Bauble head dolls, unemployment candidates and perverts whipping it out....what is the world coming to?

Let me start out today by thanking each and every one of you who make the time to read this thing, to bug the shit out of your friends to read it too, and to shower me with delightful ego inflating compliments..making my head WAY bigger than genetics already dictated it is..I mean like think bauble head doll proportions...seriously, if you know me personally you know I cannot fit into a standard baseball hat, straw hat, knit hat...hell, any hat....and now it's going to be difficult to walk around and not trip over it...but I am not going to complain...it gives me the warm fuzzies I guess people with souls would call feelings, and then there's the fact you motivate me to come up with enticing stuff everyday...and that makes my head and brain hurt in a good way....

But obviously it wasn't motivation enough to get off my ass and write yesterday, but Big Brother was back, and my hands were tied and not in a semi erotic good way either...

No, it was the shackles of corporate America calling for me....and with Morcheeba blasting out my eardrums, I settled into the robotic mode of diligent employee and pounded away in my cubie. My own one woman army of conforming worker...Stalin would be so proud.....(and that's an attempt at semi political humor without starting a debate or the use of the cliche comparison of Hitler or something)

So it was that I was catching up on all things left undone from Valentine's Day, and Hoovering down my Dove chocolates left in my car to find at 7:30 am with a cute card tucked underneath....Man true to my own heart, hubby #2 knew to wait until the candy was discounted even it it meant getting his lazy ass up on his one day off and hauling it to CVS at 6:00 am to get the biggest Dove container he could....all joking aside, being able to exchange cards that read "I am not sick of you yet" and so forth...well, I don't know if its the passionate, rip your clothes off and bend you over kinda of heat and love we had when dating or the soul mate weeping stuff of Blockbuster or Red Box sagas like the Notebook, Up Close and Personal or Ghost....but it is something I cannot describe, and it works for us....

Take if  you will for a second that I am some jumbled, fucked up, chewed on puzzle that you bought at Salvation Army, and you get me home and some of the corner pieces are missing. And we all know there is no point in even starting the puzzle if you don't have the corner pieces because they help form your shape and act as a guide as to how the rest of the pieces will be mapped out...well, Domino...he's my anchor, my corner piece....and it took a TON of mismatched and not quite good fits to find that one piece, battered and a little moth eaten, torn and a little faded, to help all the pieces fall into place that make up me...to help the mommy, the wife, the Elizabeth, the crazy woman who runs out in a baggy t-shirts in bare feet to remind him how much of a dick he was that morning followed by a kitty litter breath kiss fall into place...and that place is here, its there, its anywhere I want it to be, and he holds my hand, and keeps his damn mouth shut, and that works for us....he's my missing piece....

So, that being said,  I managed to Hoover the whole box....some could say faster than you can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, but I was hungry, and the inner fat girl was coming out under stress....so I was jamming out and kicking ass at work, and for one moment I wasn't worrying about all the little non entities who can be a hemorrhoid on my ass...such as ex husband/sperm donor, the bill man, the tax man, the cake not baked for Max's party, the guilt of eating beef,  the stack of laundry which today toppled over and damn near killed the dog....

No, for one moment my blood pressure was level...and I wasn't too constipated at the moment coming off a plant diet to indulge in the sin of carnivorous snacks....no, I was experiencing that thing Max likes to call "Po" which is inner peace....and I felt like I had a huge kung fu grip on life, and all these rants, all the fucking lunatic streams of outrageousness were a way to get it out without exploding too much..

This isn't to say that twenty-two minutes later when I got off the phone with the AG's office I wasn't right back where I started....something about finding out your daughter's father could only manage to hold down a job he uprooted himself over 2.5 hrs for a total of 6, COUNT THEM 6 weeks.....well, you can understand the slew of profanities even the Spanish speaking plant woman had to turn her head because pissed off transcends any language barrier.....I am sure if you stood on a street corner in Japan and screamed "MOTHERF*CKER " at the top of your lungs....well someone would understand...and not because you shoved some asshole out in traffic before you did it either....

And it was that my head in the clouds, outer body experience of peace, serenity and euphoric chocolate endorphin releasing highs came crashing to a grinding halt, and I hit the Earth...and realized once again I cannot escape truly blatant residual reminders of my fucked up past...

And it was that with a heavy bleeding heart I picked up my Shark from the bus stop and as I drove back to my office where she would quietly, head bent and brow furrowed with her cute retro glasses color and finish her math, I wondered what I could do to make up for the fact I had the worst judgment 10 years ago in who I gave my heart, my body, my life to....how is it I could be so careless for something so fleeting...and believe me it was...and for what? For Charlotte, I know that is the most obvious answer, because I remind myself she is the best thing her father and I will have ever done with our lives...but what about all the sticky mess left to deal with? It's not as if we are going to accomplish anything More noble than raising her the best we, let me correct myself, I can.

Let's face it, some washed up, bipolar trust fund baby with no social skills  (and as we can see due to recent developments, job skills), and a sober former drug addict who has issues with men and confusing, distrustful relationships with other women are not your prime candidates for finding a cure for AIDS or cancer or performing ground breaking research for sustainable renewable resources to battle malnutrition and hunger over the globe..fuck, we're Lucky if we can handle not fucking up our daughter...and this is my biggest fear...

This daily pain, this serving I swallow without fail of humble pie to ensure I function, I make it through one more day and do the best, the healthiest things for her....and pray to whatever God hasn't abandoned or given up hope on my salvation yet, that she turns out to be twice the person I am...I aim higher than that, but I don't tell her because I don't want to be one of those parents who sets unrealistic expectations and find my anorexic, Aderall snorting, blow job giving daughter spiraling out of control and pregnant....and that wasn't me personally,  but a amalgamation of all the PSA or made for T.V. Lifetime Network movies I could think of...

I am sure a lot of kids out there are just as fucked up, just as twisted, just as screwed with parents like us or worse who didn't stand a chance to begin with....but it's what she does with those twisted, dark feelings of disappointment or desire that I worry about and something tells me I don't have the brass balls it takes to deal with the answer if I don't like it.....

But there I go being all Debbie Downer, and what kind of bitch would I be that I already have written her off? I mean I know there's always the greater chance it will be something good...or less self destructive than my haunting past...I mean here I went from snorting 8 balls to popping out  kids complete with birth plans, wagons, grandma panties, and pot roasts....

But I don't want her to settle for the half life I have now...and its half because I wasted the good portion of the first half whining about the shaft I got from my father, the teasing and taunts at school, and the waaa waaa waaa's of what didn't go my way......


And so it was I smoothed her blonde beautiful hair, and kissed the tip of her freckled nose....and looked in her deep deep need there own pool man blue eyes...and I told her she could have the last chocolate from my Dove box....because it was the last heart....

And she was the start, the beginning of mine.....



OK. So that maybe seem to some like a corny and lame ass way to end it, but what more is there to say? Want to hear about how I came home to a note on my door from management that some pervert was reported to have gotten out of his car, directly in front of my complex and gate, and "fondle" himself in front of the junior high bus riders waiting? A mere 15 minutes AFTER my Shark hopped on her bus???  And the Spring Branch Police are looking into..I will show you looking...directly in the end of 9mm

Or how bout how I may be the only person who is already over Whitney Houston's tragic and self induced demise? I mean really people.."Crack is whack! I make too much money..." you're right, Ms. Houston....the $40 dollars is way too cheap versus the $100 baggies of coke and balloons of heroin or outrageous doctor bills to buy people off for scripts....Can we say Michael all over again and move on?


Or how bout how I have cramps and the Naproxen isn't cutting it today? And I think I need to go buy some Tampax at CVS during lunch?

If the shit before all this wasn't to your liking or up to snuff...then I don't know what to tell you....Its the goddamn box of Dove this fat girl ate...the chocolate is making me delirious and mushy....I have this weird tightening in my chest, and the doctor tells me its something called love...