well raised. Good self esteem.  My issues were minor in comparison. Not to diminish other experiences, but some of these women make me look like a whiner. There are experiences on all ends of the sexual abuse scale. I am merely saying that if my abuse had been at a different level, who knows how long it would have taken me to come back.

I’m not surprised to hear about all of the allegations….sad a little…but, glad that if these things are true…I’m happy to hear about all of the no tolerance situations…..makes me happy as a mom….why did these women wait so long? I know why…it is embarrassing and degrading and you just want it to go away and you think if you ignore it, it will go away…but, it never does…NBC is going to save millions….but, wow….I’m happy these women are finding the courage to come forward….

Part of issue…is not just the courage to face their accusers…but, to face themselves in that fucking mirror….why did I wait so long? Why did I let it happen? Why didn’t I say anything? Why didn’t I save all those poor women who came after me? What about the ones before? Was I the first?  Blah blah.  And all of those questions you swept under the rug are back and worse. And now, not only do you have to face the accuser, you have to admit what happened and everyone will know and then you have to answer the questions you tried to avoid and then….and then…the really hard shit happens…you have to fix all the shit that got you where you sit (shit?) today.  Women are NEVER NEVER NEVER  to blame for the sexual harassment of men…assholes…. But, we have to fix all the stuff that comes after and that comes up after.

And as we all know…it is much easier to stay in the relationship that is not quite than it is to start over. It is easier to stay in any fucked up relationship than to change or easier to stay in a crappy job….as soon as you admit there is a problem and all of that…..

And one last thing…so many of these companies are so quick to fire….why? Do they have something to hide? Are they mitigating their damages? Are they afraid now in face of current public climate? Did they know all along? Of fucking course they did….assholes.  Probably men.

And then our jackass of a president threw the whole topic out in favor of some dumb bull shit comment about fake news.  I don’t care if you are the president and you think such fucking stupid things.  Please, please, please…..Keep those stupid things to yourself and shut the fuck up….

Or, maybe we should start talking about fake marriages, fake hair, fake children, fake cheetos makeup……

Where Have You Been All of My Life?

What is it with me and blondes lately?  Seriously.  I have never really had a “type”……I have dated them all. Well…not like that.  But, Dexter Holland, lead singer of the Offspring, is the blond that started my downward (?) spiral.

Dex, Dex, Dex….where have you been all of my life? I feel a little too old to have a teenage crush on a rockstar….but, this one….you are going to love him too. And….he is perfect for me…..

First…..let’s start with who he is for the uninitiated….the Offspring is a punk/surf/skater/metal mariachi/ska Southern California rock band. Most of you are going to say….”Never heard of them. Now or when you mentioned them a few blogs back. They must be new.”

“They are not fucking new”…..I state incredulously….really…this is one of the most underrated bands I have ever seen.  They have been around almost 30 years……Still don’t know why I get so irritated, though. Here is their first hit; my current favorite – the first verse is genius; discourse on “kids today”; the one you know.

I probably should have started with the most important thing…he has the cutest dimples. OMG…the cutest….and, I don’t really even like them.  This kid must have gotten away with everything when he was younger……I had no idea dimples would translate so well on an aging rockstar. (For years I listened to this band. A dimpled, baby faced blond was not at all who I pictured in my head until a few years ago.)

So, I went back…..OMG was he cute back in his day (like I said….where has he been?).  He and I are the same age, but he graduated a year later than I (I was a prodigy—I skipped Kindergarten) as class Valedictorian….I wasn’t the class smarty pants….it was an all girls College Prep school…we were all smarty pants….I did okay, but not top of my class. Funny…looking back (trying to describe my studenting) I would say my sister was the troublemaker, I was the angel. Not really so….2 troublemakers. It is probably a good thing we didn’t hang out much back then….apart we were minor little rebels, together….who knows?

Just for drill….he would have been perfect for me back then…sans the blond hair. I was dating a ginger who couldn’t get his life together so I walked. Dex was smart and he played in rebel band. Mostly I would have loved bringing him home because Mom wouldn’t have been able to find fault. She sure liked that other valedictorian I brought home. He is an actual doctor now. But, I digress.

Like many rock stars…these boys started a band with no musical training. Youth. I think their original drummer left the band to become an OB/GYN….a drummer with a medical license to do those things? Thank the rock gods he left before that happened!

I could write about Dex, my current crush, for days (need a new publicist, Dex?).  But, I want to tell you my two favorite things about him……well….after those dimples….#1 is his songwriting ability……seriously…..the Worst Hangover Ever….making deals with God, I’ll do anything….I swear….he wrote and sings what was in my 25 year old hungover head. Great song and well delivered. Why it is not a headbanger’s anthem, I have no idea. Truly, if you listen to his songs, really listen…..he isn’t advocating a loser, punk/rock lifestyle of drugs, sex, and joblessness. He is marching against it….raging against the machine (see what I did there?) of apathy and attitude. He lives his life the same way. Doctorate and all. #2…..that Doctorate. I love that he pursued school while working in a punk band. You have no idea how hard that is. Remember how hard it was to go to college AND party? This guy was getting good grades and fronting a punk band. I’m impressed. I can just hear his parents…and his friends…And, then, he had to decide between his 2 loves…..and, he chose music, the creative one….which I adore. And, then…..after he had conquered that, he put it on pause and he went back to finish school.  See, Mom and Dad……just because you drop out…doesn’t mean you won’t go back and finish some day…..Dex did it….and, I adore that. So…..you know…he is pissing parents off….

He kinda is the real punk rocker…..raging against their own attitudes and lifestyle.

Of course…I bought their 3rd and 5th album and then really got into  them when teaching the girl all she needs to know about music……late to the party.

Also worthy to note……he was/is married to a hair stylist……shocker!  I was on to something with my Rockstar Mondays….has-band or not…in my….I have a Muse blog.

Last…………………….

Went out for my birthday lunch to check out a local bar….without my glasses…”Is that Dexter Holland’s hot sauce on the bar?”…25 year old waitress, just because I look like your mom doesn’t mean I am your mom……and……man, that guy is everywhere I go…..

Are you stalking me, Dex? You don’t need to.  According to Wiki we are a perfect match…call me. If I’m going to date a singer, it might as well be you.