And You Think I'M the Bitch?

I can't tell you how many people I've become friends with and they later have said, "When I first met you, I thought you were such a BITCH!!"

Why do people say stuff like that?

And why does everyone think I'm a bitch?

I'm like the nicest person EVER.  Ok, maybe not EVER, but I'm pretty nice. 

Well this weekend I got quite the doozy over the bitch comment.  First of all, I was at a party sponsored by Hubs's company.  Everyone was shit canned, over the top, ridiculously D-R-U-N-K.  Except me, of course, and Hubs because he is awesome.  So of course everyone was like, "Oh, what's wrong?" "Why are you so mad?"  "Why aren't you smiling?"  "Let me get you a DRINK!"  "You're taking a SHOT!  I don't care if you say NO."  (Notice how nobody was telling me how much they love me because I am a bitch.)

Anyway, this one guys says to me, "I'm a gonna tell you thisssssssss, but I'mmmm onlyyyyyy telling you this cuz I'm da-runk!  When I first metttttttttt you, I thoughttttt that you think you are bettttttter than me because you're upppppppper classssss and I'm nottttttt."

Um, fuckingexcuseme drunk dick?

First of all, I'm so far from upper class that it hurts a little.  And second of all, just because I'm not all "Hi!  Your outfit is cute and I love your hair!"  doesn't mean that I am a huge snobby bitch.  I'm just quiet when I first meet people.

I hope he woke up with a big fat hangover and felt like the world's biggest douche.

Unfunny but Existing Post

Dear Blog,

I have missed you so!!  I have been so busy over the last few days and will be working 60 hour weeks for the next 6 weeks.  I am also missing my bed, my son, my sanity and my free time.  But I promise not to desert you totally.  I will be back to write short, stupid and unfunny posts like this one.

In other news, I am physically and mentally torturing myself right now by watching Teen Mom on MTV.  Farrah is a huge cunt face, Amber is certifiably a nut job, and Catelynn and Maci are somewhat tolerable.  I can't tell you why I watch this piece of shit show but it's like a train wreck.  Maybe these bitches should just give me their babies and when they ask why they were adopted, I can just show them some footage of the show.

The End.

GAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

The last thing you need to read right now is another rant about pregnant people's fucking FB comments.

Well too bad.  Deal with it.  Dick.

I have, oh, I don't know, about 2 thousand friends on facebook that are pregnant.  Ok, ok, I'm exaggerating.  But there are alot.  Like alot-alot.  I'm in an area of the country where women try to poop out as many kids as they can in their lifetime.  It's not uncommon for people to have 4, 5, 6 or even more kids in my neck of the woods.  So pretty much everyone my age is pregnant.  With like their 4th kid.

Luckily my real life friends are too self-centered and alcoholic to be those kind of moms, but my FB friends are NOT.  They go to church and watch the news and read Rachael Ray magazines.

But I digress.  I just think when the time comes for me to be pregnant, I would never post something like "Yay!  Week 18!  Grow baby grow!!"

Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I might say stuff like "It's about fucking time Universe! WTF mate?"
Or possibly "I'm finally pregnant bitches, bring on the gifts!  (and the cake!)"
Maybe I'll just be the TMI girl who says stuff like "Haven't pooped in 5 days.  Thanks hormones!"

You want to be my FB friend now don't you?

OH OH OH OH OH, The Right Stuff

For those of you born in the 80's or even the 90's (gasp!) that title is a reference to the New Kids on the Block.  They were the shit back in my day.  First concert I ever went to and my dad and step mom took me.  I think I was in 5th grade.  I might have cried a little.  Here's a picture just for fun.  (The crazy haired dude on the bottom is Jordan and I'm pretty sure he was the source of endless teenage fantasies.)

Anyway, my point is that I started singing that song to myself in the mirror this morning when I saw my boobs in my new bra.  My god.  It's fantastic!

I buy bras from that really expensive pink place in the mall.  You know the one where bras cost like 50 bucks?  Well, I think the last time I bought a new bra from them was like 2 years ago.  Since that time I've gained and lost some weight, gained and lost a job, and ignored the fact that the straps are discolored and falling apart.  Mostly because when you have an extra 50 bucks, the last thing you want to spend it on is A BRA.

The horror of someone measuring your ta-ta's and forcing you to try on new ones keeps you from the store as long as possible.  Sure, I've bought some other cheaper ones to get me by, but nothing compares to the expensive pink ones.  It's hard to go back to generics after you have had your boobs fit into a comfy bra like a baseball glove. 

You totally just imagined boobs in a baseball glove didn't you?  Dirty bird.

I stood in the mirror, marveling at my magnificent breasts and how wearing the right bra sure makes my chest look bigger and my waist look smaller.  And then, naturally, I thought about how exactly I was going to blog about bras and boobs today.

Oh yeah, and I'm trying to keep my mind off of my cyyyyyyccccclllllleeeee (gag!  so sick of my cycle) and my OOOOOOOO day and spermination.  I don't even know what cyyyyyyccccclllllleeeee day I am today.  Isn't that great? 

Aww Love

So my friend's wedding was last night and it was glorious. I just love weddings. Especially when I know the people getting married are truly meant to be, and my friend and her husband really are. I cried a good deal and drank too much but it was still fun.

Until the middle of the night when I started puking my guts out. At first I just thought it was the vodka, but after the 5th trip to the toilet to throw up, I started getting really bad stomach cramps so now I'm thinking it was something I ate rather than drank.

Oh yeah and I'm ovulating.

So here we are in this beautiful hotel, I've brought along a sexy nightie and some sperm-friendly lube and I'm getting out of bed every couple hours to vomit. Super hot right? So after puke #4, I brushed my teeth and threw some gum in my mouth and tried to get Hubs in the mood. I thought it would be difficult because he had just heard me yak for 8 hours straight, but he was a trooper.

Oh yeah and it was a full moon.

So if I get pregnant, my conception memory will be my friend's wedding, a full moon and way more vomit than I originally counted on.

For now, I'm stuck on the couch for the day and still feeling yucky. Thank goodness I have all of these delicious blogs to read!

Mean Girls vs. Nice Girls

When I was in the fourth grade, I decided to grow my bangs out. Now this was right during the horrible bang movement of the 80's and way before the growing out your bang revolution of the 90's. I was innovative. Nobody else was growing out their bangs yet. My mom, who was a part of the 60's and 70's hippie hair movement and had some experience in this field, tried to help me accomplish my goal. She bought me some barrettes and showed me how to part my bangs and pull them back while they were growing. I improvised and also sprayed a ton of hairspray on them to keep them from coming out of the barrettes.

One day at school, I was getting on the bus when a 6th grader approached me and demanded to know why in the world I was growing out my bangs. I stuttered a little and managed to get something out about how I didn't like curling and ratting my bangs. She said flatly, "Well, you look dumb without bangs." Stunned, I came back with a defeated answer of "Well, I look worse with them." I wish I could say that this reply was my way of standing up for myself and telling her how freaking awesome my hair looked and that she could suck it, but sadly, I really didn't think I was pretty either way. As if that wasn't bad enough, this horrible 6th grade girl then DEMANDED that I take my hair out of the barrettes so that she could be the judge of which hair style would make me look less repulsive.

I promptly went home and told my mom to cut my bangs. I don't think I told her why. She tried to convince me that once they were grown out that my hair would look really cute but I didn't believe her. A few years later in junior high, all the girls were growing out their bangs. I didn't dare to try again until I was 18 and in college. I believed for all those years that I looked HORRIBLE without bangs.

It's funny how one mean girl can affect you. I have no idea who that 6th grader was and only had a 4 minute conversation with her, yet it left me with a belief for almost a decade - an opinion that wasn't even true!

Although it's unfortunate that it affected me so poorly, I think it also taught me a lesson... words hurt. Something negative you say to a person can really punish them for a long time without you even realizing it. I'm sure that the horrible 6th grader never thought about me again. (I'm also damn sure she grew her bangs out a couple years later.)

My point is that I believe the positive stuff you say to a person can also have a lasting effect. So to my 4th grade self - you look HOT with or without bangs and my god you are pretty! And to all of you... thanks for your support and willingness to share your stories and positive attitudes with me and for continuously (figuratively) telling me how great my hair looks.

Shut Your Fat Mouth

So a bunch of my girly friends know that I am taking fertility drugs. They use this knowledge against me.

Bitches.

Whenever I bring up the pregnancy topic (which is quite often and I'm sure they're sick of hearing it,) they start up about how I am going to have triplets or quadruplets. The funny thing is in my head I'm thinking "game on!" because I'd be happy to just stay pregnant, even if it is with multiples.

So I've decided that if I do have triplets or quads (which is unlikely) then I am assigning each of my friends shifts where they have to come over and change shitty diapers and bring me meals. And then I'm going to leave them with all the babies and take a shower and a nap.

They might not come over anymore but I have some pretty good dirt on all of them, and I'm not opposed to blackmail. They started it.