Mama Gotta Bounce For a Bit...

Is it just paranoia, or does my blog seriously rub some people the totally wrong way? Dumb question, eh? I mean it's kind of a no-brainer that it would. After all...I cuss (a lot)...I am hyper-critical to a fault - of nearly everyone...and I do the most retarded shit imaginable and then advertise it here on the pages of the Big Ugly. This could explain the sudden surge in what now amounts to about a quiver's-worth of antipathetic arrows that have come zinging towards me, lately. Oddly enough though, none have had the accuracy to actually hit their mark. What I mean is - I can sense this vague undercurrent of contempt radiating from a few perturbed readers, and yet - not one of these detractors has had the balls yet, to come right out and share whatever beef it is that they have with me...(hahaha...share their beef...I like that) Just come up off it, already! I wanna hear you say what it is about the blog or me - that has triggered your agitation, haters. And hey seriously! If you don't like the goddamned thing...well then STOP READING IT, why dontcha!"

Might surprise you, but I am not a confrontational person - quite the contrary. Don't get me wrong though...if you can even GET me backed into a corner, trust me...you won't keep me there for long. But that's not to say that I don't appreciate people's honest opinions of me, I'm just not easily intimidated by their input - ESPECIALLY if it happens to be to my own discredit. In essence, I relish any opportunity to be critiqued and to subsequently stand by or when necessary - even denounce my questionable lifestyle choices, MYSELF. Unfortunately however, these virtually mute critics of late, don't have the courage to give me a fair shake to do either...all that I have gotten from them are weak, underhanded jabs...lame-o...

This negative vibe towards me and my blog does make me wonder though, if it's possible that I have taken this whole "Carousin' in the Country" thing a wee bit too far...perhaps my crescendo-ing deplorable behavior and oftentimes cruel assessment of others are indicative of what has become a grotesque lack of ethics and couth. Maybe I've sunk to such deep, dark depths of degradation that there is literally nowhere for me to go - but up...or out...

It's funny to me, how sometimes things really do just seem to happen for a reason...

So, sometime in late September, I stumbled upon this nifty thing called NaNoWriMo...or National Novel Writing Month. During the month of November, writers are challenged to scribe a 50k word long novel, doesn't matter how good or how awful...the "contest" is entirely about literally logging in the words...quantity over quality, at this stage in the game...I was immediately hypnotized by the thought of tackling such a formidable task and without hesitation, signed myself up to participate. One day at work shortly afterwards, my story began to present itself...I swear to god, the derned thing just came to me with like zero effort on my part...it felt as if it was TELLING itself to ME...and I'm not just saying that. Mere minutes after my novel began to unfold, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably upon realizing the tragic fate of my protagonist - and hurriedly dashed off to go hide in the pantry, for fear that John might walk in on my spontaneous emotional meltdown. It went on like that, throughout the day...I burst into tears while I cleaned the house, I dabbed my wet eyes while I fed Claudia, I sobbed in the car on the way to fetch my chlluns from school. When I finally got me and all of the kids home, later that night...I filled everyone in on the whole NaNoWriMo deal...including the premise of my story. I predicted ahead of time, that it would draw out more than a few tears from at least a couple of us...and it did. The poor little boogers got weepy before I'd even GOTTEN to the really sad part...yeah...it's like that...

Needless to say, I feel that I am strategically and mentally equipped to at least attempt this NaNoWrimo thing...but here's the catch...since I have no earthly concept of how time-consuming it will prove to be, I have gone back to my Summertime hours at work, planning on only showing up on Mondays for a 10 hr. shift, which SHOULD provide ample time to write, but who can say...I'll be poor as hell, but such is the sacrifice of an artist, right? Obviously my main priority will be to pen this novel, which I'm afraid will be much to the neglect of my social life as well as the Big Ugly. The timing couldn't be more perfect though really, what with the recent rise in my fucked up behavior and the resultant ill will. Might be beneficial for me to step away for a little while and let things simmer down a bit (and just when they're really starting to heat up again, too...dangit! But more on that in a minute...)

My dear sweet children seem genuinely excited about the NaNo project, for some reason - and they love my story despite it's gut-wrenching twist. I think that they just want - for once - to be able to be proud of me for accomplishing something that they or even their friends can enjoy (unlike my strictly off-limits-to-them - blog). Which brings up an added facet to the NaNo challenge...My kids have petitioned me to please try and write the book, without bunging it all up with my trademark foul language...they want me to prove to them that I can produce something devoid of distasteful content, even perhaps respectable enough to sit comfortably on the shelves next to all of those other widely accepted books...in their own school library...someday...maybe...

The reality is - that this may be the last entry for awhile, and just to change things up a little, and possibly leave you guys on a positive note - I've decided to try and finish this "sayonara" post following a couple of guidelines:

1.) attempt to appease the folks who it seems - would prefer that I "Do unto others...blah, blah, blah" by biting my tongue and avoiding verbally cutting everyone down to stumps, like so often I do...as well as tone down some of the more graphic sexual shit...grrr...

2.) in preparation for writing during NaNoWriMo, omit all expletives

This is gonna be HARD, like I mean REALLY hard! And you know? I would venture to say that the end result will be far less entertaining than usual. But listen, this prim and proper slant on the blog is definitely NOT me repenting or even attempting to clean up my act...it's more of a kind of experiment...to really just see IF I can do it, and if I do pull it off, to see how bland this entry winds up to be. I predict that my blog as a whole, would suffer catastrophically if I made a commitment to continue to clean up my language and stories as well as refrain from making slanderous and degrading remarks in lieu of exclusively positive and favorable comments. Anyway, let's just see how it goes...

I was bestowed with a bit of timely luck this week, when as a sort of last hurrah before hunkering down in front of my computer for the next full month, I managed to score two (count 'em TWO!) dates with online guys. Wednesday night - I was to finally meet the Other Hired Gun (O.H.G.) who I've been talking to via email, for more than a month now while he's been stationed somewhere in the Middle East. In his photos he looked tall, had a really nice body (slim, fit and hairless) and he had a shaved head, which I always like. And his notes to me were always brimming with good grammar and impeccable spelling, ahhhh...

Once O.H.G. had arrived back on this continent, we finally got to talk on the phone (it's always so nice to be able to attach a voice to a fella's photos) and we made plans to go get sushi out near where he lives. We met in the restaurant parking lot, and gave each other a friendly hug...and even though I had been hopeful that we might really connect - as is so common - I knew right away that he was not my type. Not gonna beat him up for his choice of attire, or list my hang-ups with certain of his physical attributes (although he DID actually have a really nice bod) but what I WILL do is repeat to you, something disconcerting that he brought up in our chat over dinner. Somehow we got on the subject of Viagra and Cialis. He told me that soldiers buy and use that shit (oops) like crazy, even if they don't have trouble "getting it up" - something about staying power and quicker recovery and whatnot...Anyway, somewhere in the midst of all of this, he blurted out that he was determined to one day invent a drug that would double as a hair-restorer as well as a penis enlarger, and target the enormous market of balding men who are cursed with a teeny johnson.........huh.........interesting...My immediate thought was, "Is there actually as large a population of men who suffer from both of these maladies simultaneously, (as he'd have me believe)...or is O.H.D. simply unwittingly admitting to being slightly less than well-endowed?" I mean he was obviously balding (yes he shaved his head and all - but I mean, you could look at the whisker shadows on his head and see exactly where no hair would ever sprout, again) so I was left to assume that his pipe dream to develop this double-duty "Hair and Dick" drug (as HE coined it), wasn't a philanthropic effort to spread goodwill among his fellow man at all, but instead - had everything to do with growing his OWN cock bigger (wait, is "cock" considered foul language? might have to change that). Sure, he could continue shaving his head to address the balding issue, but until the day that his dream drug hit the shelves...looked like he'd have to be content being hung like a mouse...

That was it for me, I was done...

Next night, kinda late-ish, like 9:30 maybe? I was IM'd by the Creeper who was still adamant that we meet. He asked if I was up for doing something spontaneous. I asked what he had in mind. He suggested that we meet at a bar in a town about an hour away, have a few drinks and then see how we felt about making those "fantasies" of his come to fruition...

I have no idea why I agreed to meet him, especially after he'd freaked me out so badly the last time that we talked. Nevertheless...I did. I jumped in the shower quickly, got dressed and sped up the road - willy nilly.

The Creeper and I also introduced oursleves with a hug in the parking lot outside of our intended destination...but the difference in my physical response to the Creeper vs. my reaction to O.H.G. was astonishing. Damn, was that little Creeper cute! Very young...but totally adorable. And he smelled so good...He was 6' with the most perfectly proportionate, masculine build - more stacked than O.H.G., even though he admitted that he doesn't exercise much at all. Oh, and his face...with those sparkly, dark eyes and a frequently occurring, cheerful smile that put deep dimples in both of his cheeks...He spoke with a faint accent (a particular penchant of mine) a now nearly imperceptible legacy of his early childhood in Argentina. Suffice it to say, we were off to a good start. It was a little strange for me to compare the Creeper who is 26, to myself back when I was his age. I got married and soon after - became pregnant during my 27th year, and I remember at that time, feeling like such a mature grown-up and oddly, I considered myself sort of "old" to be having my first child. But the Creeper just seemed like such a baby, to me. I couldn't imagine someone as fresh-faced as he was, married with a baby on the way...Eh, it's all relative, I guess.

After a little more than an hour and a couple of drinks, I could tell that he was messing with his phone in his lap and I was thinking, "Who in the world (translation: "Who the fuck") is he texting in the middle of our date?" The Creeper set his Iphone on the table and slowly slid it over to me. (Awww...He'd been writing to ME!) On it he had typed, "So how are you feeling about what we talked about?" I dropped my head down onto the table hard, as if to say, "Come on, man! THAT again?" You know, I had just been so enjoying his company and all, that the fantasy thing had completely escaped my mind. But I had to face the fact that this HAD been his big push from day 1...and it was sort of our whole reason for having each gotten in our cars at 10 p.m. and driven an hour away, to finally meet and see what was what. I went to the ladies' room to try and figure it out and when I returned, I scooted in close to him on his side of the booth...I definitely felt those cataclysmic lightening bolts straight up my middle as soon as I was next to him. We talked it over for a little bit and decided that it might be best to continue the conversation, outside...

We got to his Jeep, he leaned up against it, pulled me towards him and gave me a crash course in the meaning of the term "Latin Lover". That boy knew how to kiss...(and stuff)

We hopped into his Jeep, drove to that aforementioned and somehow now not nearly as threatening to me - "remote location" and lived out BOTH of his fantasies...(not to mention, a particular one of my own)

I'm sorry, but that's all that I am at liberty to say here...gotta keep it clean dontcha know...

Halloween weekend marked the last chance for me to get my ya-ya's out before holing up in my studio to write the novel, and by god - I was definitely gonna get the most out of it! Friday night was all about close pals and partying like idiots, downtown at the hot spots...and once again, I left the last bar to head home, nary a single male prospect on the horizon. It seems I suffer from a condition, and it goes something like this...GUYS DON'T TALK TO ME AT BARS EVER! If you don't believe me, just ask my friends! By now, everybody notices it...I swear to goodness, it can be me and a girlfriend sharing a table, and inevitably when men approach us, it's like they look right past me, eyes locked onto my friend, whoever she may be. After a little while, they sort of turn my way and act almost startled to see me there like, "Oh! Hey! Didn't see ya' there...what's up?" and then their eyes move right back over to my friend. At first it used to kinda bother me, but by now - I've come to expect it and I can always count on having fun just being stupid with my pals...so I rarely ever call it a night - disappointed. It is interesting to me though, that the guys who contact me ONLINE are so absurdly brazen in their advances...so forward and flirty and abundant. It's that derned internet, I swear...it's got everyone's social skills all outta whack, you know? Men have all the courage in the world, when it comes to talking to girls from in front of their computer monitors...cuz if they're rejected, they just scroll down the list and pick another target, simple as that! Plus their cohorts aren't there to ridicule them when they get stiff-armed by girls who are simply not charmed by there feeble skills...Essentially the world of online dating is a land of make-believe, it's just not real life, and people act all screwy...but bearing in mind my abysmal luck meeting men the traditional way, the internet seems a far better venue in which to have at least a shred of a chance to find a man...not to mention, it is virtually impossible to get a D.U.I while cruising the internet....which brings me to another little nugget of news...

I left the bar on Friday night and began to make my way home. The traffic patterns downtown have recently been all changed around, i.e. where there used to be stop lights, there are now 4 way stops instead, and that night - as I came up to an intersection where a light USED to be, I didn't realize 'til the last second that it was now a 4 way stop. I was already nosing into the intersection when I noticed the cop car to my immediate right at which point I tried to apply the brakes, but my big ass boots got my feet all tangled up and while depressing the brakes, I was accidentally pressing on the accelerator as well...I proceeded to roll into the intersection. As soon as I was all the way through it, the cop who had been sitting catty-corner to me, pulled up behind me and flashed his lights. (&#*@!) He asked me if I knew why he'd pulled me. I said yes and tried to explain the reason for my spaz-out...he went back to his patrol car with my license and when he returned, he asked me if I'd been drinking...and I told him that I had (duh) He asked me to please get out of the car and meet him on the sidewalk, so that I might perform the dreaded Field Sobriety Test for him and his partner - a female cop. I was grateful right about then - that I had kept my consumption to more of a minimum than usual because I was actually able to perform with precision, each challenge that he presented. Once I was done, he offered to give me a breathalizer test, just in case I was curious to know my blood alcohol level (ummm, how bout a big "NO" on that one) and then told me that after he finished writing me a ticket for running the stop sign, I was free to go (schwing!) But at that moment - the woman cop totally took the wind outta my sails when she uttered, "If it were me, I'd take her in" (&#*@$%+ *#%?!) I was like,"What?! I just passed the test with flying colors! Why she wanna be all harshin' my happy and stuff?" (Only thing I could figure was that my costume - [I was a "trick"] - had pissed her off...as it had so many other women, that night...Ha!) But I kept it zipped and went to wait in my car like an obedient girl, until the NICE officer came over to hand me my ticket and then tell me to git. I thanked him and apologized for my blunder and as he walked away I asked him if he could at least smile. He shot back, "No I cannot".

Ok, so this was one hell of a wake-up call and is yet another reason why laying low here in my studio for the month of November (if not longer) is probably the wisest decision I've made in a LOOOONG time...

But it was October still, and the next night was Halloween. I couldn't hibernate just yet. I was determined however, to be smart about my alcohol intake and how much time I spent behind the wheel of my car. Willow and a couple of friends met over at my house before we all caravanned further out into the country to a party. I had my sleeping bag and pillow and a change of clothes in my car and I was fully prepared to crash at the party, if need be.

The party was lighthearted good fun, in it's purest form...Everyone dug the spoils from the condom-rich pinata, and my wrestling match redux with Flemming was the highlight of MY evening, fo shiz. Things did take a turn for the scurrilous though, when I walked back into the house from the yard and wound up face to face with..(well, maybe more like my mouth to the forehead of)...the dastardly Rough Rider...It was no more than half a minute before he was dragging me by the hand out to a shed in the backyard. He pushed me through the doorway and closed the door hard, behind us. We were furiously kissing and biting and slapping and as he tried to undress me, I hit him square in the side of the head, more than once - with a loose fist. This did nothing to deter his advances, it only made him bite harder. He undid his belt and trousers and he (in the words of an old friend) "broke me down like a double barreled shotgun"...All the fun was soon over though, when Willow shone a flashlight through the window of that little ole love shack - and insisted that I get my (bare) ass outta there, right then! She met me in the yard - highly irritated, refused to let me tag along with that psychopathic sexual predator and then brought it to my attention that the Rough Rider's girlfriend happened to be sleeping in his truck, which was parked right out front...

And on that note, I think I'll go bury my head in the sand for the entire next month...and hope that it gets gnawed off by sand crabs...See you guys in December...

Oooooh wait, sorry...there is just on more thing...I opened this entry, belly-achin' about the weenies out there, who ruffle my feathers with their wimpy, underhanded wisecracks and whiney "tsk tsk-ing", but I feel that I must temper their negativity by applauding the benevolence of my (tiny in numbers but mighty in spirit) wonderful supporters...your upbeat and empathetic comments are the very things that keep me from totally douching this ridiculous blog...thank you guys, everly so much! Muah!

(P.S. How'd I do? You know...following my "wholesome blog" guidelines, huh?.........Yeah...that's kinda what I thought...)