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!