The Voices in My Head

Ok-so it's time to get back at it again (blogging, that is-certainly not laundry...) because the story-voices in my head are backlogging, and Mr B says that now my mouth is actually moving as I crazy lady whisper-talk to myself...  So yeah, maybe I need to write stuff down so I can at least stop grimacing, wincing, and giggling to myself...  I can see how that might make others a bit twitchy and uncomfortable...

H(ysterectomy)-ville Retrospective:
You know how you should never try to tell a joke and then afterwards lamely attempt to explain the intended humor?  Well,  I should heed my own advice, but I sorely wish I had recorded those petty-yet-significant-in-the moment-uterus-dramas. 

Such as... (Beware the GORE!):
1.  Mr B accusing me of dropping jello-shots on the bathroom floor...
2.  My vague discomfort that I was routinely flushing unnamed blood babies down the toilet to their watery graves with only the briefest of unsentimental Cottonelle ceremonies...
3.  My new Indian name....  Mattress Slayer
4.  My angst over how one should wear one's hair upon waking post-surgery and knowing that Menopause (that vicious bitch!) is gonna be waving the flames of hell under your tatty, sweat soaked hospital nightgown...
5.  Cute-boy-gynecologist-surgeons.... Laws...  The perpetual stress of attempting to modernizing one's lady parts for the young and knowledgeable...exhausting...  But I refuse to even consider Vaggazling...
6.  However, I did have lengthy conversations with lady friends over the merits of the Brazilian... or is it the Bermuda triangle???
7.  Mr B likened my potential Brazilian idea to putting a new paint job on an old car and then parking it in the garage for 6 months...  what a metaphor smart-ass, huh???

Well y'all....  I guess that's enough fun for one morning.  And it is time for me to pop another Oxy, so I will sign off, but please rest assured that all is ultimately well, and complaining might just be an art form after all.

Yoohoo! ... Honey! I'm Home...

Ok-it's been awhile... like forever, I know.  Honestly, I didn't even know if I still knew my password.  Et voila!  Here I am...  My last few menopausal synapses are firing.... for now.

As for my virtual disappearance, I experienced a Renaissance moment and went all rustic-retro:  as in actually paying attention to real people around me instead of dwelling in the subterranean snarky murk of cyber space.  And it's been refreshing, actually.  I have to say the air is cleaner and more refreshing in the land of real time/real people-albeit more exhausting and frustrating.  We all know that  staying present in your real life requires more courage and persistence than liking another e-card making fun of whackadoos. 

Here are a few hilites from my rustic-retro-hiatus:

Big kid turned 15 and had a massive teenage party.  Did you know that having 30 teenagers at your house feels like having 175 chimps hang out in your living room???  It was practically a rave party... with adult supervision.  Mr B was on glare-patrol the entire event.  He was also the unofficial music Nazi.  "Did you hear those lyrics???" he accuses me as I'm be-bopping to the base beat handing out glow sticks, totally oblivious, as he marches off to unplug the offending I-Pod.  He also sent lil brother on reconnaissance missions to the bonus room to make sure no "funny business" was happening on his watch.  As a result lil brother ended up in the middle of a mosh pit, totally stoked and ready to get his PAR-TEE ON!  All the kids had a blast, but I'm not sure Mr B and I have what it takes to do that again.

Oh!  And at the last lady party I attended, somebody got mad, somebody cried, and somebody puked.  When's the last time you were in a crowded powder room with 5 people having a good sympathy puke...???   Good times!!!  No lie...

Just to let you know I still have my priorities in order, I spent a fortune having my stylist put in a bucket load of reddish-blonde hilites (Sweet Mary-I have pole hair, y'all!), and Easter weekend officially kicked off my spring pedicure:  Spicy Shrimp is my color of choice!

Oh, and Mr B has given me a new stripper name:  Chardonnay-nay!!!  More on her later...

Laws y'all...!   Typing all this has been exhausting...  gotta go smoke a cig now...

Merry Merry!

 

I've got up both my Christmas tress, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, the village is nestled in the snowy cabinet, the reindeer are precariously perched from above, and thousands of Santa's are silently glaring and judging from the entry hall table.  Perfection!  Only prob:  I ran out of steam and didn't put up the nativity.  Which even made Mr B a little nervous around all those glaring Santas...  Looks like baby Jesus is just gonna have to chill in his sock this year and let the santas win this round... I swear I am gonna put extra in the offering plate this season.  SWEAR!  It's just that I am D.O.N.E. decorating.  For realzzzzz.

Life is actually clipping along over here at a steady pace.  Mr B has joined the ranks of the employed and is dealing with the daily grind of brutal commuting, packing boring leftover lunches, and ignoring bitchy, moody co-workers who punish others for their problems at home.  Ain't getting a paycheck great?!?!

Life at home is sweet and easy.  Lil brother swears he NEVER has homework... and I am totally getting on his bandwagon... the report card is prob gonna be a brutal b*tch slap, but oh well...  Big kid is being chill and mostly mature but is still throwing all his sh*t around the house like phones, books, shoes, pencils, balls, belts, as if they were honest to God Israeli missiles over Gaza... What's up with that??? ...And he also turns on every light in this house and then immediately leaves that room because.... he can????  What's up with that????

On the GDMFC! front-I am D.O.N.E. with radiation!   WOOHOO!!!!  It' is such a relief to not have to show the titties to er'yone all the time.  I could never be a band groupie, that's for sure.

Of course I'm now entering unchartered menopausal waters, but gah, y'all...  That's even MORE boring than GDMFC.   Sheesh...  So here' the wrap up:

Big kid:  Hey, mom, what is menopause?
Me (striking a Victorian pose: pointed toe, nose in air, wrist on forehead):  It means I'm dying.
Big kid:  Oh.  Ummm-kay...  So what's for supper???"

Yeah...  And that about does it for over here at the UBB headquarters!

Boyless

Since all the fellas at Unabashed Blather Headquarters (The UBH-sounds terrorist doesn't it???) were zombie camping this weekend, I totally had a slacker-girly weekend.  Meaning all my clothes from my closet are busted out and thrown in discarded, drunken piles, jewelery and hair bands are sprinkled like dead cockroaches all over the house, the sink is full of dirty dishes, and half consumed diet cokes in dirty cups have sprouted on my nightstand.  Basically I talked on the phone for hours,  trolled the Internet for eons, smoked cigs in my PJ's with wild abandon, and spent my grocery budget on a facial/massage.  Who needs well balanced meals when there's a stale box of Cheez-Its in the back of the pantry behind the ice cream salt???

Oh, but I also had a fun girl date!  Hence the busted out closet...  I finally opted for big sparkly earrings and a gray/black ensemble with suede boots and a turquoise scarf.  By the end of the night the earrings were lost, and I was drunk as a skunk on four glasses of Chardonnay.  A perfect therapy session with a smart, beautiful friend who refuses TO KISS ASS!!!  Ever.  For anyone.  How hottttt is THAT?!?!?

The boys are returning soon, so I have to hang sh*t back up in the closet, load the dishwasher, take out the trash, and flush the butts.... totally worth it...  even if that means I have to turn into a kitchen slut for my real life.  I can totally sympathize with Cinderella...

Oh! Oh! Oh!  CELEBRITY SIGHTING ALERT!!! 
Winona Judd sat at the table behind us, and I totally caught her checking us out...  for REALZZZZZ!!!

For now, I am sitting amidst the chaos totally feeling the peace and contentment. 

What happens at the UBH-stays at the UBH!!!

Mental Health

I finally asked the cancer doc for some depression meds.  Due to my imminent 5 yr rounds of medically induced cancer menopause, I only had one option....that gave me chronic morning sickness, dizzying head spins, and the spitting pukes.  So I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, blew my nose, and flushed that option down the tank.  And am now man handling my own sour disposition with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, just double dog daring a b*tch to come have a piece of this.  And people think zombies are scary...  Oh yeah, and winter is closing in, and we will all soon be trapped inside.... together.

I am supposed to be working with a trainer on physical/mental wellness.  Well, f*ck that.  I texted her a terse message that I needed to cancel our appt.  And what then does she sweetly do???  Why, texts me back trying to set up another appt for next week, "same time???"  I have now decided to text her that I have a pinched nerve in my lower back and will be "resting".... indefinitely...while smoking cigs and burning calories channel surfing .  What the f*ck's up with people not getting the f 'ing brush off these days???  ....  sheesh!

But I do have a facial/massage scheduled for today and am seriously considering pulling the trigger on purchasing a new Fossil handbag...  which is making me all twitchy and stoked about planning outfits around my uber trendy new bag...   Retail therapy is my new drug of choice.  Because being financially responsible and physically healthy is for douche bags...

Ranting and Such an All

I have been doing my daily radiation and fighting exhaustion and a bad attitude to boot-hence my blog slacking.  Basically I've been in my bathrobe hunkered down watching those trashy, slutty Bravo Housewives act the fool for to our endless delight.  Not a pretty picture, mind you... of me or them, frankly.

But I did have a recent resurgence of my former sharp tongued glory when I found myself picking a fight with a couple of preachers over gay bashing and pulpit politics...and then hit the send button on a scathing email which totally made me look like a liberal, gay loving, yellow dog Democrat.  Sigh...  And that's pretty much the truth of it although I generally try to keep my political vitriol off the Internet.  Well intentioned preachers have been banging the pulpit and waving the bible in futile attempts to keep blacks and women out of the voting polls for ages-all in the name of the High and Mighty.  Yet, look where we are now.  Baby, we've come a long way...!   I just want to punch stupid white men in the head sometimes-while smoking a Virginia Slim, mind you.

I even told Mr B that I might even put a gay rainbow sticker on my car just so the gays would know that I've got their back in the upcoming election-and to piss off those snooty, small minded preachers!  Mr B was wise enough to say nothing-which means that I currently do not want to punch him in the head.  Miracles can happen...

See you at the polls!

Fall Break Project

Our big project for fall break has been mucking out the boys' bonus rm/man cave.  Laws...  what a dusty, dark, nasty hole!  So I give Mr B fair warning, grit my teeth, ask my MIL to pray for her son and heirs' safety (this kinda project makes me wanna go all Roman and crucify deserving folks), and pull the trigger.  Natch'rally.  And it is a catastrophe-with fair results.  Mr B and I bicker the whole time; lil brother goofs off and doesn't listen or help much; big kid turns every job into a throwing athletic contest while mosey-ing around oblivious that his padre is snarling and foaming at the mouth and his mother has turned into a vampiric ice queen with psychotically narrowed eyes.  Mr B did eventually apologize (vaguely), and I did eventually warm up (slightly).  And the boys continued to be clueless that their parents nearly d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d and moved into one bedroom apartments on the wrong side of town. 

Big kid said it best: "Hey mom, did you know that 98% of marriages end in home renovations?"

Big kid (who's getting a lil big for his britches) keeps at it: "Hey dad, remember in that movie when that guy said, 'Marriage is like a rickety bridge.  Just don't put any stress on it and it'll be fine?' " 

Hells bells!  Ain't that The Truth?!?

After I have my chuckle over this touchy (yet truthful) metaphor, I banish big kid to the bonus rm/man cave.  Natch'rally.