I'm a Sucker For

Yes, I realize I have done this before but hey everyone should have a list of the little things that make you smile.


1.) Bright pink highlighters.

2.) Dove dark chocolate promises.

3.) Baby giggles. Just make sure you keep those little suckers to your self.

4.) The beach.

5.) Lined notebooks. (I have a little addiction.)

6.) Ice coffee

7.) Cute flip flops.

8.) Art in pretty much any form.

9.) Funky colored nail polish.

10.) Good friends and good laughs.

Thoughts while being Fitted for my Pope Hat

I got married. I smoke pot. I'm pregnant. I'm quitting my job. I'm a lesbian. I'm getting a divorce. I have a terminal illness that no one knows about. I had an affair. I'm filing for bankruptcy. I have a drug problem . I have a child that no one knows about. I hear voices. I tried to kill myself. I had an abortion. I had a condom get lost 'in there'.

My entire life people have told me their secrets. I don't know why. I've never really thought about it until recently. Everyday a new secret. You would think it would only be close friends, but sadly no. Doctor's offices, Walmart, church, waitress' while I'm out to dinner; all places people confess their inner thoughts or secrets to me.

Do I mind? No, not at all. I'm not the type of person that runs and tells other people's business. My only problem is, does anyone know where I can get a portable confession booth?

You Dropped the Bomb on Me, Part II

When last we left our chunky heroine, she had a rather persistent man begging her to come to bed. She was torn between a rock and a hard place (pun intended).

Will she cheat on The Gingerman? Will she pull the covers over her head and swear to be the crazy cat lady forever? Will she go to TRC's house and pull a Lorena Bobbitt?

Let's find out:

Me: And you promise to not let me be late for work?

TRC: I promise. Scout's honor.

Me: ...Well.......I just don't think I should.

TRC: You know it would just be two friends hanging out. Nothing has to happen.

Me: *Silence*

TRC: Well...

Me: No. I just can't.

TRC: Okay. That's cool.

After sending my "goodnight" message, I couldn't get the possibilities out of my head. What if we could have one night and just be two friends hanging out? Can't men and women just be friends? I'm alone, I'm upset and need a friend.

I jump out of bed. I throw on my jeans. Brush my teeth. Grab my keys. In less than ten minutes I am out the door.

Twenty minutes later I am parked across from his house. I can't bring myself to pull in the driveway. We've been up and down so many times in the past. Do I really want to open myself to this kind of yo-yo effect again? And then, like a mallet to my chest, that night so long ago and his words come rushing back.

"You're nothing to consider"

Twenty minutes later I was home. My heart, safe.

Taking Out the Garbage

As I sat down to write I realized that I just have way too much on my mind. So, I am going to dump it all right here. It's going to be short and sweet and I'm not going to elaborate on any one thing unless someone asks. So, buckle your seat belt . Here goes!

I feel totally left out. What are his motives? Does she realize how she treats me? Am I just his crutch? Will I ever be able to finish college? Money. Am I going to be alone forever? Will I ever have the motivation to lose the weight? Will things with us ever go back to at least semi-normal? Am I good enough? Does it matter? Does he care? Is the cancer going to come back? Does what I do matter? Will he ever understand?

You Dropped the Bomb on Me, Baby

I think I have a chip planted in my brain. I believe the receptor on that chip is attached to TRC's computer. I am fairly certain this chip must send him a text or an email when I have forgotten he exists. Screw you Steve Jobs, your futuristic technology and the robot you rode in on.


It started a few weeks ago. Just a "Hey, how are you?" texts and then he would be gone for another 24 to 48 hours. Then last week I got the standard "Hey, you wanna ride over?" After waiting for my reply for about 30 minutes he then says "Well, I guess not." Really, there boy genius? It took you 30 minutes to figure that one out? Hmm, slow would be a compliment.


Anyway, last night after a few unsettling texts with the Gingerman, TRC sends me a text and boy is it a nuclear warhead: "Why don't you come over? I could use the company and I'll set the alarm for in the morning".


Do we have a nuclear fall out shelter in the area? Cause he dropped the bomb on me for sure.


Me: And you promise to not let me be late for work?


TRC: I promise. Scouts honor.

To Be Continued...........

Make Arrangements

Me: I think I have consumption an I'm going to die in a heap of rags all dramatic like.

The Midget: I sincerely do not want you to shuffle off this mortal coil. But I know that if you did, it would totally be the best death EVER.

Me: I intend for there to be PLENTY of weeping and wailing. And maybe string instruments.

The Midget: I will tear my clothes asunder in utter, inconsolable grief.

Me: Awesome. I'll put you in the program. I need someone to gnash their teeth, too. Maybe The Cupcake Slayer? Just make sure to pay her by giving her dibs on all my stuff.

The Midget: Good thinking. Do you want us to serve red, white, or blush?

Me: Whatever goes best with pizza rolls.

Sweet Dreams are Made of These

The universe has had me at a break-neck pace for a few years now. I won't go in to all of the details (most of you already know) but let's just agree I needed time to take a step back and catch my breath.

A few weeks ago, Mr. Boombastick gifted me with Season 1 of Criminal Minds. I don't think he understands that when I said, "wow, thanks!" I meant, "OMG, this is freakin' awesome. Now go away. I'm gonna need some alone time." I really can't help getting all hot-n-bothered over that gorgeous, funny, gun carryin', blacked out SUV drivin' Agent Morgan.

I spent an entire Sunday reclined (getting up only for more Captain Crunch) with the very handsome, dark, sculpted F.B.I agent

I guess we did dodge a bunch of bullets and go running at least twice an episode, but imaginary exercise never counts.

Ordinarily, days in which I do not leave my house make me feel guilty and like I'm unwittingly suffering from borderline personality disorder. But when I have a goal.....say of watching an entire first season, it's not wasted. It's a study in behavioral analysis, damn it. And it's clearly what the baby Jesus meant for his day of rest.

You know, except for the dirty thoughts of Shemar Moore.