Right this very minute, I literally cannot find one teensy tinesy thing about which to gripe, grouse or groan...I am perfectly content to be lazily lounging poolside, bathed in sunshine and lighthearted banter. Meanwhile, my kids are frolicking nearby with their own friends under the watchful eye of our attentive lifeguard, Kevin...(god love him!) Adding to the transcendent tableau is the fact that I am mere moments away from mixing my very first cocktail of the day. And guess what? The forecast predicts a three month long continuation of this idyllic sojourn, to be spent right here in my own, tiny town - yet far away from the tedium of cold, dark days, endless packing of school lunches, sporting piles of bulky clothing and clocking in and out of the daily grind. Come Autumn? Shit will predictably revert back to a less palatable version of humdrum and ho hum, but for the time being, I am basking in this desirable display of vacuous decadence.
And Speaking of vacuous decadence...Way back, 10 years ago or so, when I was a happily married, financially secure, stay-at-home-mommy, my station in life afforded me the luxury of setting a precedent to which I now - post-divorce - shakily persevere to still adhere. Since abandoning my marriage, I make the necessary sacrifice in order to stay home with me kiddles during the summer. I forgo enrolling them in endless camps and/or daycare which, if they went, would allow me to stay on at whatever "job" I might currently be slaving for some piddly-ass $10/hr. wage. Consequently though, I am forced to limp along on even more negligible fundage than most of the rest of the year. And because my summertime income doesn't even come close to covering our general living expenses, to say that we exist "hand to mouth" during these months, is quite the understatement. I can always count on getting way behind on my bills and by the end of the summer, my phone line will be inundated with calls from unfamiliar area codes, presumably utility providers and credit card companies trying to collect something...anything, that they might apply to my disastrously delinquent accounts. Last summer, after Directv had no other option but to cut off our service, the kids and I attempted to mask our dismay by adopting the mindset that NOT having television, might not necessarily be such a bad thing...right? Pseudo-positive attitudes notwithstanding, it was apparent that every one of us found the loss of this basic privilege to be more of a stigma and an embarrassment, than an inconvenience. This summer won't be much different, I'm afraid. I will only be working for my beloved elderly couple, on the one day during the week that my ex keeps the children, making the pittance that I will be bringing home, hardly worth the gas consumption and hour's worth of travel time to get there and back. But you know? I sincerely enjoy the gig and the folks for whom I toil and therefore, I shan't complain about making a brief, weekly appearance in exchange for a little coin and more time with my kids. Also...I am determined to be most efficient with the plethora of extra time that I will be spending at home, carving out hours-long chunks of every day (which I will gleefully spend here...in front of my trusty ole Mac) plunging ever deeper, into the receding world of online dating in the hopes of dredging up something noteworthy about which to blog. I am geared up to grit my teeth behind an upbeat smile, as I muddle through the next 3 months of financial strife. Nothing, not even poverty, will prevent me from relishing my summer of dating and writing, and hangin' wif my kids and my tight-knit group of loyal friends...(you buyin' it?)
And speaking of "loyal" friends...I felt wounded for only about a nanosecond, upon learning that someone - who I've apparently erroneously believed to be a genuine friend as well as a staunch supporter and promoter of my blog - was instead a fountainhead of vituperation in regards to me, my blog AND my hair color. Rumor has it that the perpetrator (I'll call her Miss B.S......short for Miss Backstabber among other things) is on some sort of campaign (along with her equally two-faced sister) to dissuade random folks from reading my "trampy" blog, citing the content - too trashy for general human consumption. I have to admit, that after I digested the recounted derision, the betrayal was not actually all that surprising to me. I've been warned that you can't trust her as far as you could throw her, so I shoulda seen this coming, long ago. But then again, I do tend to be a "benefit of a doubt" kinda gal. My consistent bad judgement of character has turned around and bitten me right in the ass cheek, innumerable times before. You know though, it's really ok...I feel good that I never wasted my breath on her in my Big Ugly Blog ('til now, that is). And following this - her 15 minutes of Big Ugly fame - she'll have gotten herself officially written out of the script, for good! Frankly, washing my hands of this "friendship", is no skin off my back. I don't have a problem with trimming the friend fat, a little...the fewer, the truer...the better.
And speaking of my hair color...ok fine, so I dyed my hair a fucked up color, but what the hell difference does it make to HER, anyway? Answer me that! And...even though I don't really NEED to explain why I did it..I shall...There are several reasons why I dyed my hair navy blue:
#1.) It's a freaking free country and I can do whatever the fuck I so desire - to my own person
#2.) I had my hair this same color, for a short period of time 20 years ago...and I loved it...I've always wanted to have it that way, again
#3.) I was on this whole, "Fuck online dating" kick for a spell, and figured that since it appeared that there was nobody left on the planet for me to date, what better time to fulfill a nagging desire, eh? (But then again, what if I reverse jinx myself, in the process? Like, say after all of this languorous online dating downtime, I finally stumble upon the most amazing guy ever...But then tragically, it turns out that he's not the kind of fella to dig on some bizarre, "blue-haired old lady"...)
And speaking of amazing guys...I've been loosely communicating with Lars over the past 3 months or so....The other night, while IM'ing me for the first time ever, he ended up asking me out. (Hot damn! A real live date...FINALLY!) The deal is this...I will drive an hour and a half into D.C. (and later, back home again) and once I arrive, Lars will squire me about the city. (Sounds like mama's getting the short end of the stick here, but whatev...) I have to admit that he did lose a bit of his "amazing guy" cred. when he cited that not owning a car was the reason that he needed me to do all of the driving...(Isn't that sorta strange? I mean, who doesn't own a car?) But who am I to judge...I've got problems of my own...namely the hair color dilemma. So, now I've gotta figure out how to handle the blue hair sitch. Like, do I come clean with Lars about my unusual choice of hair color prior to our date? Do I just show up and hope that he either doesn't notice or that he simply doesn't give a rip? Do I hope that by the time I go on the date, the color has faded dramatically and it'll have become a non-issue? Or do I do the suck-ass thing and dye it a "normal" more acceptable color? I'm half tempted to re-dye it an even more intense shade of blue just to thumb my nose at Miss B.S...Oh, and if you're reading this, could you kindly ask your kids to refrain from gluttonously gorging themselves on our pool snacks every time? Preesh...
And speaking of my date on Saturday night...it might now be a moot point.
I believe that I mentioned that I've recently become obsessed with a favorite new hobby - falling down flights of carpeted stairs. I've decided to have my friends film me performing the stunt on as many different staircases as absolutely possible and to then post the videos on YouTube with my blog address emblazoned across the bottom of screen, in the hopes of maybe generating a little more interest in the blog. Additionally, I added the link to my videos (and hence - the blog address) to my profiles on my favorite dating sites (a little risky, no doubt, since any guy that might end up reading the blog would most likely have zero interest in getting mixed up in my ongoing soap opera) I happen to know that Lars peeked at my profile soon after I made the new additions, and...surprise, surprise...I haven't heard from him since. It's entirely possible that I've run the guy off for good...
And speaking of having my friends videotaping me falling down stairs...My friends Willow, Curlymoe and a new, young buck - Tall Drink-o-Water - recently met me out at a venue with an exceptionally long, carpeted set of stairs. We all sat at the bar and chatted for a spell, preparing to film the big fall, during which time I got Tall Drink up to speed on the blog and it's general theme and candidly narrated a few of the more noteworthy stories. In the process, I think I unwittingly misled him into believing that since I portray myself as such an easy lay, that he himself might be getting lucky sometime in the near future, and possibly even make his own appearance in my Big Ugly Blog. But frankly, from the first minute that I saw him, I thought that he and Willow would make a very handsome couple (turns out...she did too!) and so even though he continually cast his line my way, I wasn't at all tempted to nibble on his worm...
Instead, I fell down the stairs a couple of times and canvassed the crowd, handing out business cards and talking up the blog. It cracked me up when a well-known, local socialite and her date, stopped me to tell me how much they liked my "look" (huuh?) and I said to the woman, "Hey, Sheryl! How are you?" She answered with a blank expression but when I told her that I was So-and-So's ex...the light bulb immediately went off (on?). Simultaneously, a light bulb went off (on?) with her beau as well, who upon learning that I blog about online dating, realized that not only had he viewed my profile, numerous times, but that he'd even sent me an email or two...I seriously did not recognize the guy and I apologized for not responding, at which time Sheryl chimed in, relieved, "Well I'm so glad that you didn't!"
My three friends and I closed down the bar, Willow said "Goodnight" and the two boys and I came back to my house for a nightcap. When it became obvious that Tall Drink was sticking around in the hopes of gettin' some, I pleaded with Curlymoe to back a sistah up and please take Tall Drink on home...Unfortunately, they were both totally hammered and I worried that if they drove away from my house, chances were better than good that they would end up wrapping their car around a tree and would I be able to live with that? Curlymoe, curled up on the couch with one of my pups and frickin' Tall Drink followed me up to my room, as I chanted over and over again, "We are NOT going to have sex! We are NOT going to have sex!"
And speaking of not having sex...The instant my fully-clothed body flopped onto my broken down bed right next to Tall Drink's fully-clothed body, the only thing that we did was fall fast asleep...no kissing...no snuggling...no fucking. Looks like mama's making good on her pledge to stay on the sex wagon...