November 19, 2012

Why I'm Thankful for Mr. T

{Enter commercial voice over dude

In a world full of blogs with eleventy-million pumpkin pie recipes and DOOR BUSTER deals one blog defies the odds and says I refuse to follow the masses and blog a month of thanks, I refuse to give away Pilgrim and Indian salt and pepper shakers, I refuse to put my granny's secret recipe on Pinterest so you can repin it on your "Nom nom" board.  This blog gives thanks to the gift that keeps on giving:

Mr. T
That's right, I'm taking this opportunity during the season of Thanks to thank baby Jesus or the Mayflower or whoever for, Mr.T.  You all know how much I love my family, kids and peeps, right?  Nobody wants to read my gushing, except maybe them, in which case I will write it on a note and put it in their lunch box or something.

But Mr. T is something to behold.  The man is a legend, and dare I say, we have a lot in common.

Okay, Mr. T has a slightly more bling

Do not let the sweet smile and cardigan fool you, friends, I am a cold-hearted, ruthless, mo-fo type person.  Seriously.  If I had to compare the sheer magnitude of my badassery, Mr. T would be my only equal.  Look at me; I'm oozing intimidation, just like Mr. T.  But enough about how cool I am.
Mr. T. has really been in some of the most classic and/or iconic shows of our time: The A-Team, Different Strokes, Rocky III,  and he even helped Scooby and the gang solve some mysteries.  So you really can't deny the scale of his recognizable stardom.  Nor, would I dare to challenge it, because Mr. T. don't play.

Mr. T has also given us some of the most useful quotes of our generation, allow me to elaborate.

I pity the fool
I got no time for the jibba-jabba.
First name Mr, middle name 'period', last name T!
and who could forget...
I ain't no computer hacker!
I also have no time for the jibba-jabba, and I pitied a fool once and all it got me was divorced and a couple kids.  If only I would have heeded the warnings of Mr. T!  Here's the thing, friends.  We only have one life to live, so live it!  It doesn't mean that we have to wear 100 pounds of gold chains and a Mohawk, albeit, that will get you noticed, but it does mean be yourself and own it.  Stop making excuses and do what you love, what you are passionate about and if you don't know what that is; I highly suggest taking some time to look.  Really look, beyond the picket fence of your yard, beyond your circle of friends, beyond what you think your limitations are and take a leap of faith.

I must show some love for Mr. T. who is really a self proclaimed Mama's boy.  I seriously found that on the Internet, and you know everything on the Internet is true, so there.  But I leave you with perhaps the crowning achievement by one,  Laurence Tureaud, that is sure to make you smile.  Remember to hug your Mamas this Thanksgiving, Mr. T. said so.

I think Mr. T and I may have had the same pair of Daisy Dukes in the 80's. A gigantic thanks to Twitter pal, @wildpokerman, for sending me the video link.  It has brought me countless hours of joy and laughter.

 Happy Thanksgiving, friends, and remember, when you're putting down one mother, you're putting down Mother's all over the world.

November 14, 2012

Reasons I'd Win A Fight: A Triad Post

The Triad is back!  If you have no idea what I am talking about, you should click, hereWell we technically never left, but one member has been has been forced into fur-baby parenthood, and we were unsure if she had totally crossed over to the dark side of cat lady land.  At any rate, that’s probably just an excuse and the real truth is we are too lazy or forget what we were going to write about.  If we ever get a petty cash fund, I’m totally hiring a {hot} assistant to unscramble our off-topic messages to one another.  

Support the Triad's Movember efforts, I know, gnarly
I know some rumors have been circulating that we have broken up, and I’m here to set the record straight.  Neither have we replaced any of the members or acquired another member, all Destiny's Child-like, making this a Bitchery Quartet.  For the record, the Triad could never fight each other, we are all too awesome and it really would end in a tragic fight to the death.  
However, I may or may not have found myself in the heat of battle a time or two, thus we bring you:

Reasons I’d Win A Fight

Oh Snap! I Think It Through
I am not one of those people that spew out the first thing that comes to mind when in the heat of battle.  Most often, when that happens, people churn all sorts of jackassedness out, because they feel attacked or the need to defend, right away.  Oh no, I sit back, take it all in, and then craft a witty response while attempting to keep my composure.  This makes me more Ninja than Christina.  I do not care to do battle in the, "You are, NO you ARE", format.  Pointless.  I don’t need the last word; I prefer to be the coherent one.  I’m not in any way, shape or form fit for a reality show.

I Don’t Actually Care:
I almost threw a punch at another girl once, long, long ago, but came to my senses at the last minute.  Why?  I really didn’t care.  Plus she was bigger than me.  Know when to walk away friends, trying to prove bravery might only make you look like a bigger fool.  Not much bothers me.  Tell your drama to your Mama, or Llama, or Obama.  I don’t care.  I probably should, but I’m not going to allow your vie for attention bait me.  You see, this doesn’t make me better than you, I just have more control.

I’m In a Bad-Ass Gang, aka, Triad
You really can’t fight with someone that’s in a gang, or a Triad.  Because we will defend each other no matter what.  We are officially a gang because we have a caricature and twitter handle, that's official peeps.  It's what all the cool gangs do. We will throw down in a battle with weapons, much like the Anchorman, Channel 5 News Team.  I’m talking back alley brawl, tridents and grenades. 

Now go check out Christina and Marjorie's posts and find out why we broke the fight club rules and went public. 

November 10, 2012

Texting While Driving & Other Dumb Ways To Die

You either text while you drive or you don't.  Now I realize this is a one way ticket to Jesus.  In my past life {or 6 months ago} there is a good probability you might find me texting, or tweeting, while driving.  Don't judge.  In my defense, if there can be one, I never did while my kids were in my car, so instead of killing all 3 of us, I only theoretically kill myself and leave them orphaned. Here comes the insane rationalization... In dead stop, bumper to bumper traffic, the Twitter would just call to me, and if I scrolled through, I might have had to reply a time or two.  What turned me around?  This little conversation with the bff:

I am en route to the airport to pick up bff.  Bff texts me that she has landed and asks where we should meet.  I, driving to the airport, text back, this is important after all.  Later, she scolded me for texting while driving although conveniently forgets she texted me first knowing good and well I was driving...

As you all know I'm not much of a phone talker, unless you’re a super cute dude trying to sweep me off my feet, so I live and breathe by text and email.  Bff always feels the need to add at the end of her texts, "Not driving are you?"  Bossy pants.  Well there is only so much a girl can take before she cracks to the relentless mothering of her dear, sweet friend, and quits.  Cold turkey, baby.  I might also add, this explains my decline in brilliant tweeting during the 5 o'clock hour. Thus, my tweeting entirely.  Sorry friends.

I'd like to say that is the only stupid thing I could do to end up six feet under, but alas, there are more dumb ways I could die:

I get lost:  To those who know me, they know I am directionally challenged.  And when I say challenged, I mean don't even speak to me in fancy North, South, East, West talk.  I need landmarks, mileage and minutes.  In my defense I have a little driving anxiety which leads to panic attacks every so often, so to say that one day I might be trying to navigate to the gas station on the west-side and end up in the Bermuda Triangle is not far off.  If I get lost in downtowu, uptown or the outskirts of town,  I will curl up and die, especially if it's at night.  Thank sweet baby Jesus for my iPhone with Google maps, MapQuest, iMap, maps 'r us, and let me map it out for you dummy apps.

Fall into a well:  Like little Jessica? No.  I'm not that teensy.  My well would involve damp dark sewer water and bats, I know it would.  I am pretty much a klutz, so if there is a well that needs tripping over, I'm your gal.  Remember that well in Silence of the Lambs? That's my pit of doom right there.

Cut off my own finger while cooking and bleed to death:  My kid's get total blame for this one.  I am usually conscious of what I am doing whilst slicing and dicing in the kitchen, but every so often, I need to scream something along these lines:

Stop hitting your brother!
What did you say? /Knock it off? /Now what?
Glue does not go in hair.
How bad is it bleeding?

Don't judge.  I know you've said at least 3-4 of those today.  I'm here for you.  So as I'm debating whether an E.R. visit is necessary, I continue chopping away, debating a tourniquet and slice, right on the ol' finger.  Now there are two of us in the E.R.

I get really famous:  Never say never, this blog could blow up one day, and I mean that figuratively not literally; although I have almost blown up this blog a time or two, literally.  Savvy?  Everyone knows when there is an extremely interesting famous person, like no one else; they die a tragic and sudden death.  So I, being unique and interesting would be doomed if I were famous like the other icons: Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, Michael Jackson, Princess Dianna, and RIP.

Let's you and I keep this blog on the down-low so I can live out a long-ass life.  This reminds me I need to give Christina my password to the blog so she can write a really moving post on my behalf when I die.  However, if she and I go out Thelma and Louise style, you'll be out of luck, yet more than likely see it on the six o'clock news.

On a more serious note, a heartfelt thanks to all of our veterans who have served our country that allow me the freedom to post stupid crap like this.  Happy Veteran's Day!

November 05, 2012

With A Rebel Yell, She Cried Mo, Mo, Mo

That's a totally catchy title right?  Oh just wait, it's about to get real up in here.  All my ghetto slang aside, and my total tardiness of this post, I've got an important message {laced with sarcasm} to deliver. Plus a very important, yet terrifying announcement.  Pinktober is over {love for the boobies}, Movember is upon us.

In case you haven't heard of Movember, it is basically this, I'll copy and paste for you, you're welcome:

 Once registered at, men start Movember 1st clean shaven. For the rest of the month, these selfless and generous men, known as Mo Bros, groom, trim and wax their way into the annals of fine moustachery. Supported by the women in their lives, Mo Sistas, Movember Mo Bros raise funds by seeking out sponsorship for their Mo-growing efforts.

In essence, grow a stache to raise awareness and money for Prostate Cancer, love the boobs, but love the dudes too.   This is something that is dear to my bestie, Christina's heart...go read this, she's way more eloquent, and funny than I am.  I cannot even tell you how many dates the fake stache has secured her, seems dudes like a lady with a fake stache.  I don't understand that, nor does she, and I can't speak to the caliber of men this attracts either.

Moving on, women {most women} can't grow a mustache, so we must find Movember alternatives, nobody likes wearing a fake mustache everyday, it's itchy and irritating, plus it sticks to your lip gloss.  Therefore, yes, therefore, we must go alternative routes, Christina didn't shave her armpits last year, I also threatened her bodily harm if she posted those pictures on her blog.  It was serious people, there was a poll and everything.  That will come back to haunt her when she makes a run for the white house.  This year, she is shaving nothing...

I cannot be as brave as to completely not shave, I'd be writing a post on how to terrify your boyfriend in 30 days and I just can't chance it.  But heartless and totally conceited I am not.  So here's what I'll do, you friends, have read about the woes of my eyebrows, I will not pluck, wax or thread the brows for 30 days.  This is serious, we are talking straight up unibrow on the horizon.  It will look something like this:

BEFORE Movember
AFTER Movember, that's me on the left

October 26, 2012

Divorce Sucks, Then You Live...

Divorce sucks, then you live.  Meaning there is no such thing as an "easy" divorce.  All of them are hard and heart-wrenching, no matter the level of love or hate you may still have.  The good news is, that there is life after divorce, it's called, "holy crap, I'm a single parent, now what".  That my friends, is almost tougher than divorce.

I am blogging over at amazing single Mama, Mutant Supermodel's blog today.  She is doing a single parent series by other single parent bloggers to share experiences and give single parents a safe place to fall.

My post over there is probably the most vulnerable I have ever been about my divorce and the reasons behind it.  It has been something I haven't really shared on my blog, but I think it was about time my experience needed a voice.  So if you want all the nitty gritty dirt, click over.

Thanks for being patient in my blogging absence, I could say I've been saving the world or something, but I've actually just been eating a cupcake.

Now, go read, would ya!

October 06, 2012

What To Say When There Are No Words...

My regularly scheduled post on how the 5 ways I’m like Mr. T, has been postponed.  Yes, I know you are disappointed; you pity the fool and all that jazz. As you know though, as is in my life, when something needs to be said, I need to spew it out, otherwise is a mangled mess.

I have a dear friend going through a very dark time in her life.  A time similar to my journey what seems forever, but not so long ago.  Knowing exactly what she is going through, it would seem I have the perfect thing to say.  But I don’t, because there is no perfect thing to say.  I think back to that time, when I was reeling in devastation and the world was very dark around me, and wonder what pulled me through.  Was it words of wisdom, revenge, kindness of strangers, God? 

When our loved ones hurt, all we can offer is hope.  We want so badly to take the pain away, that we try every cliché’ in the book to resurrect them to their unbroken glory.  But truth be told, I think only listening, some hugs and perhaps a bottle of wine are the only true helps.

There are some things, my friend, that I will not tell you:

God Only Gives You What You Can Handle

That has to be the worst saying ever, and here is why: God didn’t give you any of this.  God did not choose addiction or deceit, only humans make those choices.  The burden falls to the transgressor, it is their actions that have brought pain; God only offers a hand.  We can curl up and turn away or take a chance and reach out and walk to greatness.  With God in our lives, our burdens are lessened; we don’t have as much to carry.

You’ll Come Out Of This Stronger

Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.  Doesn’t’ make it worth it that is for certain. My hope is that you will, but it will only prove the strength you already have and your will to fight.  People will say, “Be strong”, but really, what other choice is there?  Despair offers two choices, concession to darkness or perseverance.  Many choose to become a victim of circumstance and stay stagnant in distress, paralyzed, unable to move forward, because it’s scary.  We then allow that to define us, our lives, we live and breathe it, we make excuses to be comfortable in it.  You can be defined as wounded or warrior, the choice is yours, the path long, and oftentimes it is hard to differentiate which side is which.

You’ll Meet Someone Wonderful Someday

Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.  But you won’t meet the right one until you are ready.  Loneliness is one hard pill to swallow.  And though we are never truly alone, life without a partner or companionship is hard and arduous.  I think in my journey, it was important to discover that I would be okay despite being alone.  That I was phenomenal without someone else.  That my happiness did not depend on another person, and still it does not depend on another person.  My own happiness is mine alone.  You DO NOT NEED SAVING. Loving someone and being loved are icing on my double chocolate espresso cake, my friend.  When you are complete, it will find you when you least expect it, but let it in.  When it’s right, it won’t be scary.  I know because I know, and am lucky to have a man I love in my life who did not ride in on a white horse to save me, he did not make everything bad go away, he did not promise me the world; but he makes me smile like I haven’t smiled in a long time.

I Won’t Tell You Your Ex Is A D-bag

Okay, I might once, because some things have to be said.  But I know outlining his faults doesn’t make you feel better, it only hurts worse.  Love isn’t something we can turn off.  You may love him for the rest of your life.  But I know that hurts to the core.  We want to be angry, and I think that is healthy.  Anger sparks change unless we bend to revenge.

I Won’t Tell You What To Do

I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t got advice for mile as far as what you need to do from here on out.  But what you need and what I think you need are probably very different.  Only you know where to go from here.  Even not knowing is a choice.  Sometimes the best choice.  When we don’t have a definitive plan, we allow so many more opportunities to open up for us.  Sitting in despair won’t bring opportunity, but neither will pushing limitations when we are weak.  Gather your strength, feel your courage within before you walk; you will be better prepared for the journey.  There is no rush.

What I can tell you is this.

This will hurt for a while.  This will be the hardest thing that has ever happened to you.  It’s going to suck.  Tomorrow might suck just as badly, but it is a new day.  It’s okay to embrace the total suckiness of the situation, I in fact encourage it. I like to call this the Adele Stage.   Maybe a blog is born, who knows?

Someday, it won’t hurt so badly.  Someday, the tears will lessen.  Someday, you won’t feel as broken as you did yesterday.  Someday, you will be able to smile again. 

Today, breathe in and out, if that is all you can do.  Don’t try to be strong for anyone and take care of yourself.  Let the tears wash away the hurt; allow your wounds some fresh air.  There will be scars on your soul, always.  There has to be no definition to your journey, close your eyes and walk willingly, trusting God will take you there.

I know, because I know, that everything will be okay.  In great despair, is amazing grace.  Grab on, beautiful friend, your life is waiting.

September 20, 2012

Five Ways To Know You're A Cat Lady...

There is an inevitable point in the life of a singleton, where one must ask themselves if they will live out the remainder of their days as a cat lady.  Now let me just clarify, there is cat lady and there is crazy cat lady.  You know what I'm talkin' about when I say crazy cat lady, and that is not the cat lady of which I speak today.  Crazy cat ladies talk to invisible people, could be considered cat hoarders, and wear lots of layers.  They also might have heavy artillery in their coat closet.  Of course, that's all hear say.

This cat looks dangerous, I wouldn't cross it
Your basic run of the mill cat lady usually starts off getting A cat, because they live alone and want companionship.  Now there is absolutely nothing wrong with living alone and having a cat, pets are great, don't be calling me a cat hater or anything. To be honest, more people should try living on their own for awhile.  Cat lady-ness can be a choice too!  I in fact, very well might live out my days alone or in my kid's basement.  Good possibility of that.

 So no more beating around the bush, here are five ways to know you are a cat lady:

Your Cats Have Long-Ass Names 

That's right.  The first step on the slippery slope into cat lady land is naming your cat something besides Sprinkles or Mr. Kitty.  Sure, sure, I'm positive someone can make an argument for breeding or some such thing, but my friends, that's denial and you know it.  If your cat has more than three names, a prefix included in the name, or a title, check yourself.  Absolutely I'll give you examples.

*Hector Rodriguez Fluffington, Jr.

*Admiral Bingo VonBobbin Catbeard

*Miss Marple Pretty Kitty

*Snowball Megatron, but you call him Michael

Admiral? Really?  Everyone knows cats hate water.  I'm just telling you, if you rattle off some long-ass name for your cat, it's going to say something about you.  It's going to say, you don't play around...and you might be a cat lady.

You Have More Cats Than There Are Kennedy's 

If you are starting to name your cats after the Kennedy's, Osmond's, or Brady Bunch, there might be a problem.  I of course would probably just say, the yellow one, the black one, the striped one, the mean one; but I'm not a cat lady.  You could always number them too if you needed, 5, 9, 24; but numbers and denial don't mix.

You Can't Pay Your Electric Bill

If you are strapped for cash and can't pay your electric bill because all your money is going to gourmet kitty food and a weekly trip to Sam's Club for litter, you might be a cat lady.  I don't think I really need to expand on this one, do I?

 You Admit It   

You Avoid Your Friends To Play With Your Cat(s)

Oh yes she did!  This should not be happening at 30 years old, and this post might be an intervention.  Because one of the 5 Reasons I'm Smokin' Hot, cannot be, "because my cat said so".  I will have you know the Triad did not break up and we are dealing with the situation.  We refuse to lose M.M. to the dark side.  Make sure you read the Triad posts regarding cat ladies, here and here.

Did I forget any reasons? What are some more warning signs?

Or you could tell me some funny cat names, because that was kind of fun actually.