It is time to let go. I know it is. I am always playing the safe route. Banking on things I can count on. I need to start cliff diving. I need feel how glorious the air rushing around my body as it is in flight. I can’t live a life in fear of failure. I managed to fail numerous times in spite of this dictate. Today I decided fear is not going to paralyze me anymore. I cannot let my faith be misguided. I am placing my faith where it belongs. IN ME.

I can feel all my burdens and worries spilling out of my soul like raindrops from swollen clouds. The knots are working themselves out. I am working it out. This time I am not gauging my actions on how they will affect another person. The only person I am taking into account is.. Me… I will not feel sorry for discarded responsibility and people who are left behind. They had their chance. I have been held hostage by lack of vision too long. It is just not worth my effort anymore. I need to invest that energy into myself before it is too late. And with saying that.. I feel free. I feel lighter.. I feel focused..

So. It is time for me to me to spread my pretty wings around. The wind will be my guiding force. Destiny drives me to live the life I was supposed to, not the one orchestrated by others.In living more authentically I will finally come out of hiding. The real me has arrived. And she is lovely.

It is July 28th, 2008 and I am hot as hell. This has to be one of the worst most hellaciously oppressively hot summers of my lifetime. Houston has reached temperatures of over 100 degrees more times than I can count. I have even heard speculation next month might be even hotter. I have lived many many many places in the world, but never ever ever have I lived anyplace as hot as Texas. South America, Africa, and Southeast Asia can step down. Houston holds the crown as the hottest place on earth. I believe if I sat on the surface of the sun, I would be 10 degrees cooler. Houston is a hell Dante can’t even fathom.

Unfortunately, I am not built for the heat. It makes me mean and cranky. Considering I am cantankerous under ideal circumstances, you can just imagine how the weather has affected my personality. I am a loaded gun waiting for a target. There have been numerous Dirty Harry moments, where I was waiting for someone to make my day. Then when people didn’t rise to the occasion, I was sorely disappointed. I even caught myself singing the lyrics to Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit.

I am getting so aggressive I am forgetting one major flaw in my bullying plan. I do NOT know how to fight. I have never been in a fight. If someone fought me, I would need to be scraped off the sidewalk. So perhaps instead of walking around like Betty Bad Ass, I should get drinks from Sonic and lace them with vodka. I will enact the plan tomorrow and see how it goes. However, I might just change my theme song to Break Stuff until the weather subsides.

The Marquis de Sade once said “Lust’s passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes”

I must have been the muse of the Marquis de Sade in a past life. Many people base their life on Love. Not me. I am all about l Lust. I have been in Love once. A love that burned from the core of my soul like molten lava and scorched my skin. It didn’t work out.. Love betrayed me. Since then I have replaced Love which is unpredictable, wild, capricious, and undependable with Lust. Love is a whore who is gives herself to anybody indiscriminately. But Lust. Lust is far more discerning in her tastes. We get along fine, me and Lust. We are passionate, aloof, and in the end we get exactly what we want. Love is giving. Lust is selfish. Yeah. I get down with Lust.

The current economic state has caused me to prevent Lust from being aroused. I can’t satisfy her. She can be a cruel mistress if not bedded down properly. So for now, I have to keep Lust pacified with minor pursuits which are completely obtainable. For instance, there was a time when I could satiate Lust with expensive shoes, handbags, lingerie, perfume, and jewelry. In efforts to be more responsible Lust has taken a back seat to practicality. Instead of shopping at Sacks, I am trying to acquire a pallet for clothes from Target. So far.. It is not working. I keep looking at the stitching and material quality. Just can’t do it. So. I am dedicating this post to things I am Lusting after, but refusing to go into massive debt to obtain. I mean come on? Who doesn't want a Pink Bamboo Gucci Handbag, Bond 9 Brooklyn Perfume, A David Yurman Ring, or a Pink Cartier Watch? Who would say "no" to any of those lovelies? If you find someone who would, I say you have found a fool. Target has NOTHING that comes close to these items. I've looked.

Materialistic? Maybe.. I prefer to call it quality conscious. It sounds more eloquent.

I can’t say I am truly from anywhere. My childhood can best be described as my family being blown wily nilly all over the globe for over 20 years. I CAN say that I went to college in Virginia. So. In my heart of hearts, I am a Virginia Girl. The Old Dominion can boast of many many things such as the Cardinal being the state bird or milk being the official state drink. Personally I think the state drink should have been whiskey since it is the main ingredient in a Lynchburg Lemonade. But I digress. Virginia is the birthplace of not only 7 presidents, but our nation as well. Yes, Virginia is an amazing state with all sorts of amazing qualities. However, when I think of Virginia I think of the Dave Matthew’s Band.

I can remember exactly where and when I first heard their music. I was working a rather uneventful bartending shift when a song caught my attention. I asked a coworker who was singing and she laughed in my face and said “DMB stupid”. I filed that information away, but for the rest of the evening I made sure to take my time making her drinks. No one gets away with calling me stupid. The next day I went out and bought the Crash CD and spent hours and hours listening to it over and over and over. I drove my roommates insane. Since they were already crazy, insane wasn’t a remote distance. I got a reputation for being a DMB junkie and my regulars would play DMB on the jukebox whenever they saw I was cranky. Needless to say.. Dave Matthews was played quite a lot.

I won’t play myself by retelling all sorts of stalkerish Dave stories or put on Front Street why DMB concerts had to be some of the happiest, laid back concerts I have ever been to. You can read between the lines on why people were happy and laid back.

To this day, I love the Dave Matthew’s Band as I love my next breath. Their music touches me in ways few things do. Today I was feeling sorry for myself because I am in exile in Texas. I am missing my friends, family, and my dog. In the middle of this Miss Havishamlike pity party I’ve been throwing myself, the song The Best of What’s Around came on. I think there are times when divine intervention is undeniable. The main lyric is “whatever tears at her, whatever holds her down, if nothing can be done she’ll make the best of what’s around”. This song has always been my theme song during tough times. When I hear it, I know I can do anything I put my mind to and while I am working it out, things aren’t so bad. So. I am resolving my situation but for now I am going to make the best of what’s around.

I have generously provided a link to a live performance of the song. It is worth watching.


Side note: The person who this is directed towards will understand. “You and me have a better time than most can dream, we have it better than the best, so we can pull on through whatever tears at us whatever holds us down, if nothing can be done we’ll make the best of what’s around” I’m coming home.

RIP LeRoi Moore. You are greatly missed.

It is Thursday July 23rd, 2009. All is quiet on the western front. This disturbs me sort of like the silence before the storm, or the moment prior to the shoe dropping. My spine is tingling with anticipation of the fuckery which all weekends seem to contain. I have no idea why my life is always in reverse of many other people. They live for the weekends. Well. NOT. ME. Weekends for me contain all sorts of bullshit that annoys the crap out of me. I shall cite how I am always going over to some person's house to sit around for hours doing nothing. Then usually after hours of starving to death some basically inedible meal is served. Not only is the food offensive to the pallet, it isn't nutritionally balanced either. So for me that is a fail fail. I have no idea why these people who shall remain nameless, always seem to serve like 3 starchy foods and no green vegetables. I would hate to know what their colons look like. I suppose Texans are focused on meat and lots of it. Never mind vegetables and perhaps a lovely tasty fruit course. I try not to hold people up to my standards, but they are ingrained in me and it is such a strain to smile every weekend and hide my disappointment with the fare I am forced to choke down. I never thought I would ever ever ever say this but, I am sick and tired of BBQ! I have developed an automatic gag when I see ribs. Just the smell turns my stomach. I also have grown tired of smoked meat of any variety. Can't do it anymore. Unfortunately, I cannot get out of these standing weekend dinners. I have tried every type of spingali trick I could come up with, and nothing has worked. This fox is unaccustomed to being out foxed. I feel as if the Borg have taken over my weekends, "resistance is futile". Grr. So. Tomorrow is Friday.. Let the fuckery begin. I can't wait till summer is over, so I won't have to go to so many of these weekend BBQ Miller Lite induced hellacious weekends.

Hi. I am the Oracle and I am bitter. The first step to recovery is admitting your problem. I am bitter and I KNOW I am bitter as hell. People in love make me want to vomit.

Whenever I see happy couples on TV, movies, media, or real life I get pissssed off. Not jealous per say but just plain mad. Like the Heatmiser. Somehow their happiness is offensive to me. It gets on my damn nerves. How smug they are in the bubble of couple hood joy. It makes me want to retch.

My hair blows back like the kid in Firestarter and my eyes glaze over with pure unadulterated pissedoffness. Anger wells in me as if I am going to erupt molten lava. I think my skin sizzles a little bit.

And then I think.. Damn girl you are bitter. A few beats after the initial thought, I think.. SO the HELL WHAT! It's fun damn it! No need to go to bitter rehab. I am the Oracle. Bitter ass Oracle. That's me. And I love her!

So tonight I am going to try something different. My impractical degree is about to come in handy. It is officially free association Tuesday with the aid of Ketel One Vodka (lovely) co-staring my serviceable yet overpriced knowledge of psychology. For those of you who are not familiar with free association, I will take this moment to catch the class up before we begin.

Dr. Sigmund Freud is a crackpot who used cocaine to get his patients as well as himself in a groovy mood. He is also regarded as the second most influential psychologist of all time. The number two spot is heavily debated as some people who discount his coke head induced achievements as incompetent, reckless, nonfunctional useless information. But I digress. I am NOT a Freudian psychologist however, he has a few ideas I can shimmy with. One is, free association.

Free Association is a part of the psycho dynamic theory which uses words to uncover true feelings through psychoanalysis. Aren't you impressed with my proficiency in speaking psychobabble? I know I am. To continue the lesson, free association efficiently provides personal insights through. Tonight, instead of me using free association on the crazies I work with, I shall use it on myself. Just a mental health check in if you will. Since I OBVIOUSLY cannot use rich man's aspirin otherwise known as cocaine, I substituted Ketel One Vodka as a mode to loosen up.

Now that I am properly relaxed, I will start with one word and see where it takes me. LIFE- apathetic.. boring.. ready to move to the EAST COAST- home... smart people.. 4 seasons.. not burning up hot like HELL- Texas.. sick of being hot every damn day.. why are people so nosy and opinionated..mind your damn business.. don't make eye contact.. damn I have to pretend to be NICE- shopping.. good friends.. good food.. the recession SUCKS- marriage.. husbands.. housework with no maid... wait I was the maid.. not HAPPY- family.. friends.. chocolate... DAVE MATTHEWS BAND- listening to music that reminds me of home...they don't get DMB here.. want Dave to sit on my bed and play the guitar.. fantasy.. many more where that came from..all of them minorly depraved.. don't care.. need a HAPPY PLACE- ocean.. sea.. azure. clean water.. not like GALVESTON- dirty ass water... brown and yucky.. what is the deal with this gross water.. want to go surfing in COSTA RICA- love it there.. great vacation with my parents.. miss them.. one still here.. lives on the EAST COAST- must return to the woman who gave me LIFE.

One does not need a fancy pants Master's in Clinical Psychology to see that moving back home to the East Coast is what is on my mind. I am pretty proud that I can psych the psych. And all without a ride on the white horse.

Right now.. Nothing is seeming to go my way. I am caught in a perpetual waiting game. Not one.. But two. TWO WAITING GAMES! It is starting to piss my ass off. Not starting. My ass is officially pissed off. Usually I lead a charmed life. Hard work, preparation, and my winning charm get me what I want most of the time on time. If I don't get it, I sit back on my haunches and make it happen. Well.. Right now.. It seems like the universe is trying to teach me a lesson. I'm not amused. During your twenties is when you learn hard lessons. You have more energy for foolishness then. Once you hit your thirties, there should be a stride hit where you don't suffer so damn much. I mean come on. Did I kill a bunch of people in my past life? Did I kick little children? (in this life I want to kick them but I refrain) I was under the impression that all of my karmic debt was settled in full with an abominable marriage under my belt and all those experiences I lived through in my twenties. Hell. I felt my life could pretty much go on cruise control as I slide into the twilight of my life. Obviously not! I still have things to clear out of my cosmic closet because I am not getting my way. Grrrr! All of my plans hinge on one thing. This is not like me because I am the empress of having plan B, C, D, E, and F. So, I have decided to take my fate into my own hands and out of others who are attempting to hold it in their perfunctory hands. As of today, I am going to stop walking around pissed off like a wet cat. I will dry myself off and move on to opportunities more conducive to my goals. A note to those who squandered my precious time, please feel free to choke. TY.
I have a serious problem which has been an issue for me as long as I can recall, yet I have no interest in addressing it. Once I believe someone is stupid, I think they are stupid forever. Anything they say to me no matter how potentially brilliant, will be met with a face similar if not exactly like the one pictured below. Notice it is a man trying to tell her something. This picture speaks volumes. When stupid people are talking, I feel my brain cells are being destroyed almost as efficiently as if I huffed gasoline and then licked LSD stamps for hours on end. I have absolutely no tolerance for stupid people. Ones I know.. And ones I do not know.

Lately the news has been over saturated with people talking who just really need to shut up. I will give you some sterling examples. Sarah Palin. Seriously. No seriously. Shut up! She has proven what an idiot she is over and over and over again yet still she continues to harangue. Please stop. No please. Another person drawn to the media like a crackhead to the pipe is Joe Jackson. Please Joe. Shut the hell up. Take a cue from your wife who obviously tries to have little to do with you. Be QUIET! Please. We have had enough of your rambling nonsense. I tried to follow an interview you did but found putting together puzzles bought from Garage Sales with missing pieces more satisfying. Rush L. Oh how he loves to point out the faults of others. Yet he is a pill popping fat ass farmie fanatic. Shut up please. No please. I would also like to point out rappers. These days they are like a wild bunch of dingos running around making ridic soundbites for foreigners to take to heart and judge us by. Shut up! My current favorite dumb ass rapper quote came from Lil Wayne who said, "I gave up doing coke because it gave me zits". Yessss.. The perfect anti-drug slogan since Nancy Regan's "Just Say No" campaign. Thanks Lil Weezie. All the women on The View can shut the hell up. They are just so damn annoying. I am amazed the show has lasted this long. People who go on those judge so and so shows can feel free to stay at home and shut the hell up there too. You are spreading ignorance over the airwaves like liquor spreads legs. Anyone who starts a sentence with "I don't mean any harm" or "Don't take this the wrong way" can not only stop right there, but they can politely choke on their own words.

So just like the Real Men of Genius I dedicate a hot cup of shut the fuck up to all people I know, and those I am forced by the media to be familiar with. True dumbasses who do not know when to put a lid on it Alice!
The hot cup of shut the fuck up is only for those I deem stupid. Many of the offenders are carrying the XY chromosome. If you do not suffer from the pesky Y chromosome, and you are not Sarah Palin or a cast member of the View, you may safely talk around me without getting the open hand slap to the mouth.

Just kidding. I wold never slap anyone... That I didn't think would let me. Tee hee hee.

Soo. Yeah. I have a Hello Kitty obsession. It is absolutely ridic, I know but I am by no means ashamed. In fact, I embrace it. I love Hello Kitty and nothing upon nothing will diminish it. I have noticed there are quite a few Hello Kitty devotees on Twitter. Which leads me to believe I might have enough people to form my own Hello Kitty club. Only really really really cool people can join my Hello Kitty club. Rule number one, I get to set the standard of coolness is. This club is going to be extremely exclusive. I can't let just any riff raff into the ranks of the Hello Kitty elite. The members of the Kick Ass Hello Kitty Club (I also get to name said club) will ride around town in this Hello Kitty Attack Vehicle. Anyone that gets on our nerves, we will roll over them in the pink camouflage Hello Kitty Attack Vehicle. We also have have Hello Kitty fatigues and super crazy sexy cool uniforms. These uniforms will not be designed by Kimora Lee Simmons. She is tacky Hello Kitty. We want classy Hello Kitty. (once again standards set by me)

We will have a sorority house just like this one. The sorority house will be treated like the Honeycomb Hideout. No BOYS allowed! We can have 2 extremely hawt houseboys that clean the Hello Kitty Sorority House. They also cook and take orders from all members without complaining. Their uniform will be a Hello Kitty loincloth. We will hold parties with Hello Kitty cupcakes and all sorts of delicious food. Life in the Hello Kitty Sorority Manor will be fantastic. We can even hold a rush once a year. I have no problem with hazing. Only the most devoted followers of Hello Kitty deserve to join our ranks.

Ah yes. The Hello Kitty taser. This is important. If the houseboys start to get out of line, we will use this on them. The taser will also be used on anyone who bothers us. Most of the members of the Kick Ass Hello Kitty Club are mildly violent like me. We will each be assigned our own personal taser for emergencies. People getting on our nerves is considered an emergency.
I believe we should make the houseboys dress in this Storm Trooper uniform whenever we need a laugh. I mean come on. This is just straight hilarious. I would never personally play myself by wearing this get up, but I can damn sure enjoy laughing at someone else wearing it. I can barely type from laughing.

I also think this should be our mascot. It sums up perfectly the mission statement of the Kick Ass Hello Kitty Club. If you don't like us, feel perfectly free to kiss our asses.
The first member of the Kick Ass Hello Kitty Club is Brittney as she is just as cantankerous as I am. Love ya @bleakey!

My bestie Anne and I talk all the time. Constantly. We talk on the phone, text, twitter, facebook, yahoo im, g chat... smoke signals.. psychic messages.. We literally are in contact with each other all day long and most of the night. Our conversations range from the deadly serious to the deliriously insane. However, one theme seems to have come up more frequently over the years. The concept that Women are the new men and men are the new babies.

Perhaps this sounds radical, but if you are a Woman and have been or currently are married, you know exactly what we are bitching about. When did men stop being men and start being children? My Dad was a man. He did manly things. This did not by any means negate being solicitous to my Mom in any way shape or form. However, he was not a little bitch. I an not sure if it is my personal luck or just karma, but I am running into a lot of guys that are little bitches. At first I considered the source, perhaps I was attracting them to be because I am so capable. Men can go on auto-pilot and enjoy the ride while I bust my ass. Then I starting talking to OTHER Women! They all had similar if not the exact same story. Being the consummate psychologist, I started compiling these stories to form a hypothesis. Men are babies. Not all men. Just ones in a certain age bracket.

It is my belief their mothers mollycoddled them into being completely useless lumps of flesh who are accustomed to women doing every thing for them. They have a high sense of reward and low motivation. They believe the smallest achievement made deserves celebration. Like.. Breathing.. This culture of overindulgence of little boy/men has made them soft as hell. DISGUSTING! Somehow society has become accepting of men/babies who are Sally Candypants. The backlash is Women have even MORE responsibility.

Women are the new men but definitely not being compensated for it. There are more of us obtaining college degrees, yet for some ridiculous reason we still make 30% less than men. We perform the same tasks more than likely waaaaaay more efficiently than men but make less than they do. Oddly enough men's brains are 15% larger than ours however, they do not use them to the best of their ability. We are able to use both hemispheres of our brain simultaneously during thought processes. In contrast, men can only use one hemisphere at a time on average. Verbally and memory wise we totally slay men. But I can't tell you how many times men have tried to spingali me into believing I forgot something or I didn't remember it correctly. Uh. Yeah I did asshole.

Women can go to school, work full tine, come home and start "second shift" while men are lazing on the couch doing absolutely nothing useful. (playing video games or watching Sports Center) WHY? because they are "tiiiiiiiiirrrrrreeeeedd". Whatever! We are tired too! But as a Woman we do not have the OPTION of being tired. We do not have the OPTION of lying around when there are tasks to be done. Women dig deep and get it done, while looking fabulous. Somehow a generation of men have been brainwashed into believing Women should do everything for them. This is complete BULLSHIT! Feminism doesn't negate the role of a man. Nor does it give them an excuse to be slouches. Just because we CAN do everything doesn't mean we don't want HELP. Yes, Women have babies, but we do not need a man/baby to raise as well as the ones we are biologically responsible for. Man up! Sheesh! Or should I say WOMAN up?

"Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze" Carolyn Gold Heilbrun
As these summer nights meander into the dawn, I start to long for a summer romance. The type of summer tryst which leaves you breathless with passion. Anticipation curls around you constricting.. Pulsating.. Pheromones of your lover heightening your senses. Skin tingling from gossamer touches.. Feathery lustful breaths trailing down your spine. The feel of wanton kisses. Lips and tongues tangled in yearning. Breathing your lover's essence and exhaling salacious moans of wanton hunger. The smell of bliss filled atonement hanging in the air like wisps of incense. Fingertips tracing unfamiliar territory delighting in their journey. Greedy.. Insatiable craving for more although you are spent. Restless.. Impatient.. Demanding as well as yielding. Relishing in the salty sweet savory taste of infatuation knowing that when fall approaches with its shortened days, this garden of euphoria will wither and fade away. This is what summer romance is composed of. I am more than ready to enjoy a summer romance. I want my long summer days to end with a golden haze.
Yesterday I was tagged by AnneKinLA. As the consummate people pleaser and all around if you want me to do it I will type of gal, I decided to play along. Here goes. Rules of tagging so says Anne:
Tag and link back to the person who tagged you. List six little things that make you happy. Tag six bloggers and let them know they are “it”. Anne is going to have to link my list back to her as she knows I am inept at anything computer related. Family & Friends makes me happy. Not everyone in my family gets put on this happy times list. I am still researching if I am truly related to some of those nutcases. Also, not everyone who believes they are my friend is considered a friend by me. Interesting enough some people overlap. Anne is the sister I am so happy to have but delighted not to have to split inheritance with. Love ya Anne!

Extremely girly things. Like clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, high heels, perfume.. All things equated to femininity. These things make me extremely happy. Pedicures, getting my hair done, days at the spa.. To me these things are the definition of bliss. By the way, I would kill for that shoe.

Traveling makes me happy. “A person needs at intervals to separate from family and companions and go to new places. One must go without familiars in order to be open to influences, to change.” Katharine Butler Hathaway This picture was taken in Italy at a cafe. Oh the wine! How I loved Italian wine and Italian men!

Music! Yes! Music makes me extremely deliriously happy. It is the perfect compliment to any and every mood one might obtain. It can make you happy, sad, romantic, frisky… Music is the love of my life because I can always count on it to be there when I need it.

Cupcakes. Yes. Cupcakes. But not just ANY cupcakes. Like cupcakes from Kroger aren’t going to cut it. I am a cupcake snob. If it is going to pass my lips, it better be flawless. So. To recap. Cupcakes of the highest quality make me happy.

Ok so now I must tag people. Since Anne tagged me, I think I should only be responsible for tagging 5 people.

1. Bad Ass Femmes (this should be really good if she decides to play)

2. Java Cupcake

3. She is Beautifully Human

4. I'm in my own lil world

5. The Cocoa Luv Chronicles

Loving you is like walking through fog. Yet, I can't stop walking. My destination is not known, but I can't stop walking. At times I run. I can't see where I am going. Where am I going? What am I doing? I don't know. Yet, I can't fathom relinquishing my journey. I love you. I've loved you all of my life. This lifetime and several before it. I know I will love you in the next life and all others after that. I love you, but I married him. Did that hurt you? How was I to know you were going to come back to me? How? You disappeared in the mist. I couldn't grasp you. The essence of you slipped through my fingers like gossamer smoke and left dewy kisses in my palm. I never forgot you. How could I? You are… YOU.

I hate how my love for you penetrates my walls. They have been carefully constructed so that no man could ever locate the interior of my soul. The place in me which is supple, yielding, malleable. My Achilles location. The place which can destroy me. My love for you is eroding at my soul. It kills me, then like the breeze off the ocean after a summer rain it refreshes me. How can that be? Is this our yin and yang? During this life am I on the path of redemption for transgressions which I have done to you in past ones? Should my heart ache so much this time? I would gladly pay for my past sins. Just let this fog lift. Provide me with a destination. The quest through endless fog is draining my mystical energy. I keep fortifying my walls and yet you leap over them effortlessly, bringing the dreaded fog with you. It is thick. It makes my eyes burn and my throat choke with words that I cannot tell you. Words I don't believe you want to hear. Words if given to you will allow you the weaponry to bring me down once and for all. So I build more walls while I am in the fog. Carrying heavy stones from ancient times.

I am cold and alone. My journey can't be shared with anyone. It is my own fault. It is my burden to carry alone and silent. My secret that I keep locked in the recesses of my soul. My own personal karmic hell. Soon I am going to lie on the ground, and give up my pilgrimage. Odysseus found his way home. I am losing hope that my home even exists anymore. It has been destroyed and a new temple erected on the carnage of us. I can feel the loss of my home. Still I yearn to return.

Never mind. Your actions speak more loudly than your exiguous words ever will. We are too much alike. We are are the same person. I am a part of you as you are a part of me. You can walk through the fog while I capriciously dance in sunlight.

So. Major changes are taking place in my life. I have spent the past 4 years being a wife, babysitter, accountant, personal assistant, driver, scullery maid, personal shopper, healer, doctor, cook, psychologist to the insane, fixer of all problems big and small and a myriad of other duties and titles which would take me eternity and one day to list. I have basically been Bree Van de Camp, with a little less OCD involved. Luckily this woman is a fictional character because I have no idea how she keeps the facade of perfection up for so many years. I broke under the yoke. Being the perfect wife is not easy. Especially when you do NOT have the perfect husband. But I digress. Moving towards my new life I am excited about the opportunity to reinvent myself. I am shedding the chrysalis of housewife for that of one which excites me beyond belief....

WORKING WOMAN! These degrees need to start working for me since I worked so hard to procure them. So. Although the job market is rather tough, I managed to find employment that seems (for now) like my dream job. I will be doing something which I feel is important. I am working with teen girls at a treatment facility, in hopes of assisting them in getting their lives back on track. Will I skip to work everyday? Most likely not. I am realistic.

My life trajectory has never taken long stints in places where it has no business being. In contrast, these girls have made poor decisions which have removed their lives from the desirable path. It is now my metier to guide these young ladies to stability. Role reversal. I am shaking up my life to help them steady theirs. I'm enthusiastic. I'm apprehensive. Most of all I am dedicated to these girls I have yet to meet. I am sure we are going to learn so much from each other. I have wonderful childhood stories of a stable household with overly loving parents. I can't wait to hear their experiences then build a bridge which we can meet daily and connect with one another.
I love these girls already. I know there are going to be days which I could do without them, but hopefully those will be few and far between. See, through these girls I am gaining freedom from the mundane. Freedom from insignificance. Freedom from existing rather than LIVING and MAKING A DIFFERENCE.

As with all contracts, upon review it has come to my attention I have left out some important details. Since this is a rider relationship contract, I feel it is my justifiable right to add extra arrogates to the previous list. My world. My rules. So. There must be an understanding that I love Hello Kitty stuff. Just love love love delight in it. I do not want to hear any complaints about Hello Kitty checks or juvenile Hello Kitty apparel. Live with it. Roll with it. Canonize it. Nothing is going to stop the Hello Kitty train. NOTHING.
Must love dogs. Sorry. Just must love dogs. They are the most wonderful creatures on the planet and I do not see myself living without a dog. I will not date a man that does not like dogs. First of all I will think something is seriously wrong with him, and second I won't trust him because of said serious problem. If a dog doesn't like you there is a good ass reason why. Usually humans are slow to figure out what dogs can size up in a matter of seconds. Dogs can sense evil. So. Love me. Love my dog. My dog must love you. Non-Negotiable. (Sidebar-isn't this puppy the cutest ever ever?)
Here is yet another important constituent I neglected to mention yesterday. Cupcakes. Good cupcakes do NOT I repeat do NOT come from the grocery store. They just don't. I was so focused on the no grocery store flowers that I forgot to mention grocery store cupcakes are the scourge of my delicate pallet. Grocery store cupcakes are to take to a kid's school or their sporting practice. Grown women do not eat grocery store cupcakes. My PREFERENCE is Sprinkles Cupcakes but in a pinch I will diminish my expectations and nosh on other cupcake boutique cupcakes. However, SPRINKLES whenever possible. Red Velvet please. Do NOT ask for a bite either, lest you want the look of death to fall upon you.

Ok. This is a BIG ONE. The guy yesterday looked "gay" according to a few people. I do not want a gay loovvveeerrr. That is counter productive. I'm thinking about him.. He's thinking about some other guy.. Just not good for a HETEROSEXUAL relationship. So. NO GAY MEN! This guy or one masculine like him will do nicely. No Moes! If you have a suspect or questionable experience involving a man in the past, please do not apply. I can always tell a bi-curious/gay man. We would go at it like 2 wet cats in a burlap sack. Ok. So. To review. Must understand I love Hello Kitty. Must not ever ever bring me grocery store cupcakes. Must be HETEROSEXUAL. I better wrap this post up because I keep staring at the crotch of this guy in the picture. I won't get a thing done today.
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