How NOT to get a Man

Dating after Divorce entails a few more challenges, than it did back when you were young and single.

If you have children, you have to not only consider their welfare and well-being, but also ensure that your children can like and get along with the Candidate, but also that the Candidate can like and get along with your kids.  Add to this dynamic, HIS children and HIS ex-wife, and it can get very complicated.

And sadly, if you are a woman, you have an age bias with which to deal.  Older men still, with some exceptions, like younger women.  So in dating men your own age, there is a lot of competition.  Which is not to say that it can't happen.  I'm four years older than Mickey, after all.

But even with these above mentioned odds, some women go a few steps farther in ensuring that they will NEVER find another man of their own.    These are instances that I have witnessed.   Some examples are downright crazy and defy all forms of common sense.

1. DO NOT tell your Candidate of three months, that you are still in Love with your ex-husband, and that if not for his big-breasted Barbie Whore wife, you and he would still be together;
2. DO NOT borrow your Candidate's vehicle while he works (for free) to repair your broken vehicle, and then take HIS vehicle to the airport to hook up some other new Candidate that you met on the Internet  And if you do this, by all means, do not leave your airport parking voucher in his car;
3. DO NOT tell a Candidate during the first date, that he, being seven years older than you, is "the oldest guy I've ever dated.";
4. DO NOT, when you sleep over at a Candidate's house and he leaves in the morning to fetch donuts for you, rummage through his drawers and closets and snoop through his computers.   And if you DO this, DO NOT confront him about what you found on his computer.  And if you do that, DO NOT act surprised when he physically throws your ass out of his home and threatens to get a restraining order against you;
5. DO NOT, after only one date with a Candidate, put your teen-aged daughter in the car with you and drive-by his home when he is not there, pull in his driveway, get out of your car and go peek inside all of the windows.  This is called Trespassing.  His neighbors will report your unlawful activity and he will threaten you with a restraining order if you ever come near his home again;

One would think these "tips" would go without saying.  But, unfortunately, these instances are all true.

A Day in My Life

SOMETIMES I leave out (of these posts), the fact that I live a freaking FABULOUS life.

I can't complain, but sometimes I do.  Just for fun.  But even though I suffer some minor irritations and road bumps, when I lump everthing together as a whole, I have been very LUCKY and BLESSED.   [as witnessed by the fact that Mickey, laying a few feet away from me, just blurted, out of nowhere, "I love you Pammy."  He's so sweet.]

THURSDAY of this week, my Darling husband, decided that "his baby" really needs and deserves a new Land Rover.  I must admit, I liked my old Acadia.  It was only two years old and still drove like brand new.  And after I washed it, it still looked like a brand new car.  The only problem with it was that I had put a ridiculous amount of miles on it during the two years I spent driving 3 hours a day for [that company that will remain nameless].

MICKEY said that he loves me and that I deserve it.  And he wants to give it to me for an early birthday present.  So we spent 3.5 hours of our lives (that we will NEVER get back) going through the motions of negotiating with the Terrorists Sales guys at the car dealership.  And then we drove off of the lot with a $65,000 stunning vehicle.

THEN, (it gets better, if that's even possible) the next day Mickey and I drove to the sprawling, beautiful home of some good friends of ours for a Casino party.  There was a live DJ and karaoke, catered food, dancing, lots of alcohol, pool, roulette and Blackjack Tables.

NOW, I don't normally gamble.  It just seems so unfairly weighted.  I don't enjoy wasting money.  But since we were sponsors, we (Mickey and I) were given $5,000 to start.  $5,000.  So on the first role my number AND color came up on the roulette wheel.  So my first $100 win was 35/1.  So I made $3,400 the first time on the table.  After that, I rarely lost.  Until I had over $50,000 in chips.  But I decided to keep playing.  And then Mickey joined me and we ended up $28,000 positive.

Not a bad way to end a night.  And a weekend.

I love being Me.

Those last 5 pounds

In my ongoing pursuit of the abolition of those resillient extra five pounds, I think I've hit a plateau.   It took Mickey pointing out to me, that, "You barely eat any food."  It hadn't occurred to me.  I think I eat when I am hungry.  But maybe 1,500 calories a day isn't enough food for someone who does an hour of cardio a day.  Maybe I've jacked up my metabolism.  It's difficult to force yourself to eat MORE food when you're trying to lose weight.  I'm munching on a turkey and swiss on wheat with Baconnaise as I type.

Yesterday at the gym, one of the gym rats approached me (I wanted to add that I don't voluntarily strike up conversations with people at the gym ~ I'd rather be left alone.  But I digress.) and said, "Wow, you do a LOT of cardio.  What do you run?  About 8 miles?" 

"It seems like 8 miles," I said.  "But I think it's closer to 5." 

What does it mean when complete strangers are worried about the amount of cardio I'm doing?

Regardless, cardiovascular health is the least of my issues.  I have the heart and circulatory system of a 12 year old boy (not a 12 year old who sits and plays video games all day, either).  Now if only all of this hard work will kick in and result in some Lean and Mean...

I'm going to get that tattoo, dammit!  Three weeks to go.

On Mother's Day

I reflect today on how having James in my life has made me a better person.

Having him made me want to grow up and be someone that he could depend on.  I floundered some, made some bad choices, but also made mostly good choices.  It wasn't easy, but parenting under any circumstance isn't easy.

Having him made me understand the true meaning of Love and Life.  Watching him grow into the Man he became has made me very proud.

And here he is, my Little Boy, all grown up.

Sounding Off

Or more aptly put, "Things that Irk the Shit out of Me."   Why?  Because this is MY blog and I CAN.  Hah, Hah, Hahhhhhh!!!!


People who Walk SLOW in Crowds
Don't you realize that moving quickly creates momentum and actually makes moving easier?  While you slowly meander to wherever the fuck it is that you are NOT in a hurry to get to, the rest of us are stuck behind your slow ass.  How is it possible to walk that slow?  Are you on drugs?  Walk faster or move to the side.  Or I might succumb to my urge to tackle you.


Dorks in the Gym
You know who you are.  You don't actually go there to work out.  You go there to:  1) scam on chicks; 2) scam on dudes; 3) get away from your spouse.  But whatever your reasoning, it is NOT to get fit and healthy.  How do I know?  Trust me, I do.  If you are wearing the same black socks that you wore all day to work, except with orthopedic sneakers, and your shirt is tucked into your khaki shorts WITH A BELT, you are not there to work out.  If you wear gloves to walk on the treadmill, you are NOT there to work out.  If you wear your Folex to the gym, you are NOT there to work out.  If you apply make-up BEFORE you go to the gym, you are NOT there to work out.  If you see me running at warp speed on the treadmill, do NOT try to talk to me.  I am working out. 


People selling vacuum cleaners at my home
I have a vacuum cleaner.  In fact, I have two.  If I need a vacuum cleaner, I will come to you.  Or better yet, I will go to the store.  Or I will go online and buy one.  There is no such thing as a "free carpet cleaning."  Do not insult my intelligence.  Do not think you can come into my home and case out the joint.  My dogs will EAT you.  Go away.


Screaming Kids
Screaming kids in general, but screaming kids in public places make me want to beat the shit out of their parents.  Do you hear that screaming?   It's your kid.  Just because you're numb on valium doesn't mean the rest of us are.  Our parents' generation believed in corporal punishment and we all survived.   No child ever died from their parents threatening to rip their arms off.  I suggest you try it.  Or maybe I should just slash your tires.


Religious Nuts
 I respect your right to practice whatever crazy beliefs to which you choose to subscribe.  Please respect MY rights to NOT subscribe to your beliefs.  In other words, if you don't thump your Bible, I won't kick you in the crotch.  Fair enough?




Thank you and have a nice day.

Excuses, Excuses!

I'm never rude to other people about their weight.  I don't call people names for being fat.  Quite honestly, I feel it's none of my business.  If you are happy and content with whatever weight you are at, it is not my place to judge and I respect your right to live your life however you choose.

HOWEVER, once you start volunteering excuses for why you can't lose weight that you WANT TO LOSE, I think you open yourself up for a little constructive criticism.

In a past life I worked as a Personal Trainer and I've learned a few things about losing weight.  For starters, the Laws of Thermodynamics apply to everyone, including you.  This law is pretty simple, in that, in layman's terms, it just means that if you burn more calories than you consume, you will lose weight.  There are a few factors that can affect this equation, like metabolism, genetic predisposition and, in very rare instances, thyroid problems.

I've outlined a few actual excuses I have heard, and added what I think is the obvious solution:

1.  "I don't have time to exercise."
Answer:  I call Bullshit on this one.  But whatever - if you don't want to make time to exercise, then start eating like a supermodel.  Cut out all LDL fats, refined sugars and simple carbs from your diet.  Keep your caloric intake under 1,200 calories.

2.  "I have an old injury that prevents me from exercising."
Answer:  Again, I call Bullshit.  If you can walk, you can exercise.  If you're in a walker or a wheelchair, do some upper body exercises.  If you're neither in a walker or a wheelchair, and it hurts to do a specific activity, find another activity to do.  Elliptical machines are zero impact and most people can do them.  And they burn a lot of calories in a relatively short period of time.  And if you just don't like to exercise, stop blaming it on your injuries.  See Item #1, and "start eating like a supermodel."

3.  "I can't afford to go on a diet."
Answer:  Really?!!!  How is that even possible?  Eating LESS food is really costing you money?  Bullshit.

4.  "I'm a picky eater."
Answer:  Then don't eat.  Because that Pepperoni Pizza, Cheeseburger, French Fry, "little kid" diet that you're eating is killing you.  I've noticed a common theme among self-proclaimed "picky eaters," in that they have no qualms with eating junk food.  Vegetables are your friends and are very tasty when prepared right.  Just say "No!" to McDonald's.  And call your parents up and yell at them for not teaching you better eating habits.

5.  "I have a thyroid problem."
Answer:  Really?  You've been DIAGNOSED by a physician as having a thyroid problem?  Or you diagnosed yourself?  If you diagnosed yourself, then get in to see a doctor and have THEM confirm your suspicions.  If you really do have a thyroid problem, medication and/or treatments can fix that.  Stop dallying - your health is at risk.

6.  "I have a slow metabolism."
Answer:  You're right,  you do.  And it's all your own fault.  Your lethargic lifestyle, poor eating habits and yo-yo diets have jacked up your metabolism.  Go get yourself a book that explains the Food Pyramid.  Start eating healthy.  Drink more water.  Become more active.  Voila!  Metabolism is FIXED.

7.  "I'm an Emotional Eater."
Answer:  Someone said this to my husband and I laughed when he told me.  Cry me a river.  If your argument is that you have no control over what and how much food you cram into your own mouth and then swallow, then book yourself several months worth of psychological counseling.  Go fix what's broken in your head, before you do irrepairable harm to your body, and teach your children your idiotic eating habits, too.

Sadistical Grooming

Today I embarked on my bi-annual bikini wax.  I say "bi-annual" but that's really a little misleading.  Although I do get this done twice a year, it is usually some time in May and then again some time in July.  The rest of the year my nether follicles are safe from being uprooted.

And it never gets easier, less painful or any less embarressing.  I hate it.

And it makes me wonder, what kind of person goes into this field?  I mean, it can't even be accidental.  You must be licensed to do this.  WHO says, "I want to rip out pubic hairs when I grow up" ?  Who?  I mean, this job could be a candidate for that show, Dirtiest Jobs.  Some men may disagree.  But it's NEVER men who do this.  And if it were, they would have no clientele.  Because I can think of no woman who wants to expose herself in this way to a man pretending to be professional and desensitized.  And having your hair ripped out is just NOT SEXY.  I'm sorry but it's just not.  If it were, Mickey would be doing it.  And as you can tell from this post, he is not.

If you've never experienced this "treatment," here's what happens.  You go to an aesthetician's "salon" where there is a table covered in paper, a doctor's stool, a swiveling magnifying glass, and a vat of hot wax.  The clinician will talk in a soothing voice (hopefully) and attempt to make small talk as you strip naked from the waist down and hop on the table and assume the "butterfly position."  I'll save you detailed description and let you draw your own visual conclusion.

Then SHE applies hot wax to your nether regions, places a paper over the wax and presses down on it for a few seconds and then RIPS it off and says, "There.  THAT wasn't so bad, was it?"

And with tears streaming down my face, I say, "No.  Do you have any painkillers?"

And then the aesthetician laughs because I am such a kidder (not).  And repeats this process about 6 or 8 times until my pear is no longer prickly.  And then she applies some sort of ACID (Yes, I actually asked, "What's that you're putting on there?"  And she said, "Oh it's just ACID."  Imagine my relief).

Then she says, "I'll meet you back out front after you get dressed."  I'm really glad she didn't expect me to meet her up front naked from the waist down.  I take these few seconds to wipe the tears and snot off my face and very gingerly re-clothe my violated pear.

Then I pay my $50 and leave - safe to roam the beaches in a bikini for another 5 weeks.