How goes it? What is new?

Life is hectic. I am missing 1/2 of me. He has taken a trip that has left us all kinda in limbo for a 90 day period. Read between the lines. If you know anything about me, you will get it. Furthermore, I am financially fucking strapped. My new job kicks all sorts of ass (i.e. me and Tarable kicking our bosses asses on a consistent basis) but like I have said before, it is slow to start money-wise. Therefore, I am creatively surviving. If you know of any ways to make money (other than selling my pretty vagina which again if you know anything about me I am not necessarily opposed to, given the circumstances) and legitimately please let me know. Thanks.

Moving on.

What is most awesome about my job is the limitless fun we have. Granted, there are a couple of people that I would absolutely LOVE to 1) punch in the face and 2) see get fired or 3) quit but that goes with any job.

Especially MakesHerOwnClothes broad. That bitch has no clue. None. She consistently assumes that I am in fact the motherfucking one when I am actually NOT the one. Like, so not the one that it isnt even funny. She runs around thinking she is so fucking great, when in all honesty, she is so far from great that it is comical.

It took me everything not to fuck her up on Monday. Why do ignorant people get to pull off the dumbest fucking things and GET AWAY WITH IT?!

Example: I am mid conversation when she runs up and elbows me out of the way, INTERRUPTS my conversation only to start a conversation with the person I was having a motherfucking CONVERSATION WITH.

Um. Really?

1) I was in front of the HR office.
2) I need my job.
3) It would be kinda silly to beat her ass in the middle of my place of employment.

Even thought I reeeeeeeeeeeeeally fucking wanted to. Like, R E A L L Y.

/sigh.

It sucks being an adult sometimes. Given my temper. Given my complete and total gangsterness that pumps through my veins on a daily motherfucking basis.

Sometimes. I. Just. Want. To. Freely. Beat. The. Shit. Out. Of. Stupid. Bitches.

She is lucky that I have 2 little baby bird’s mouths to feed. She is also really lucky that I respect my bosses and value their opinions as much as I do. This takes me back to my blog about adulthood and how sometimes it would really be nice to have a free punchabitchintheface card. Or a day a year where you can just punch people freely in the face and have absolutely NO consequences.

Who is with me?

I motherfucking thought so.

Who would YOU like to punch in the face right now?

When is the last time you played the air guitar?
What’s the weirdest thing you have done while driving?
Have you ever called out the wrong name while having sex?

This week we are talking about Houseparty’s. Some Tony Toni Tone style, Bilal, Kid N Play Houseparty.

What? You aren’t knowin’?
You didn’t think that I knew?

Don’t make me bust out the infamous “Kid N Play” dance.

As I was saying, what ever happened to these parties? Where the refrigerators are packed to the brim with 40 oz’s of malt liquor and the bitches were running around naked all while a Dr. Dre/Snoop Dogg song played as the soundtrack?

Anybody? Bueller?

I remember a time where so’n’so would tell a friend and that friend would tell another friend who would tell 5 friends who would tell 5 more friends (including me) about a dope kegger going on that weekend. When we would show up fashionably late there would be some poor parents house, full of drunken adolescents. The music was loud. The alcohol was flowing like the Snoqualmie Falls after a good rain. There was fucking going on in bedrooms and dark corners of the house. It was good music. Fun people, except for when 2 really drunk friends decided they hated each other for 5 minutes and wanted to fistfight in the middle of the fucking kitchen over some stupid bitch with no ass and over-sized titties.

Yep I went there.

I don’t miss any of THAT. What I do miss is walking into a party full of people that I don’t or barely know with a nice buzz going on. I want to mingle. I want to laugh at other’s drunken-ness. I want to blend and enjoy not being known in a social environment that is BYOB, not charge $9 a drink at the bar. A place where the DJ is the homie so I can go up to him and request an old school Lost Boyz song and he not only KNOW WHAT SONG I AM TALKING ABOUT but motherfucking HAVE THAT SHIT ALREADY QUEUED TO PLAY.

I want to find a random girl OR boy to make out with. Just like, walk up to him/her and fucking “blalalalalallalala” their face with my face all immature like.

I want to watch a fight break out.

I want to see a girl and a guy break up. (whatever I am callus like that)

I want to see some fuckin.

Or maybe I just want to be young and without responsibility again. Either way, I miss a good house party.

What is the awesomest house party you ever hosted/attended?

Who do you truly admire?
Would you really rather go naked then wear fur?
Who are on your “List” of hotties that you would fuuuuuuuuuuuuck if given the opportunity to?

So I will go first. You will then read, judge me (yes you will) and then purge your own brutal honesty. Be anonymous if you like. I don’t care. It will feel better to say something honest rather than keep it in and lie to yourself and others forever.

I wont judge. Much. *winkwinkwink*

On this Tuesday, I will admit that I am not as mean, brash, hard core as I may like to come across to others.

Shut up.

Look. I will beat a bitch down if I am 1) instigated against 2) drunk enough and provoked 3) in the mood to.

It is true. I am not a tough girl. All of the time anyway. Don’t get it twisted though. I am not scared of no bitch no how. (It is serious enough to have an intentional grammatical error in my blog to irritate most of you reading it.)

This is the thing though.

I am not young. I seem to have adapted this ability to “assess the situation” with my oldER age of 30. Meaning, if a bitch is all disrespectful like in my face or anyone’s face around me that I give a shit about … I have begun to make a decision based on factors.

FACTORS. Who in the fuck makes a decision based on FACTORS?! Oh that’s right. Adults do. Adults who apparently need to set an example for their offspring do. I have been handed this memo certified letter style by D to remind me of my temper/mouth/flailing fucking fist on too many an occasion.

This memo reads something like this:

Dear Wifey,

You should reconsider your hot headed-ness in the following situations:

1) Grocery stores. (That bitch really was that dumb. I promise. It wasn’t an intentional jam on your ankle with her grocery cart)

2) Public FAMILY gatherings. (It is possible that parents of other offspring do not know what the fuck they are doing. You YELLING it across multiple children in profane verbiage is not appropriate. Yes I agree with you. SILENTLY)

3) In the car. (There are kids in the car with you. THE BITCH CANNOT HEAR WHAT A CUNT SHE IS ON THE FREEWAY IN ANOTHER VEHICLE! Your children however, can hear. When Charli uses the word cunt in front of people … I guarantee you will be mortified.)

Please adhere to the above mentioned guidelines promptly to avoid me laying the smack down on your vulgar ass.

Love, D.

Hmph. So what you are saying is, that I am too old to be vulgar? NEVAH! I get it though. If I want my kids to grow up with more tack than I have, I need to put a mild cork in it. Fine. Fine D. You win this time. But let me get drunk enough around NO KIDS or POLICE or BOUNCERS. SAY I WONT GOD DAMNIT!

Also, along with the not being tough admittance for this Honest Tuesday … I will confess a little about my non-toughness. I am sure all of you beezos will get a big fat kick out of it too.

1) I cry at that one State Farm Commercial where a young M.J. is singing “I’ll Be There” at the very beginning. Every. Single. Time. Single tear styles.

2) When Xavier and Charli hug one another, I cry. Like a baby.

3) I cry at chick flicks.

4) Puppies and kitties melt my heart. So do babies. And love. And sentimental gestures. And poetry. And corny pop songs. Sometimes I cry about one or more of these things.

5) I cry after really great sex.

6) I like to do stupid things for people I like. For instance, every Valentines Day, I buy the little Valentine cards and leave them on my co-workers desks. Or I bring the ladies in my life daisies. Or I draw love notes on the fog in the bathroom for X or D to tell them that I love them when they get out of the shower.

See? Not tough. I am a big fucking sap actually.

Shhhh. No one can ever know this secret about me. Keep it between us, K?

What is your Honest Tuesday Confession???

What turns you off about the opposite sex?
What country would you like to visit most? Why?
Would you give a homeless person CPR?

My parents weren’t go-out-and-do-shit parents. Meaning, you know how there are those one parents where every weekend they had this hike or that museum planned to go and do? Yeah. My parents weren’t those parents. For most of my youth, we were poor so it was hard to do stuff.

Looking back I could say that I wished that they were those parents. But I don’t. Not really. We have never really been ‘that family’. We did go and do things. The things we did do were fun times. So I like the fact that what we did meant something… because I think that, from the outside looking in … many of those families are not happy ones behind closed doors. Generally speaking anyway.

(Yes I am aware that this is not all cases and that there are those truly happy 50’s white picket fence chocolate chip cookies when you got home from school families.)

When I was really little my dad drove truck so he was gone during the week a lot of the time. I remember missing him a great deal, and I think that him being gone is the main reason why I was drawn to him the way that I was. I would wait and wait to see or hear his semi truck pull up outside and run as fast as my little feet could move me across the gravel into his bear-arms.

I have always thought that my dad was the coolest dad on the planet.

I remember this one time when he came home, he wanted to take me and my mom out to dinner. As promised, we went to dinner in his truck. When we got there, he came around to get me out of the passenger side. I was so small then; the length of the step from the truck to the bottom step seemed a mile long. I blindly, and in an excited hurry grabbed the steam/exhaust pipe instead of the handle.

I can still feel the pain on the palm of my hand when I think about it to this day.

I screamed and cried as he rescued me and rushed me into the restaurant where I promptly placed my hand in a big glass of ice water. He sat right next to me and told me jokes to try and make me forget about the burn.

“How about I punch you in the other arm. You won’t feel your hand then.”

We used to wrestle.
He used to give me “Monkey Bumps” cause he thought that shit was funny.
He helped me with my math homework. I really suck at math.
He likes to sing. He has a pretty good voice.
He tried to get me to golf. I sucked.
My dad taught me how to drive.
He made me walk to the store when I got my period to buy tampons.
We fish. A lot less than I would like, but…

As I grew into into me, only a hormonal teenager, we began to beef on a daily basis. I don’t know where the rift began, but I know where it ended: When I moved out. He and I are so much alike that it is frightening. Our strong personalities under one roof with one of them being an authoritative figure was like mixing oil and water.

I pushed, he pushed harder. I yelled, he yelled louder. I slammed doors, he slammed harder. But when push came to shove, I knew that he loved me. Maybe that is why I pushed so hard. Maybe … that is why he pushed back that much harder.

Would I change it? Nah. I think that all of the tumultiousness that was our father daughter relationship made us that much more awesome today. He has put up with a great deal of shit with me and my wanting-to-do-it-the-hard-way every time.

When I enlisted in the Navy, and actually followed through with leaving for boot camp,and then tech school… and then a ship… I think that he realized that there was something within me that I actually took away from the things he used to preach to me as a kid. When I returned home, and saw him for the first time, wrapped in his bear-arms again, I truly felt like a little girl again and I remembered that I loved him. We just kinda fell into something pretty great from that moment.

But it wasn’t perfect. *I* wasn’t that great of a daughter all of the time.

I got married before D and didn’t tell my parents until afterward. My selfish ass didn’t consider that maybe my dad wanted to walk me down the isle.
I got my dad fired from Metro. (I didnt know at the time) He had bags of bus fare in his room to turn in, and I stole so.much.change. What I didn’t know, is that he almost faced criminal charges for it. (I later found this out after jokingly telling him that I was the one who stole the change)
The cops were called to my house several times. Because of my fight instigation.
I am pretty sure that I told my dad that I hated him angrily… one time too many.

Above all, my dad has always embraced me for me. He has expressed his thoughts as to who he thought that I should become, but understood (after some adjustment) and accepted who I chose to be and how I chose to live my life and conduct my business. I think that I can say that he is proud of me.

But most importantly, my dad is an honest man. He treats my mom with the utmost respect. My dad (thinks he) is funny. He lives life with an “it is what it is” motto. He isn’t perfect, but he always stands up for what is right and what he believes in. I may not like it at the time… but that doesn’t matter. I know when I call him and I ask him for his advice, he is gonna give it to me. No sugar coating. No bullshit. None of it.

And that is more than I can say for most people in the world.

What kind of relationship do you have with the dad in your life?
Have you ever done something that made your dad burst with pride?
What is the worst thing you ever did as a teen/kid and got busted for?

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