The Best Thing Since Microwave S'mores: The S'mortini

Well friends, I have done it yet again. What, you ask? Well, I've come up with an amazing recipe for something you just won't be able to live without this summer! I mean, I know it's an American tradition to make s'mores around the campfire, but let's face it. Once you hit 21, they start to lose their novelty. So, here's what I suggest instead.

The S'mortini

What You'll Need

Smirnoff Fluffed Marshmallow flavored vodka

White Creme de cocoa (that's the clear one, folks)

Chocolate syrup

graham cracker crumbs

What You Do

Rim the martini glass with chocolate sauce, and you can drip some into the glass as well to make it look pretty. Rim the glass with the graham cracker crumbs. Shake equal parts of the vodka and creme de cocoa over ice. Strain it into the glass, and drop a few mini marshmallows for garnish. ENJOY!

Domestic Goddess: Garage Sale Warrior

Some of you may know this about me, or maybe you have gathered it from some of my prior postings. However, for those of you who aren't aware, I am a bad bitch. In other words, you don't want to fuck with me. It's that simple. I will rock your socks as your friend, but cross me or anyone I love, and you won't soon forget it.

One of my very favorite weekend activities when the weather is cooperative (and sometimes when it's not) is to hit up the local garage sales. I call it garage saling. No, it's not spelled "sailing" because that doesn't make any fucking sense. I am not sailing; I am sale-ing, which grammatically works out to be saling. Anyhow, it's fun for me, and I have found some of the BEST things in my house at garage sales for ridiculously cheap prices. It's one of those things where either people have no idea what they have -OR- they just want to get it the fuck out of their house. I digress.

Our story begins on a Friday morning, yesterday to be exact. I thought I had scored a major deal on a Coach handbag for $20. It was this mint green color that I'd never seen. I thought $20 was a steal for it...It turns out it was more of a steal than I thought...Hubby could have slapped me upside the head when he got home and looked at it because even he could tell right away that it was a counterfeit bag. Doh! I resolved that I would take this illegal piece of merchandise back to the sale this morning and get my money back. I will not be throwing away $20, and I certainly want no part of the counterfeit bag market. I don't live in Chinatown, and I am scared shitless of consequences.

Before going to the sale in question, I hit up several other sales earlier in the morning since this ad specifically disclosed "NO EARLY BIRDS" with about 17 exclamation points. Clearly, these people value their sleep. Well, when 9:30 rolled around, I decided it was time to head in that direction. Upon arrival, there was the sweetest older lady who was keeping watch over things. The Faux-ch wasn't hers, but she assured me that her daughter would most certainly refund my money once she got back from putting up the signs. No problem. I waited patiently for her return.

When she got back, I showed her the bag and told her that it was counterfeit, and she acted slightly (although now I am pretty sure it was an act) surprised. "Hmmm," was her response when I pointed out the flaws in the bag.

Me: So, I'd like to get my money back.

Garage Sale Lady: Well, I'm not sure if I can give you your money back.

Me: What do you mean?

GSL: Well, I mean, I'm not a store.

Me: Okay? What does that have to do with anything?

GSL: Well, I don't have any of the money from yesterday here. I only have change for paying customers.

Me: STUNNED SILENCE

GSL's mom: I'll give her the money back.
GSL's mom then went inside. While I waited for her return, I spoke a little bit more with this crazy woman who refused to return my money.

Me: You do realize it's illegal to sell a counterfeit bag, right?

GSL: Well, I could see if I was representing the bag as a Coach, but I didn't know that it was a fake bag. And I bought it from another garage sale. I guess I should return it to that one and try to get my money back, right? I've learned over the years that when you buy something at a garage sale, you're taking a chance.

Me: Okay, well, you know NOW that it's fake, and you refuse to give me my money back. That makes it illegal. And it isn't my problem that you didn't take the bag back in the first place. I don't throw my money away, and I certainly don't purchase illegal merchandise.

GSL: Well, my mom's going to give you your money back.

Me: That's very kind of her

GSL: Yes it is.

Can you people believe this shit?! I was seriously ready to call the police. Sure, it's only $20, but come the fuck on already! If that happened to me, I would have been absolutely embarrassed and would have refunded the money without a second thought. I would have felt absolutely terrible. Hubby asked me yesterday if I was actually going to go back and try to get my money, and I told him of course! Hello, how could anyone deny me my money if I had the balls to actually come back in the first place?! Well, this lady was one tough (and crazy) nut to crack. Fortunately, her mother was very sweet. If she hadn't been, I would have called the authorities. I don't mess around when it comes to my money, and I won't take any shit from anybody.

Moral of the story: I have no clue how to spot a counterfeit bag. My husband does. And clearly, I am a warrior when it comes to garage saling.

Here's to Karma!

Pink Lemonade Fruit Dip

Pink Lemonade Fruit Dip

So, if you are looking for a recipe for the best fruit dip you've ever tasted, you've come to the right place! I was looking for a fruit dip that would be similar to one I had been coerced into making for a Tastefully Simple party (BLECH) only 1000% better. Well, leave it to me to come up with it on my own! 

What You'll Need

8 oz whipped cream cheese

8 oz low-fat vanilla yogurt

1 packet Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid

¼ cup sugar

Blend it all together, and chill it in the fridge for an hour pre-party. Serve with all of your favorite fruits!

Will The Real [Sleaze] Please Stand Up?

Well, speaking of a side of smack-a-bitch...Man, I just can't leave well enough alone. When you start going on this journey of healing and therapy and therapy and healing, you start to realize (well, I have anyway) that there is a gigantic path of destruction behind you. It's like you've been this tornado for years upon years. You've destroyed all these relationships, all these people...and at the end, you're standing alone in a field wondering what the fuck happened and where everyone went.

That's why I needed to start this journey. Toxins are so nasty, right? I mean, they infect every area of your life, essentially. So, I grew up with a shitty parent (sometimes 2). This parent treated me like crap, and I lashed out. I lashed out at him, but that didn't get me anywhere. So, I just continued to be destructive in other relationships instead. I was taking out my resentment and anger on the wrong people. I was blaming people for things that were completely out of their control and, frankly, that they didn't even know existed. How could they? I didn't even really know...

So, before I get to the point in my life where I'm completely alone, I am glad that I am waking up. I'm glad that I am realizing that if I don't cut the crap that I will be flying solo.

So...there was this guy. I was 17 years old. The moment that we laid eyes on each other, I just kinda knew. I just knew there was something magical about him and our connection. It sounds lame. It's romance movie stuff, really. It's that moment in time where the universe pauses. You take a deep breath, and you realize that you're not dreaming. This was the first time that I saw his smile. His smile changed my life forever. I chose to go to a college because of that smile. Looking back, I totally made a decision to go to a college for a boy. A boy. Sure, the school was gorgeous, the weather was beautiful, palm trees were everywhere, and it was far, far away from home. These things were all important, but I didn't even make it into the program for which I had auditioned. I chose Arizona because of this guy. He was my tour guide. Well, I guess he did a damn good job, right?!

Anyway, for some reason, we had this crazy connection. We stayed in touch and developed a long distance relationship. It was unavoidable. We were put together, and that's just how it was. I remember coming home from visiting him once, and I had his letters...his fraternity letters. This is like completely forbidden, right? I was on the plane, wearing his sweatshirt and just drinking in his scent. My feelings were so intense that I can almost still smell it if I try. I have the most wonderful and fantastic memories of our relationship. I really do. At the same time, though, there was something that was wrong. I am not sure if it was timing or if there was something else, but something happened.

I was ready to move forward, and he wasn't. He was enjoying the "college life," living with his friends/brother, partying, and just generally being able to be free (I think). I remember in the beginning that his feelings scared him. He wasn't looking for a girlfriend, and by no means was I looking for a long distance college-aged boyfriend when I was 17. The thing was, though, that I wanted something that he either didn't want or he just wasn't ready for it. Back then, I just blamed it on him. I assumed he was cheating on me. I even had a scapegoat. It was a rivalry that was completely unnecessary had I been confident, sure of myself and our relationship. Unfortunately, I wasn't. It completely ate at me, and I ended up sabotaging the relationship.

Years have passed, and over the years we have crossed paths. I have had some pretty fucked up shit happen to me, both by no fault of my own and some completely my doing. In crossing paths with him, I was vindictive. I was horrible. I remember once he called me a monster. The sad thing was that he was completely right. I was a monster. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the way that I had felt back when he hurt me, even though I'm not so sure that I didn't do it to myself. I hurt him to a point that I don't deserve forgiveness.

It's maddening that someone can still get to you after that many years. I sent him a message, though, and I asked if he'd be willing to have a conversation with me via email. Unfortunately for me, he read "Photoshop for Life" first. I totally called him a sleaze in that entry. My mouth has always gotten me into trouble. That experience, though, was so confusing for me. He lied to me. My mother lied to me. They both wanted it to be a surprise that he was coming to my graduation, and when I saw him there as I was walking down the steps after receiving my diploma...the Universe paused again. It was as if a knife had just been driven into my back right then and there. I was so happy and at the same time, I felt completely betrayed. I was told he couldn't make it because his grandmother had passed away. This is the second time I've been told that someone has died in order to deceive me, in case we're counting. I'm not even going to try to excuse what I said about him, the same way there's no excuse for my calling one of my now good friends a homewrecking whore. It was hurtful...and clearly, I was wrong.

Here's the thing, though. I just wanted to extend the olive branch. I wanted him to know that I get it. I totally understand that I was terrible to him at times. Screw the knife in the back; I plunged it directly into his heart and stood there and watched him bleed. I feel awful about it. I don't expect him to forgive me, but I just thought it was important that he knows that I know that I fucked it up. So this is why I sent him the email. I wanted to ask him if he was willing to hear me out...and he heard me loud and clear...It just wasn't what I really wanted to say to him. He knows how to scold me, though. He knows exactly what to say to me to really put me in my proverbial place.

So, he said "There is a deep chasm between the [woman] who earned such a treasured spot in my mind, and the woman I occasionally crossed paths with in the years following our relationship.
It's easy for me to distinguish between the two...One will always be ardently remembered throughout my life, which only occurs when a great love is shared. The other, post-relationship woman is so different as to not even be the same person."

I know this is coming from a place of hurt. I know that he has no idea of any of the pain that I have encountered to get to where I am today. He really only knew me for a sliver of my life, and truthfully, I wasn't even self-aware at that point. My mom has often said a similar thing to me regarding the person I was before versus the person I am now. She'll say that me 5 years ago would have gotten upset, screamed, went off the deep end, etc. had something happened, but today I am calm in the face of conflict and am able to take criticism for what it is. I hate the notion that I am a different person, though. It really gets to me. I'm the same person, but I have grown. That's the purpose of life. We make mistakes, we learn from them (hopefully), and we are better for it. 

The interesting thing about what he wrote to me is that he is completely right. He's right and yet sooooo completely off-base that it's nearly comical. The person that I was when I was with him was a person who was lost. I was a person who was looking for a guide. I needed that then. I needed someone to hold my hand and show me the world. I needed a person to show me what I could be, what I was capable of becoming. Unfortunately, he wouldn't see the fruits of his labor. It wasn't within me at the time, and the time that passed between then and now he hasn't been a part of my life. He doesn't realize that the post-relationship woman that I am now is so much more than I ever imagined I could be. I am strong. I am humble. I am hardened and yet still sympathetic. I am aware that I am flawed, and back then I could do no wrong. I am patient. I am forgiving. I am kind...I am willing to swallow my pride and go "back to December" in order to ease the pain that I have caused him.

I remember saying that he was my puzzle piece. I fit perfectly into his arms. I felt like he was protecting me, and he really was. What neither of us realized at the time, though, was that he was protecting me from myself. So maybe he wasn't such a sleaze after all...Maybe I was the sleaze in sheep's clothing. Anyway, I truly hope that he will come to understand that though I may not be the person he loved then, I am a much better person because he loved me.

Here's to forgiveness...

The Destructive Power of the Apt Toddler

There are days that I wonder why I ever bother cleaning. These days have become abundant with having 2 small monsters running circles around me. I have avoided cleaning for a few weeks, mainly because of the family chaos, but I made a commitment to my very patient and loving Hubby that I would make an effort this week. That said, it seemed to be a fruitless one.

The toddler is a very adept creature. She is reminiscent of the Tasmanian Devil. My little monster is the fastest, most destructive toddler I have ever encountered...and I was a nanny for several years before having my own children. I really thought it would prepare me for being in the trenches...Not. So.

Anyway, last night was quite a treat. Mind you, I'm not talking about a chocolate-covered strawberry DQ Blizzard type of treat. I'm talking about a marathoner. I nursed the Little Monster at 7:30pm, 10:00pm, 1:00am and gave in once again at 3:30am...Come 5:00am when she started her Siren song, I decided I had enough. I called for reinforcements: Hubby. A fat lot of good that did...as he brought her to me 5 minutes later saying that she refused a sippy of milk and a trot around the house. W.T.F. He practically flung her at me and proceeded to continue his reverie and chorus of snoring. Meanwhile, I was left with LM...and empty ya-yas. I rubbed her back until my arm went numb, and then I woke up Mr. Happypants and made him take LM back to bed. Thankfully, she stayed asleep until I had to take the Monster to preschool.

When I got back from dropping off the Monster, it was time to get to work. I had said that I would clean up the girls' rooms today since I had cleaned the kitchen and the not-so-great room yesterday. Little did I know what a task that would be. I was super tired when I got LM up this morning, with bags under my eyes that would clearly not fit in the overhead compartment of a 757. The bags under my eyes must have blinded me because when I got home to start on Little Monster's room, I was baffled.

I had to laugh. There was nothing else I could do. And then I brewed a second pot of coffee because it was clearly going to be a long day. Thankfully, she stayed out of my way long enough for me to pick it all up off the floor and put back into place. I also had more laundry to put away, and as I was doing that I found several Little People in various drawers of her dresser. I guess I should look at that as hope that she does intend to put things away, but she didn't know exactly where once she had destroyed the storage area entirely? The thing is, though, that as much work as it is to clean up after a toddler, it's worth it. They're only small for such a short amount of time...And these are the stories with which I can torture them and threaten that their children will be just as Tasmanian Devilish as they are :-)

Here's to the unforgettable moments...

Thirsty Thursday...With a Side of Smack-a-Bitch

So it's Thursday. I pretty much despise Thursday anymore because Hubby works until 7. This means that from dawn until bath time, I am the Big Kahuna, The Head Honcho, or whatever the fuck you want to call me. I think the more appropriate name would be: CRAZY. However, today was an especially fun Thursday. Big Monster's preschool class had a special presentation for Mother's Day today, and so I went to her school for that before lunch. It was adorable...and the worst part (yes, that's what I said) was that I just started my period yesterday, so my hormones are fucking out of control. They started to sing this song about how they are growing bigger everyday, and I almost lost it! Ugh. Yes, I get it. My baby is growing up...We don't need to sing a damn song about it!!! Anyway, it was super sweet, even though she's a total Indian giver and took my paper flowers back from me...

After that, I went home to clean. Boo. I hate cleaning, but our house was at the point where it actually looked like we lost a family member or two...so it was time to stop sulking and clean up the mess. It actually felt good to fold clothes, vacuum and wipe off the kitchen counters. It was, well...cleansing!
After cleaning, it was time to pick up the Monster from preschool, and then we headed to the mall. Hubby has an important meeting on Saturday, and so we needed to pick out some snazzy clothes for him to wear since all he owns are work uniforms, ripped jeans and t-shirts. Monster picked out his shirt, and she didn't do a bad job at all! Of course they both behaved, but that was due to the fact that I had bribed them with both food and playtime. We had a quick bite at the food court, and then it was off to the mall play area... <insert horror movie soundtrack here>

What the hell is wrong with parents these days?! I mean, honestly, I feel like some parents see what looks to be a "corral" of sorts, and so they think it's fair game for a hen session, reading time, or who the fuck knows what exactly. All I know is that I was following both of my little monsters around, meanwhile trying to play bodyguard and referee for the parents who weren't doing their jobs. I put up with it long enough for them to get out a good amount of energy, and then when a little Hispanic girl yelled at me in Spanish that my monster needed to "get in line over there" for the slide, I had enough. She was literally standing there yelling at me to get my monster to stand in a line that wouldn't have even existed had she just gone her bossy ass down the damn thing in the first place. That mother is lucky it's illegal to smack a bitch...because I would have.

Instead, I bribed my monsters with a cookie, and they were happy to leave the prison yard...I mean play area. Ugh. I am just happy to be home with a glass of Sangria and a helpful Hubby now...and please, readers, don't ever let me catch one of you not paying attention to your kids at the damn mall. You never know when I might actually lose it and smack a bitch. It could be you. Just sayin'.

Here's to Thirsty Thursdays...

Forgive This!

I want to talk about forgiveness for a bit. Since I am on a 'healing' kick lately, I want to talk about that. I want to explore what it means in theory, in practice, and whether or not it's actually a practicality. I always wonder why people say to forgive and forget. I understand the forgiving part, but why am I expected to forget? And can one actually forget what needed forgiving? We are shaped by our past experiences, both good and bad. So, if I was to forget something that has shaped me, it would make me less of who I am. I might also forget any lesson that was learned in the process...And since life is a journey and a learning process, I am not so keen on that idea.

So forgiving is is the renunciation or cessation of resentment, indignation or anger as a result of a perceived offense, disagreement, or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution. There are a lot of pretty strong words in that sentence. Honestly, there is a lot of negativity in not so many words. I think there are several things of note in the concept of forgiveness itself. First, there is the perceived offense. Please understand that by saying perceived, one recognizes that the party who feels offended, whether it was intentional or not, it is said party's reality. Perception is reality to that individual. It is a means of discovery through our 5 senses. The second part to forgiving is letting go of the need for justice. In other words, you are letting go of everything negative with regard to the perceived offense. So you are letting go of the anger and hurt as well as the need for justice. So how do we get there?

Well, the Bible would say that you just go. Christians are taught to forgive out of obedience to their Lord. Matthew 18:21-22
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."
Is this practical? Does that actually work? This idea implies that we let go of the anger, resentment, hurt and need for any justice without needing anything in return. The offender is not required to acknowledge, take responsibility or even apologize in order to be forgiven. I'm not a person to hold a grudge, but damn, that seems rather insane, if you ask me. (Note to self: add to list of reasons why I no longer practice the Christian faith). I have no problem forgiving someone for hurting me, but they damn well better realize they did it and do something about it. Without acknowledging that we have been hurt or offended, I don't really think it's possible for those feelings to dissipate. Maybe that is just me, but to me, it's a recipe for disaster. I wouldn't think it would be healthy for Hubby and I to have a disagreement, he throws a dish or 2 at me, and then later I just "forgive" him. I put that in quotes because without Hubby recognizing that he probably shouldn't have thrown the damn dishes in the first place, I wouldn't be able to let go of the hurt. If Hubby doesn't apologize or acknowledge his action was offensive, I'm pretty sure things like that would continue to happen, which wouldn't be very helpful to our relationship.

That being said, let me put this into context for you in a case where it is possible to forgive someone and actually heal and move forward. I'm not saying to forget, mind you. I am saying to forgive and move forward. My ex husband and I separated near the end of 2006. It was so hard for me. I remember going to lunch with him at Chili's (I hated Chili's) when the final decision was made. I drove down from Phoenix, where I was staying with a friend and working. I ordered the Cajun chicken pasta. That's how vivid my memory is of that moment. I remember we just didn't have much to say to each other. We'd spent so much energy arguing and fighting and disagreeing that we had nothing left. I wanted to work it out. I really did. I think I wanted to work it out, though, for all the wrong reasons. The first one that comes to mind? There's that voice in my head saying, "I knew it wouldn't last. You guys had no idea what you were getting yourselves into...you are too young..." #FAILURE. I didn't want to work it out because I was in love with him. I wanted to work it out because I wanted to do something right. However, he didn't. He told me no, and that was that. I was just completely baffled. I felt abandoned, alone, like a scared little girl in the middle of an amusement park having just lost her mother...Like there were thousands of people scurrying along...and my mother was nowhere in sight. I couldn't believe it...But it happened.

He filed for divorce In July of 2007. I'll never forget that day. I started smoking that day. I got the divorce papers in the mail, went to the liquor store...and sat out front getting wasted and smoking. What the hell else was I supposed to do, right? I mean, it wasn't even that I wanted to get back together with him at that point. It was the finality. That was it. It was really done. I signed my name, and there goes my marriage. It was another tick mark on the failure chart of life. It was a tumultuous summer for me, and during that time was when I made the brilliant choice to enter the military. It's so funny because I think a lot of people do that...Like, hey, I am in the middle of a complete mindfuck right now. I think I'll join the military to take my mind off that! I say that now, and it sounds absolutely ridiculous. It actually was pretty fucking ridiculous. I thought I could run away to the military the way that people run away to the circus. I mean, the difference here though, is that the circus is meant to be fun. The military is basically legal cruel & unusual punishment. And, as you may have read from a recent entry, that was an epic fail as well. I mean, looking back, I'm not surprised at all. There is no way I was mentally fit enough to handle that kind of shit. Although, I'm not sure anyone is...

So anyway, 3 weeks before I left for boot camp, I found out from a mutual friend that my ex husband's girlfriend was pregnant. Well, if that wouldn't send me into a downward spiral, I'm really not sure anything could. It was horrible. I cried for a week straight. I didn't even know what to do with myself. I was so stricken with grief for several reasons. For one, if the divorce papers weren't final enough, I'm pretty sure a baby would solidify that. Second, I wanted a baby. He didn't. He said he wasn't ready, that we weren't ready. It was a huge reason that our marriage fell apart. And finally, of all people in this world that could have been having his baby, it was her. It was the one girl that he had talked about for the entire term of our relationship. It was the girl who looked like me. It was the girl that he had spent 6 months of his life crying after they had broken up, who had kept him from sleeping in his own bed for that entire time. Of course I had to lose to her. I had suspected there was something going on between the 2 of them before we had split. He had been talking to her online, and I didn't want him to be doing that. I knew that if there was one person who could get between us, it would be her. So, this news of the baby confirmed that for me...

Fast forward to this past December 2011. I have an Ebay store, and I'm selling children's clothes. It has been going really well, and I enjoy it. Well, as I was closing out some of my auctions, I saw her name. She had bought a dress from me. I almost threw up on my keyboard. What. The. Fuck. Paranoia and anxiety immediately welled up inside of me, and I called for Hubby to come and see. There was her name. There was their address. I thought for sure this was some sort of stalking venture. I thought for sure it was some way of just trying to get to me. Now that I am typing that, it sounds crazy to me. Yeesh. Anyway, I text messaged my ex and asked him if I could just cancel the transaction. I just couldn't do it. They both got a good laugh out of it. Meanwhile, I was having a panic attack and an Asthma attack at the same fucking time over this shit. Apparently, I had failed to let go of something.

She ended up leaving me negative feedback on Ebay, and it rather pissed me off. I felt like I had done nothing wrong, other than kindly asking to cancel the transaction. She mistakenly thought that I had relisted the dress at double the price, but I had just listed it for the price she would have paid with free shipping. Anyway, she wasn't happy; I wasn't happy...and I basically called her a homewrecking whore on Ebay. SHAME ON ME. We got into a conversation of Facebook about it, and I learned the truth. It was an extremely coincidental turn of events that had happened, and she didn't know my side of the story either. I felt awful for doing what I did, and thankfully, it was able to be undone. She felt bad, too, and we both corrected our mistakes. I sent her a box full of clothes for her little girl, in hopes that it would make up for the dress that I refused to sell her. And now? We are becoming great friends. She has been so incredibly kind to me, and she didn't have to be. We have truly forgiven each other...And how did we get there? Well, it damn sure wasn't by glossing over the details and choosing just to forget anything.

We both recognized the hurt that we caused each other...We apologized for it, and we won't do it again. Brooke, your kindness and compassion will never be forgotten. You have been an amazing friend to me, and I look forward to what the future holds for us and for both of our families. I am so thankful that we were able to rectify our situation, as I am sure that it has been helpful for both of us. Though our friendship shouldn't even be possible, it is made possible through the promise of forgiveness, peace and love.

Here's to the Exes...

Damned If You Do...

So it's been an eventful few days...you know, the kind of days that have a person emptying a couple bottles of wine and popping Xanax like they're candy. The whole clusterfuck with my dad, well, that was a fail on my part. Part of me knew I shouldn't have sent the text. I just knew nothing good would come of it. It was my way of respectfully asking him to respect my boundaries...and there is no way to respectfully ask him to do anything that he has every intent of doing, the same way that there is no way of respectfully disagreeing with him. So, in the back of my mind, I had a feeling that it would explode...and it did. He's never been a man to disappoint.

Meanwhile, I received an invitation to my sister's wedding...I opened it up, took a picture...and sent it to the Goddesses.

They all had absolutely hilarious commentary for it, and I found it to be momentarily comforting. Some said it was the most complicated invitation they'd ever seen...Someone else asked, "is that a list of their favorite restaurants?!" And of course, there was the ever popular faux pas of including the registry card along with the invitation...At any rate, it was fun to enjoy a few laughs, though I did feel a bit guilty that it was at her expense. The bomb dropped, though, when one of the Goddesses posted a link to their wedding website...and a few of them posted comments on the virtual guest book saying things like, "you are so lucky to have such a great sister. I can't wait to see her and the girls dressed up," and "you and D deserve each other," just totally passive-aggressive attacks...As soon as I found out that they had done this, I told them they needed to remove them because I just knew it would come back to haunt me...Plus, I knew McHottie would shake is finger at me. Mainly, though, I knew she would completely flip out over it, and I was already dealing with enough bullshit from my father. Anyway, they couldn't delete their comments. #Fuckstick. The Goddesses were placing bets as to how long it would take for me to take a beating...and oddly, the beating never came.

Well, the beating never came my way...Instead, poor Mama Bear had to catch the heat...you know, since you can't argue with crazy. Keep in mind that I am clearly, way...waaay out there. Apparently, Mama Bear received several frantic text messages from my sister about Operation: Wedding Website wHackery...Needless to say, she thought it was completely inappropriate. In addition, there was a status update on the subject on D's page in which I was called out for being "evil," among other negative adjectives. I do think it's funny that I knew it would come back to me. I mean, all I did was post the damn photo of the invitation...I can't help it that my friends will stab someone in the eye to protect me! I mean, we honestly 150% have each others' backs. To them, the things they said needed to be said...and they knew that I would remain silent.

So Mama Bear tried to deflect a bit, although I knew it would fall on deaf ears. Clearly, I am manipulating anyone that is involved in my life in any way...because that makes sense. It's the only thing that could possibly explain why anyone would agree with me on anything. And truthfully, I am just blowing $200 for every session I spend with McHottie. I am just there to manipulate him as well. Dear readers, do any of you find this a logical thinking pattern? I certainly don't. If nothing else, I am not a person to waste my money. I will get every bloody dollar's worth of my time with McHottie...It's the only way I don't come home and hurl over the money that I hemorrhage every single time I sit on that green sofa. 

Speaking of the green sofa...I sauntered into Doc McHottie's office this morning with a small gift: some movie candy...because I didn't know what bon-bons are exactly, but I wanted to start out on a light note by telling him that my life is, quite obviously, a soap opera plot line. I'm not sure how much of a sense of humor he has, though, as he was more worried about my giving him "gifts"...I was like, "simmer down, McHottie...It's a joke." I did get him to crack a brief smile, but I don't think it had the desired effect. Either way, our session was a marathoner today. And, like a soap opera, it didn't have a happy ending...and it totally left me hanging.

We talked about some really interesting things, though, including his "boring" conversation with my cool-as-a-cucumber father. This was an interesting part, though, and I am really glad that he spoke with Father Crazypants. McHottie was also glad he spoke with him, although he did allude to the fact that Father Crazypants is rather "wordy." So, after we spoke about their conversation, I played McHottie the voicemail I received in response to my clearly disrespectful, manipulative and psychotic text message <insert sarcasm here>....I'm pretty sure his eyeballs nearly fell out of his gorgeous face...and then he said, "Well....That was insulting." I breathed a sigh of relief at that moment because it really gave me some validation as to my feelings on the matter. I was absolutely shaking like a Polaroid picture when McHottie told me how calm and collected Crazypants was. I would say that it was unbelievable, but it's not. So, in response to his comment on the voicemail, all I could muster was..."This is my life."

The session ebbed and flowed from there, back and forth between the latest conflicts between Crazypants and my sister. He asked me, "why are you here? What can I do to facilitate this for you?" I didn't know how to answer...and he said, "I get the feeling that you came here looking for a diagnosis...so that we could 'fix' you, and then you could take sole responsibility for the issues with your father and your sister and then have the relationships with them that you want..." BINGO, Doc. And that's why I pay you close to $200 an hour. I went there because I wanted to be the problem. I wanted to have some delusional mental disorder that causes me to behave irrationally, which is why I am being accused of being so. Unfortunately for me (I think?), that isn't the case.

I asked him what to do with the overly complex, under-cultured invitation...and then I proceeded to tell him my sadistic fantasies regarding it.
A. Send it back immediately, responding that we would decline, but it would look like this:
           4  Regretfully decline
B. Send it back with our regrets, along with a note saying that I would send a gift, but I can't afford it because my therapy is too fucking expensive.
C. Burn it. And then flush it down the toilet.

I asked him if it was wrong for me to have those feelings...and he kind of basically said that it isn't wrong to have those feelings because I am angry and hurt, but acting out on a couple of them, namely A & B, would be passive-aggressive and would not help me to my end goal, which is at this point, just to still the water. I told him that Mark suggested just not responding at all. McHottie said that he agrees that would be a good solution because "the best way to communicate that you don't want to communicate is by not communicating." Ahh-haa! So with that said, I think I will choose option C, minus the toilet. I have a bonfire coming up this weekend, and I am sure that invitation will make great kindling for some s'mores. I think it will also be cathartic for me...

So, in the meantime, I will just drown the drama in wine and dream of the next time I get to sit on the green sofa...

Here's to the trouble-makers (I'm looking at you, Goddesses)!

So Speaking of Crazy...

Sometimes I absolutely relish the mindless gossip and mama drama...It's so much more fun than actual real-life family drama. But, for most of you, my life is mindless mama drama. So, grab a cup of coffee (or a glass of wine) and enjoy...

My sister had her bridal shower just over a week ago...and I didn't go. In fact, I couldn't even stomach the thought of the damn thing. So what did I do? I hosted a girls' night, of course! It was tons of fun, and I got super trashed. It was perfect. I couldn't think about the shower because I was too busy prepping for the party, and then I was too busy getting wasted to care...

Monday morning, though, reality settled in as I prepared for my appointment with Doc McHottie. I told him about the party, about why I had it when I did and everything...and of course he asks me, "and how do you feel today?" And the answer was that I was curious...but I didn't look at photos that anyone had posted on Facebook, although I was tempted. I didn't feel that I had anything to gain from doing that. He told me that I am making incredibly difficult choices and that I'm never going to feel settled about them. It's true. I crave attachment...I want a sister, but I want a sister on my terms, the kind of sister that I have always dreamed would be there for me, a good sister...not this fucked up craziness that is apparently called "family." So it stung...That's how it felt...I felt like something bit me on Monday morning...and I needed something to ease the swelling. My session helped. Doc helped me realize that family doesn't have to be blood relatives. "The Goddesses can be your family," he said..."a sisterhood of sorts for you." The Goddesses are my friends; we aren't bonded by blood but instead, by choice. And it feels so incredible to have that bond that it's like the feeling of an ice pack on a mosquito bite. So my "sister" bit me...my Goddesses ease the pain and swelling. They help me heal. I walked out of his office as confident as ever, honestly. It is worth every penny that I pay...and I went on with my week.

We had our spring garage sale, and Hubby took a couple days off work to join me in that endeavor. I love that he does this because it gives us time to really talk and connect. It sounds lame, but it is so true! It's actually quality time for us. We even went to a friend's house for a cook-in (bad weather) on Saturday evening. There were lots of laughs and smiles, and it was heavenly...until Sunday.

Sunday, we found out that my father had called my MIL...GREAT. Worse yet, she seemed to have a guilty conscience and didn't want to share much about the conversation, other than saying that he called her to check in on us...and the girls, of course. Riiiight. Well, I happen to know his game, and I also happen to know that my MIL is a full-blooded Italian that likes to chat. Put the 2 together, and it's a recipe for too much fucking information. At any rate, after finding this out, my dumb ass (sucker, or whatever other noun you'd like to insert) sent him a text message:

"Please do not contact [Hubby]'s family and involve them in something that is none of their business. You put [MIL] in a very awkward and uncomfortable position."

THAT WAS IT. That was all I said...And I got a nearly immediate phone call, which I did NOT dare answer. And he left this voicemail:

http://smsvoice.sprint.com/playnote.do?aid=vn60cee17a263961683f5c89e30c25ac5513d0095b321553a090915cdd8ff425a8

Transcribed: "you know you play some really cute games you know that? If I want to talk to Mark's parents, I will talk to them at any point in time I want. I hope that you get the help that you need cause you are obviously way way out there..."

Awesome, right?! So...Hubby was NOT happy with this at all, and he decided to "fight for my honor," for lack of a better term. He sent a text to my father as well:

"Games huh? Like you calling my mother? Have a nice talk about how it is "your turn?" Did you tell her how much help [DomesticGoddess] needs, because she is the problem? You have some nerve. The reason [DomesticGoddess] needs help is because of you. So you can pull your bullshit and make it out like [she] has a problem to everyone else, but I suggest you look in the fucking mirror. If she needs help, you need more..."

He has my father set to go straight to voicemail, and he received a lovely greeting as well:

http://smsvoice.sprint.com/playnote.do?aid=vnc0cb2cc8a3cbb5ea54d116a7fa7b997a4890f0751375b7fbe14d111d216c8b78

Transcribed: "you know men generally talk man to man...but I can see that you're definitely not that, huh? Uh, you know, talkin like that to me? You stepped over the edge now, buddy...just so you know that. Be careful what bridges you burn in your life...all right?...Someday..you're gonna look back and regret this, but it's okay. I understand...because I was young and stupid once too. So...good luck to you...and God bless. I'll be sending Hayden's insurance papers in the mail to you..you can take care of that for your family. and we will not be contacting YOU. And..the real problem is...everyone else around you has been treated this way, and they understand it and they're afraid of your wife. But you know what? I'm not really afraid. Have a happy life..."

My father told Hubby that I have him [hubby] brainwashed, and I am manipulating Dr. McHottie. He said he'd looove to have the number for my therapist so he can tell him "the real story." So I had Hubby give my father the name and number of Dr. McHottie...and HE ACTUALLY CALLED HIM!!! I totally didn't think he would do it...McHottie asked me what he should say/do, and I told him it was fine to confirm that I am his patient...and I have an appointment with McHottie on Thursday....Stay tuned, folks!

Here's to the crazies...