How many licks does it take to get to the center?

There's been some heavy shit going on in my life recently.
Normally this is a place for me to make myself laugh...and yes...that's what I use it for, but sometimes it's tough for me to find something to laugh about.

I'll just lay it out there for you and maybe you can make ME laugh today...

Freya is pregnant, as you all know, and she's nearly 6 months along.
She's also out of control.
I believe she is doing drugs and doing whatever she can to get them.

I suspected she might be into something she shouldn't be when we were home this summer to visit...but now I have no doubt in my mind.
She has hit up everyone for money. Some have given it to her and some haven't...but in spite of the hundreds of dollars she's been given, her bills aren't getting paid and she's still behind in everything.
She called my mother this week for money.
My mother told her she didn't have anymore for her.
She proceeded to say every hateful and nasty thing she could think of once she was turned down.
You see...if she asks for money and doesn't get it, she says anything she can think of to try to get money...no matter how unreasonable it is or how hateful.

She acts desperate...and desperation is never a good sign.

She has a job but calls in sick all the time and will probably lose that job..if she hasn't already.
The last time she called me to ask for money, I told her I'd be willing to give her money for gas to get to work, but she isn't responsible with it and runs all the gas out...going everywhere EXCEPT work.
She could stay home, go to work and eat well, but instead she runs the roads constantly, calls off work and hangs out with drug dealers.
She's lost weight...not gained any and she's pregnant.
She practically chain smokes and doesn't eat.
Plus she refused to take a drug test the last time she was at the doctor's office and walked out on them...so now I don't even know if she's going to the doctor or not.

This is what has been occupying my thoughts lately.

She's twenty seven years old...
She's going to do what she wants no matter how much I plead with her.
I can't stop her from hurting herself and that baby.

I'm helpless to stop it.

I was not quite sixteen when I got pregnant with her.
She says that I don't know what she's going through, but I do.
I know what it's like to be pregnant, without the father being involved...to worry about how you're going to care for a baby when you're all alone...
The difference between the two of us is that she has people willing to support her and take care of her....I didn't have that luxury.

I was fourteen when I met her dad.
I was fourteen and I felt as though I'd lived a million years already. I'm not one of those people who blame their recklessness on their parents failure to be good parents, but let's just say that my mother's parenting skills were non-existent. She was still trying to figure out how to be happy and making all the wrong choices.
I was just there to help pick her up after her mistakes and hide out from the worst of them.

I wasn't afraid of dying.
I was reckless with my life and treated it like loose change in my pocket...pulling it out once in awhile to look it over and then shoving it back in my pocket again after deciding it wasn't that valuable after all.
I was a daredevil because I just didn't care anymore.
Things had finally caught up with me.
I was faithless and hopeless.

At night sometimes when I'd be afraid to stay home because of the people there, I'd run into the woods and lay against a tree to sleep. The night would be cool and the darkness would come, covering me up like a blanket. I'd hear the heavy breathing of an animal in the darkness and wonder if there was something poised over me, ready to bite into my neck and tear my throat open...but I wouldn't be afraid.

Nothing scared me anymore...I had more blind courage than the best of men. That happens when you're not afraid of dying.
There was one thing I lacked the courage to do...and that was to kill myself.
And yes...I did think about it, but I couldn't do it.
I felt that death would find me sooner or later, mainly because I was always running to the places where death hung out.

When I met Freya's dad, he seemed like an answer to a prayer.
He wanted to spend time with me...he was kind to me...he didn't hurt me or act like I was invisible.
I still wanted to die, but I wasn't as careless with my life as I had been.

Then one night, I finally gave in and had sex with him.

I hated it.

Of course after he got what he wanted, I wasn't his top priority anymore.
He avoided me and once he figured out I didn't want to have sex again, he almost completely vanished.

I didn't really care.
I had grown used to disappointment.
I was beyond caring...beyond hurt...beyond feeling.
I went back to my reckless ways, looking for death..offering myself as a sacrifice.

Then EVERYTHING changed.

I discovered I was pregnant.
There was one life in this whole shitty world that would cease to be if something happened to me.
One small life that needed me...that I could love and would love me in return...

I became determined to take care of myself and the baby growing inside of me and nothing could deter me...not the threats of making me get an abortion, not getting kicked out of my home...not losing the friends I had...not the judgmental stares of people.

I took care of my child from the day I knew she was there and I worked hard, sacrificed everything and never felt resentful about any of it.

I was sixteen and lived with my grandparents...worked nights at a factory and cared for her during the day...but I didn't complain.
I was exhausted and worried about making a good life for her, but I never felt anything but love for her.

She says I don't know what it's like to be in her shoes, but I do.
I know what it's like.
She's the one who hasn't opened her eyes...because she hasn't seen the gift she's been given.
She made the decision to have this baby and not get an abortion.
She said she WANTED this baby...

The whole thing makes me sick inside.

I've told her before that she saved my life.
She did.
Once I was given a reason to live again, I LIVED!
And I never so much as glanced back at death again.

So how many licks does it take to get to the center of this Tootsie Pop?



It'll take a lot more than I've been dealt so far.

It's funny but with every adversity I come up against, it makes me more determined to find happiness and laughter.

And so...I got this off my chest.
It's not exactly what I was planning to do today but you know the drill...I get up and write whatever's in my head...and this has been the only thing in my head for the past week.

I can't change her and I can't fix everything, so I'm going to have to accept what I have no control over.

It's time to let it go and get back to living again...

Man God and the Menopause Goddess....

All my clothes are tight.
And I'm fucking pissed.
You see...the Menopause Goddess has high-jacked my body.
It's true...

Every other week, she blows me up like a balloon and tries to bleed me dry.
THEN she makes me irritable so I have to drink.
And we all know that drinking is fattening.

*SOB*

The other day I was in a VERY PISSY mood and Mr.Man asked me, "What's your problem?"

"WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?!?!", I screamed as my head spun wildly on my shoulders....." I AM BLEEDING TO DEATH AND I LOOK LIKE A SCHOOL BUS IN THE YELLOW SHIRT! THAT'S WHAT MY "PROBLEM" IS!!!"

He had the NERVE to say, "Well you'd better get over it because the Man God here is not going to put up with the Menopause Goddess. Man God stands up here...(motioning to above his head) and Menopause Goddess stands here (motioning to his waist).Man God is in charge and Menopause Goddess better know where she stands."


"The Menopause Goddess and Man God take a stroll through the park together."

Of course , since the Menopause Goddess has possessed my body, I said...
"I'M GLAD YOU FUCKING TOLD ME WHERE I STAND MAN GOD BECAUSE THE WAY I SEE IT IS THAT THE MENOPAUSE GODDESS IS JUST AT THE RIGHT HEIGHT TO REACH OVER AND BITE THE NUT SAC RIGHT OFF THE OLD MAN GOD IF HE DOESN'T SHUT THE HELL UP!"

*See photo above if you have questions about the dynamics of my statement...

Yes...we often have these romantic conversations, proclaiming our love for each other. It's special times like these that keep us together.

So anyway, this morning I have to go out. I must have tried on ten pairs of pants before settling on one pair that didn't cause me to lose the circulation to my legs. I then chose a "Moo Moo" looking top, that drapes over my body to cover the GIANT boob propper that's growing beneath my breasts. My shirt is red.
The way I see it is that maybe if people see the red they'll think I'm a fire truck and let me pass.
(I'm kind of in a hurry to get back home today...)


"NO standing in line for the Blonde Goddess today!"

I would wear the yellow shirt because people stop for buses, except that damn kids keep trying to climb on me and I'm already having a hard time walking, with the pants cutting off circulation and everything.)

Of course I know that I'm going to have to stop drinking so much.
That's probably adding inches to the thickness of my skin on a daily basis.
(Notice I said "thickness of skin" and not the "F-A-T" word..."

So...with that said, I have to leave and get on the road.
I'd better not see a "Wide Load" truck in front of me or I'll become homicidal. Well...I won't but the Menopause Goddess will....just ask the Man God.

We'll discuss the "no more drinking" or "not drinking as much" thing another day.
I don't want to cry hysterically while I'm running errands.


"I need a case of super plus tampons."

Yeah...I can see it now. Then EVERYONE would know. Forget it.

I'll be back tomorrow...

Off we go into the wild blue yonder...

As I crawled into bed last night (after consuming most of the icy cold Yuenglings in the fridge)I laid in bed contemplating the whole being a Lutheran pastor thing.
While I know I'd be good at it, I would probably begin each sermon with "What the hell is wrong with you people?" and end every one with "So get your heads out of your asses already!".
I just think I'm too blunt to be a Pastor....but thanks for the encouragement.


"Pastor Tammie's sense of humor was NOT appreciated by the rest of the church."

I think it was a good decision for me to not pursue that line of work.
Plus I ended up having a baby out of wedlock...probably not one of the requirements to get into Seminary...


"Only four more weeks before Moses is born and then another four years of Seminary school before I'm ordained!Whoo Hoo!"

When I was 17 years old, I had just given birth to Freya and I had several choices...
A: Marry the father who didn't want to get married anymore than I did.
OR
B: Keep working that shitty 11-7 night shift at the factory, taking care of Freya during the day and trying to cram other side jobs in while never sleeping (which wasn't working out too great for me at the time).

The other option I hadn't considered at the time was joining the Air Force.
A girl I worked with at the factory lived on the local Air Force base with her husband. She talked to me about the whole thing and asked why I didn't consider it.
That got me thinking....I was smart enough...I was independent...I could make a good life for Freya and I...
I decided to do it.
One problem....my family was completely against it.
No support what-so-ever...
So that was the end of that.
I had no one to care for Freya while I went through basics and school...a sacrifice I was willing to make to give the two of us a better life.

So I married that dick head and lived in hell for 6 years instead.

I think I would have made a good soldier...and I KNOW I would have ended up a lifer...


"Senior Master Sargent at my retirement."

I did kind of get into the Air Force when I married Mr.Man....(if you consider an enlisted dependent 'getting in'...LOL).

Another unknown fact about me is that I didn't have an imaginary friend when I was growing up.
Now I have quite an imagination...but no imaginary friend?
Hmmm....that's an interesting fact.

When Freya was born her father refused to pay the 20 buck to have his name put on the birth certificate. So my name is the only name on her birth certificate. Yet another unknown fact...

Ummm....let's see...what else is there?

I'm going to have to think about it some more.
I know...I know...everyone keeps secrets but I need to think of secrets I'm willing to share.
Most of my secrets aren't as incriminating as they painful. I'd prefer to keep those to myself.

In the meantime Veggie Stick is walking around bitching and crabbing about losing her phone charger.
HEAVEN HELP US!
Her friend has a phone charger she can bring to her her later but THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!
SHE'S DRIVING ME FUCKING INSANE WITH HER BITCHING!
I'm not even kidding when I tell you that she's been bitching for two hours STRAIGHT WITHOUT STOPPING!


"IF I DON'T CHARGE MY CELL PHONE IT'S GONNA DIE!"


You know...maybe being a Pastor would help in situations like this. I'm going to consult my homeboy Jesus and see what he thinks...

Holy water?
Maybe if I baptize her?
I have just the place.....



I bet a few dips into that Holy water will help get rid of her possession....

I'm going to get off here and listen to my Ipod. It'll drown out the screeching until I can start drinking at five.

More tomorrow...if I can think of anything else.

Pastor Blonde Goddess...where art thou?

It's pissing down the rain today.
It was supposed to be nice today and then rain tomorrow, but how lucky for us that we got it two days in a row instead.

Oh well...it's not like I was going anywhere anyway!

It's Elderly Hell day and although I have figured out how to keep them at bay,(shitty finger of death), they are still plotting against me!( It's a great day for a hidey-hole...)
It's just a matter of time before they find new recruits...I don't want to be around when that happens...


"They say she uses the Shitty Finger of Death to protect herself now."
"I ain't skeered of that Martha. Hell, I used to have to walk uphill in shit waist high just to get to school when I was a youngster."

Evil bitches...

I got a couple of awards, although I'm completely undeserving of them.

I got an awesome award from John.



Ain't it beautiful?
He is such a sweetheart. He has such nice things to say about me. I always have to look twice and make sure he is actually talking about me! HAHAHA!

I also received this award from Just Jen.



I'm supposed to tell you all 10 things about me that no one knows...
Hmmmm...how about I tell you 10 things YOU probably/maybe don't know about me?
I pretty much lay it all out there when I write, so it might be difficult for me to think of 10 things...

Here it goes....

1. When I was a kid, I believed that my father was actually the love child of Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. My dad was adopted and while I didn't know him, I saw pictures and was convinced he was their baby.
I even thought I looked a lot like them both...



Ok...so maybe not so much...I WAS A KID! SHUT UP!

2. I considered being a Lutheran Pastor when I was 14-15 years old.
I know...I'm sure THAT'S something you would NEVER have guessed about me, but you know...in spite of my dislike for the Jesus Police, I don't dislike Jesus. He drank wine and grew his hair out and was a rebel...always wanted by the law for doing his own thing. I'm thinking we would have gotten along real good...


"They'll never take us alive, will they Jesus?"

Yeah...I know...I'm going to hell. I only wish I had a dollar for every time I said something that buys me a one way ticket.
I'd be rich!

You know what?
I can't think of anything else.
I'm going to have to sleep on this.
I know there must be something else you don't know about me, but honestly, I can't think of anything right now.

I pretty much share everything in this blog...you know?
Every day is TMI day here!

I'll give it some thought and get back to you tomorrow...

Until then, may the peace and understanding be your always...amen.

Guess what?

It did help me feel better to get that off my chest.

I'll be back tomorrow...

IN the closet...

I haven't felt like blogging.

There...I said it.

Actually it's not that I haven't wanted to blog, per se, it's really that I haven't wanted to share myself with anyone.

I'm in that silent little closet,...with the door closed and the whole wide world wondering where I am.

I get like this sometimes.
I think we all do.
I'm just trying to figure out how to pull myself out of it.

For the first time in a LONG time, I forced myself to sit down here and write something.
I'm completely not motivated to do it either.
In fact, I'm pausing between sentences, whereas normally I can't type fast enough to write down what's flowing out of my head.

My cat died.
The one that was half starved when I got home....and that affected me in a negative way...
The vet gave me this bullshit about it being depressed and it being my fault for leaving her home for two weeks, discrediting that fact that we had people coming in several times a day to feed and play with all three of our cats.
Of course I believed everything the vet said.
I did everything they told me to.
I thought she was getting better and then she died...in my arms.

Now I realize that there had to be something more wrong with her and my common sense should have told me that the vet was full of shit.
I don't understand why I allowed myself to listen to that garbage.
If I had only told that vet to get fucked and taken my cat to another vet, she might still be alive.

Normally I can find some way to pick myself up and move on...you know...using my crude sense of humor...but this time, I'm just not bouncing back as quickly.
I have about as much bounce as a brick.

Maybe that's where the silence is coming from?
I'm looking inward and all I see is something raw and shriveled up.

I made a horrible mistake.
I'm just having a hard time forgiving myself for it.

And that...my friends, is yet another chapter in the fucked up tales of the Blonde Goddess.

Maybe now that I've forced myself to confess, I can move forward...

I hate this damn closet.

Moist...the word of the day....

I like the word moist.

It describes a variety of things I enjoy....cake...kisses...towelettes...soil...chicken...you get the gist of it, right?
Of course there are a few people who think moist is a disgusting word but I think it's just because they have heard it used improperly.



The way I see it is that it's all about how you use the word. It's not a bad word at all!

It's used to advertise many useful products...cake mix...heating pads...chicken cooker thingy's.
HUH?
What's a chicken cooker thingy?
It's one of these things...



Apparently you use it when you cook your chicken to help make it moist.
You stick it in the chicken...like so...

And you get the gosh darndest, cutest, moistest chicken ever!

How can anyone say that moist is a bad word?
It's all about how you use it....seriously...

For example...Mr.Man just called me because he was pooping. He's one of those dudes who can't stand to poop away from home, but occasionally he is forced to so he either...
A: Designates a stall at work as his own safe poop-zone
B: Calls me while on the shitter to establish contact with home base.

Ok...so what's my point you ask?
Don't be so fucking impatient...
I was talking about correct ways to use moist.

So anyhow, he called me and told me he was pooping. I asked him how it was going. He said it was fine. So I asked him if he was constipated and he said no. So I said to him, "Well that's good. It's a nice moist shit then."


"MOIST!"

See!
That is one correct way of using the word moist.(And you were thinking that it only works when discussing cake...HA!)

Of course there are inappropriate ways to use the word too.

For example, if you see some hot guy standing in line at Krogers you should not say to the cashier or some total stranger, "Wow...that guy makes my panties moist!"


"Why does this woman ALWAYS come through MY checkout lane?"

People don't appreciate the visual and unless you're having phone sex or texting suggestively to your lover, moist should not be used in that context.

Other suggestions for things NOT to use moist for:


"Man...it's fucking hot.I'm feeling a little moist under the titties!"

Most people don't appreciate knowing about that sweaty place beneath your mammaries...just saying.

Here's another inappropriate use of the word "moist"...

"I think I sharted...my ass crack feels moist."


"It must be something I ate..."


Yeah...that's not appropriate unless it's Elderly Hell day and you want to escape a situation involving several old ladies and huge shopping carts...

One exception to using the word moist in a rude manner is shown below.Sometimes it's necessary to say something in an appropriate situation...


"He needs some goddamn deodorant...he stinks and his pits look pretty moist."

I'm sure you get the general idea now.

I'm always glad to help out....

So remember when you use the word "moist" today, use it correctly and with caution!

I was...but I didn't. What the hell???

Mr.Man looked so adorable this morning that I had the urge to tie him up and molest him.
But after checking my night stand, I realized we were out of condoms.
For a split second I considered driving to the store in my pajamas and buying some before he woke up, but then I decided against it.
It's a small town...I'd hate to give the Jesus Police even more ammunition than they already have.
Can you imagine?


"QUICK! Ring up this box of condoms before he wakes up and gets out of the restraints!"

Yeah...for some odd reason, this didn't seem like a good idea. Go figure.
Usually something like this would be right up my alley
I have some great ideas...

Maybe I'm getting scared in my old age?
Whatever the reason for this new found consciousness, I don't like it.

And this morning isn't the only time it's happened recently.

The other night the crazy woman who lives across the street came out of her house at midnight and cleaned out her truck.
Yeah...you remember...this woman...here and here and here and here..

She turned on her radio at FULL VOLUME and began cleaning out her truck...at midnight!
Then she began to sing to the song that was playing on the radio....OFF KEY!
The whole thing sounded like cats fucking with a George Strait song playing in the back ground.
My head almost exploded.
I stomped out of bed and down the stairs, ready to walk across the street and beat the stupid out of her, when I realized I was only wearing one of Mr.Man's T-shirts...
NO panties.
I hesitated...thought about just going out there anyway...and then decided it probably wasn't a good idea.

By the time I went back upstairs to put some pants on, she had finished and gone inside.
I missed my golden opportunity. God knows, she NEEDS the stupid beat out of her.

See what I mean?
All this consciousness lately....what's up with that?
Normally I run on spontaneity. I can't have this conscience thing causing me to second guess my decisions!

I believe I'm going to have to spend the day home, keeping to myself until this thing passes.

I'm really concerned about myself and I'm going to purge my system with beer tonight.
I'm hoping that will help get me back on track.

Wish me luck!!!

My glasses make me smart and Lucky Charms make me crazy!

I'm kind of irritated today.
SOMEONE ATE ALL THE MARSHMALLOWS OUT OF THE BOX OF LUCKY CHARMS AND THEN PUT THE BOX BACK!

That REALLY pissed me off....

It pissed this dude off too...


"Don't be fucking with the goddess' Lucky Charms now..."

I'm just REALLY MAD ABOUT THIS!

FIRST of all...it means some asshole put their little dick grabbers in the damn box and went through the cereal, looking for marshmallows...

SECONDLY...the cereal tastes like little balls of rolled up newspaper without the fucking marshmallows!

THIRDLY....I WAS IN THE MOOD FOR SOME MOTHER FUCKING LUCKY CHARMS!!!!!!!

There...I feel a little better now that I got that off my chest.

I'm slightly worried about my mental health...
Yes...I know that probably comes as a shock to you, but I need to talk about it.


"Are you ready for this?"

Ok...you seem ready so here it goes...

Last night Mr.Man and I were home alone for awhile.
Nice, right?
I was TOTALLY worked up and in the mood to abuse him in so many tasty way....when something happened that actually killed the mood for me.
Yes...I lost the urge...instantly!
This has never happened to me before, so it concerns me.
Let me explain....

Mr.Man was standing in the kitchen reading the back of a box of cereal (yeah...I know...he does crazy shit like that all the time...) ANYWAY...he was standing there and I got to thinking about how scrump-man-dal-ee-icious he is so I got on my knees and unzipped his pants.
I withdrew his Mr.Happy stick and slowly took it in my mouth.
I quickly spit it back out again!
BLEH!
PWTOOEY!


"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

The damn thing was covered in baby powder!
Fucking baby powder!!!!
Talk about a mood killer...

I mean, what the hell?
Does he get out of the damn shower and "POOF POOF POOF" himself in a powdery fit?

It TOTALLY killed all the horny cells in my body.
It took at LEAST 8 hours for my body to replace them all.
This has NEVER HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE!

Hell...I've shrugged off a lot of shit and remained horny under circumstances that would normally kill the mood.

I've been farted on during sex...and it was raunchy...smelled like a dead carcass rotting in Mr.Man's colon,but that didn't kill the mood for me.

The roller shade has flown up, exposing us in the very act of "gettin down and goin to town" and that didn't kill the mood for me...

I've queefed in a very loud manner with poor Mr.Man's ears mere inches from the queefer itself and then laughed to the point of shaking like a bowl of jello (which makes any woman feel SOOO attractive)...and THAT didn't kill the mood for me.

It takes a lot to kill the mood for me, ok?

But APPARENTLY...baby powder kills the mood for me.
Mr.Man will cover himself from head to toe in that damn shit when he's not in the mood to play now!
He has a secret weapon now...an invisibility cloak, so to speak.

But the old goddess here isn't a dumbass...
I have a secret that I will share with you.

This.....



looks like this....



BWAHAHAHAHA!
I will fill the baby powder container with powdered sugar.
Don't worship me...it's actually my glasses that make me smart.
My glasses and determination...they motivate me.

Speaking of motivated...I need to get busy.
See ya tomorrow...

Little Beatle's birthday request....

My son's birthday is coming up next month.
He's such a sweet boy that I find it tough to say no to him when he asks for something.
Of course this morning, after having a few other boys stay over night with him, he did make a request that I'm finding to be slightly disturbing...

He wants a "vagina cake" for his birthday...

His 13th birthday.


"He asked his maw fer a giner cake?"

Yes...
Yes he did.

I began to ask him where he got the idea for this but then stopped myself.
Do I want to know?
How could my sweet little baby possible know about vagina cakes?
I decided to google it...hoping I might find some explanation...some INNOCENT explanation...

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

The Urban dictionary had several definitions...all of which I did not like.
I'm not even going to repeat them on here.

As for the google image search...that's even WORSE than the web search...

I doubt that I will post that on here, mainly because I'm in shock.

Instead I felt there might be other options for a birthday cake for my little baby boy.

For example...

How about this cake?



I will enclose a special message on a card with the cake saying, "This is what mommy will look like if you EVER mention a vagina again...EVER!!!"

And of course there is this option as well....



The note with this cake would say something along the lines of this..."This is the police car that will take mommy away for assault on a minor if you EVER say vagina in front of mommy again because she will beat you senseless with your old baby bottle shaped like a teddy bear!"

Of course I might get him this cake...



The card with this cake would say, "Son, I thought you'd like a Veggie Tales cake because the Christian school I'm considering sending you to LOVES Veggie Tales and I wanted to give you a preview of what high school will be like for you....IF YOU EVER SAY VAGINA IN FRONT OF YOUR MOMMY AGAIN!!!!

HEY!
IF I SAY HE'S STILL A BABY, HE'S STILL A BABY DAMNIT!

Vagina cake my ass.....

Now I know what James T. Kirk's mother felt like....



Yes...there's a Star Trek cake...

Actually, I've made two decisions.
I'm going to make MYSELF a cake and then let Mr.Man deal with this problem....



I wonder what flavor ice cream would be good with this cake?

All I have to say is thank god his birthday is next month....

The flaky momma...a true life story.

My trips home are normally wonderful.
I always enjoy seeing everyone and it's great to be able to spend time with my family.
But occasionally, I find myself wanting to jump in the car and drive like a bat out of hell to get AWAY from it....
This mostly happens because of my mother.



My mother might be summed up in one five letter word....flake.(You thought I was going to say bitch, didn't you?)
Yep...flake definitely describes her better than bitch (although she can wear that coat like it was tailor made for her too.)

I'm going to have to go back a bit to really explain this in the best way possible.

From the moment of my first memory,it involves something faddish.
Whenever there is a new fad, it becomes my mother's favorite thing in the whole wide world.
I have lived through her hippy stage, disco stage, big 80's hair stage...well...you get the picture.

I lived, breathed and experienced everything vicariously through my mother....me, the unwilling participant most of the time.I equate it to the way a ball and chain feel once they've been clamped onto a prisoner...

My brother, thank god, went to live with my grandparents when he was 7 years old. He spent most of his time there anyway, so he just told them one day he didn't want to go home...so I was the sole prisoner.

Anyway....
I was a love child of the 60's,dressed in the psychedelic fabrics with fringes and beads. I could have choked to death in my crib (which as also adorned with the same fabrics but decorated with a bead curtain).
I was left to run outside, naked if I wanted (and you wondered where I developed a love for that kind of thing), with my hair bleached white and my skin browner than a coconut.
She filled my baby bottle with coke though, which would have clued me if I had the ability to comprehend it at that very young age, that it was just a fad for her...a phase. If she'd have been serious about the hippy thing, she'd have have been filling my bottle with goats milk or carrot juice or something.

We then moved into the peace activist's stage of the early 70's. While protesting the Vietnam war, she would regularly head to the local base to party and pick up a few things...(GI's mostly). She'd party with them and the smell of marijuana would fill the house. I'd sit out on the porch and read comic books or color in my coloring books because I didn't like the smell. I can still recall the fuzzy orange rug in the middle of our living room with a giant peace sign hanging above our pink and orange sofa. The peace sign was tie-dyed.
No wonder I needed glasses in second grade. The bright colors blinded me...

As I got older, she discovered disco and the hippy, peace loving woman disappeared. She chopped off her long hair and got a perm. She starved herself to an unhealthy thinness and looked like a dust mop...or at least that's what I though.
Gold lame'tube tops and designer jeans with heels and that freakin big hair. She'd flounce into the house and then flit out again...on her way to party all night.


"A shot of Flaky from behind, dancing at the disco."

How awesome is my paint shop art? HAHAHA!

I think she forgot she had a kid during that time. I vaguely remember her looking at me like "who the hell are you?" one night when she came home from work to change before going out.
So I spent the latter 70's a disco diva's house maid, more or less.

And finally in the 80's before she kicked me out, I was the caretaker of a recovering disco diva/slash big hair party girl.
I'm not feeling the need to go into that phase today, but let's say she was at the top of her flakiness....

When I was a kid, I used to sing "She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes" but I had made up my own lyrics to it.
I was creative like that, even from an early age...

She'll be coming home, when she comes.
She'll be coming home, when she comes.
She'll be racing like wild horses, running from all her divorces, she'll be coming home, when she comes.

She'll be bringing home lots of boyfriends, when she comes.
She'll be bringing home lots of boyfriends, when she comes.
She'll be bringing home mostly losers, who'll turn out to be abusers...She'll be bringing home lots of boyfriends, when she comes.

And I won't go out to meet her when she comes.
And I won't go out to meet her when she comes.
I'll be invisible and silent,so no one will get violent, no..I won't go out to meet her when she comes.

Not very funny I guess, but I was a weird kid. I had strange ways of coping with things.

In spite of all her different looks, she's always reminded me of Eunice from the Carol Burnett show.
You know...the flaky, self-centered thing.
The first time I saw Eunice in action, I thought to myself..."THAT is her, just toned down a bit...."


"IT WAS A SEVEN!"

Yep...that pretty much nails it...Flaky in the flesh.

So anyway, EVERY year since I can remember, my mother has thrown herself a birthday party. And it's always needed to be a big deal for her. Hell...her birthdays now are a bigger deal than mine were when I was a kid.
The year she turned 60, we planned a party for her, complete with signs and presents and cake. But because we were also celebrating the 4th of July and everyone didn't sit around and watch her open all her presents, she insisted that no one had given her a birthday party.


"I didn't GET a birthday party for my 60th birthday....*pouts*"

PLEEEASSSSE....How freaking old are you????
The degree to which it annoys me is beyond comprehension.
Seriously...

So this year, once again, we were forced to sit around and watch a grown 60ish woman, open her presents and make a big deal over herself....AGAIN!


"MAMA! Look what I got from Jer! (Which we all know is really Jerry) Isn't it the MOST beautiful thing? I LOVE IT!"

And believe me when I say this is the same thing she tells everyone about the gifts she gets from them...(except me of course...)
She sits in the center of the room and goes on and on about what everyone got her (except me..we've been over this before)and we all suffer through it. My brother could literally wrap up a dog turd and it would be the "BEST THING EVER!". I could give her diamonds and she'd glance at them and then make big over everything else. Thankfully I'm not concerned about it or I'd get my feelings hurt all the time. It does bother my brother though and I've told him, "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault she's a flake."
My brother and I are very close. We tolerate Flaky's actions because Nana kisses Flaky's ass and it's just easier to do it than get Nana all upset.

Flaky has this annoying habit of shortening people's names. For example, if your name is Bruce, you'd still be Bruce, but if it's Delbert, you'd be Del.
Iris would be Iris but Shelly would be Shel.
I don't fucking know how she makes the decision who gets a shortened name and who doesn't but it's enough to make me want to gouge my eyes out every single time she does it.

This post probably seems depressing and petty but you know, I needed to get it off my chest.
The woman makes me crazy sometimes.
Most days I deal with it just fine, but when I spend a couple weeks with her, it pokes and prods at my insides until I just have to get it off my chest....
After I do, it's back to my regular life.

Watch the Eunice video...it's funny. Of course I've always loved Carol Burnett so that makes it funny anyway...but it's even more so because it's a living, breathing example of Flaky...

Flaky...a true story and what will help sell my autobiography someday...

Sorry this is late today but my computer got a nasty virus earlier in the day and after hours of work and a system restore, it seems to be fixed.

THANK GOD!!!

The Bread Beast's aggressive wiener....

So my trip to Maine this year was pretty quiet.
I know...hard to believe, right?
But I'm serious.
It was QUIET.
The Beericksons were out of town.
There was no party.
The Christmas in July happened just this past weekend and the annual pig roast will be next weekend.
WTF?
I swear....you get drunk and do a Swedish polka on the picnic table at ONE FAMILY PARTY AND THEY NEVER LET YOU LIVE IT DOWN!



I gave back the sausages...well...most of them anyway.

Whatever...

On our way to Maine we stopped in Massachusetts and saw the Bread Beast and Gucci Girl.
It was awesome to see them!
Bread Beast had picked up some Sam Adams for me and I was spoiled rotten by Gucci Girl. She makes this incredible sauce that's insanely delicious! Plus there was a hot breakfast the two mornings we were there and I didn't have to cook!
We even got to sit out by the fire pit and relax....


"The definition of relax according to the Blonde Goddess dictionary is to sit and drink until you begin to look and act stupid. Thus endeth the lesson for today."

By the way...that's me with the short hair, sporting my glasses. I'm starting to look more and more like a NanNan every day, no? Oh yeah...and the update is that Freya doesn't like the term NanNan and says the baby will call me MeMe instead. She's having a boy and he's due in November...

Now what was I talking about?
Oh yeah...our stop at the Bread Beast and Gucci Girl's house.


"Designed after the Bread Beast's favorite urinal at work."

We mainly hung out and got caught up on our lives but did venture out for a trip through the town where they live Saturday afternoon. I took some pictures and there's one in particular that I thought was bizarre but I'm going to save that for another post.(Mainly because I haven't downloaded my pictures yet.)

Little Beatle and Hockey Star are the same age and if they said four complete sentences to eachother I'd be amazed.They did, however, play XBox almost the entire time and bonded in that adolescent boy way. The girls texted and talked on their cell phones most of the time, so we adults got to visit almost entirely unmolested...

Well...except for the aggressive wiener.


"ARGGG!!!!"

The Bread Beast has no control over his wiener and Gucci Gal had to lock it up so it wouldn't attack our dog. (What can I say? We have an attractive dog....)
ANYWAY, in spite of the aggressive nature of the Bread Beast's wiener, I thought it was cute and I even got to touch it a few times when it was feeling more sociable.
Mr.Man said it was cute but he's really used to something bigger and unless it's a pussy, he doesn't believe they should be as small as that.

I actually felt terrible about locking up the wiener because it was plainly obvious it wanted to be let free, to bounce and jump around and drag itself through the grass in the backyard.

It was sad really...

I did get to witness a couple of tricks it knows how to do though.
In fact there is one trick published to YouTube....

Wanna see it?

I knew you would....

Here it is!



Isn't that the cutest wiener you've ever seen?
He really is adorable.

There is something I thought I should mention, mainly for Gucci Gal's benefit.

"I SLEPT IN YOUR GUEST BED IN THE NEKKIDNESS! NO UNDIES!"



Ain't I a stinker?
Look! I used to be a Keebler Elf!

I just had to inform Gucci Gal that I'd broken the rules while I was in her house. Nothing on the sheets though! Pinky swear!!!

Ok...that's enough tormenting for now. I need to get busy anyway.

I am back and tomorrow I will discuss my flaky mother....believe me. It's entertaining...at least if you're not related to her.

See you then!

Swedeville...vacationland of the Goddess...

I'll be on vacation for the next two weeks.
Unfortunately the internet service where I'm going is practically non-existent so there will be no updates.
Please use this time to do other things, like bathe and clean out the lint in your belly button.
If you absolutely have to have a Blonde Goddess fix, go into the archives and find something fun to make you laugh.

I will miss you when I'm gone and when I'm REALLY drunk and crawling around in the back yard of my grandmother's house, I'll think fondly of you all...

LOVES!!!!

Captain Kirk and his dick of death...

Whenever I watch Star Trek reruns, I always ask myself the same question....was Captain Kirk REALLY as virile as they portrayed him to be or did he have help? I can't help but speculate about the way things REALLY might have been on the Enterprise....

Captain Kirk was a fine figure of a man and he KNEW it....


"What do you mean these red tights aren't flattering? I think they look great."

Seriously...he was always whoring around with SOME woman...or women...
How can one man be THAT horny AND successful?
Yeah...lots of dudes are horny but they strike out a lot.
Captain Kirk?
He scored every time!


"That's right baby...that's the way to launch my rocket."

I just can't help but ask myself whether there was more to his success than meets the eye.
While they made it seem to easy for him to get laid, what made him SO irresistible?


"I hate how it always takes two hands to jack off!"

Ok...so that would explain things a little bit.

But was he really so smooth and suave that he could literally make a woman fall into his arms with little or no effort? Or was there even more to it?
Was it his experience that turned the women on?


"These stimulate your nipples. I acquired them in the Delta Quadrant."

Maybe it was his authority?
Some women are attracted to that kind of power.
Of course it is possible he used his authority to get some action when he wasn't hitting a home run with the babes....


"What do you mean "You don't want to do a threesome? That's an order ensign!"

Of course personally I think that he learned a few things from Spock.
Spock was a sexy beast!
I would have totally done Spock.
Besides...I picture the "Spock Cock" looking like this...


"The Spock Cock Deluxe!"

That just looks like it would be a lot more fun than the average smooth and shiny kind, you know?

I think that Spock showed Kirk some tricks to make the ladies crazy too.
For example...


"And this is another special Vulcan love touch.It makes women crazy."

Live long and prosper my ass...that looks like a variation of the shocker to me. I even think they call it "the Spocker"....heh heh

Yes...Captain Kirk had help, I'm sure of it.
Even Bones helped him out.
One day as Bones was in sick bay with nurse Chapel, they made a startling discovery.


"What is it doctor?"
"They call it Viagra nurse Chapel. It was invented in the 21st century."
"What does it do?"
"Let's find out nurse...."

Of course once Bones re-discovered Viagra and informed Old Captain Kirk about it, he was even worse than before....


"MORE VIAGRA BONES! I'M HAVING COMPANY TONIGHT!"


Captain Kirk's "company" arrives...

"Our collective IQ is 107."

After Kirk discovered Viagra there was no stopping him....
It was like giving the man a bag of M&Ms....


"The green ones made him horny."


"The yellow ones made him horny."


"The brown ones made him horny."

He was simply out of control....

They were finally forced to destroy all the Viagra and the directions for making it after Kirk humiliated himself at a meeting with an important dignitary...


"Your guards hats look like they're concealing breasts...soft..tender..breasts. Make them take them off. I have to see them...touch them..."

Although he avoided a court martial, he managed to ruin any chance of having a happy retirement...


If I could still get my hands on some Viagra, you wouldn't be so quick to reject me!

Sadly, Kirk lived out the rest of his days on the Enterprise with the horrible nickname, "Limpy"...


"THE NEXT CREW MEMBER TO CALL ME LIMPY WILL BE ENERGIZED INTO OUTERSPACE!"

And there you have it!
My take on the entire Captain Kirk is a stud story line!
What do YOU think?
Got anything to add????