Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Girls' Night Out or National Geographic?

I was recently contemplating the last time I went out for a totally wild and crazy girls night out. You know, those nights you just want to dress like Snookie's slutty mom, drink too much tequila, and place bets with your girlfriends on who can last the longest in 4 inch heels? The nights you know damn well you are going to drink so much bad tequila you will be blaming that shit for your badass (awkward) dance moves and amazing (cat in heat) singing voice? Those nights.

We are old (late 30's) so we had a plan. Yes, we plan shit when we get older. Like your mom does.

We did all the right things: My friend's husband was designated driver (and security), we ate before we started drinking, and we asked the DJ to play songs that didn't suck. PS: Why do those assholes never listen? I HATE that dance remix crap. Just when you think you're moving in the right direction, they mix another stupid song in and totally mess up the groove. Pretty damn dangerous after you've had a few shots and you're dancing around in high-heeled boots. Disc jockeys, listen up: Play some funky leg-humping jams and let us act half our age for shit's sake. How hard is that? We don't care how badass your record scratching skillz are. This isn't 8 Mile. And you're twice as white as Eminem is. Knock it off already.

I gave that bitch some Levels!

ANYWHO - I was very optimistic about this night out, regardless of the fact the DJ kept playing douche-tastic spins that barely resembled any music I've ever wanted to listen to. I was maintaining a delicate balance on the heels of my boots, and I was feeling fabulous. Sorta.

Maybe the problem was that I was not drunk enough. I mean, in my 20's I was able to go out almost every weekend, drink until last call (and try to bribe the bar tender for a few extra) and almost always (key word – almost) stay on my feet. I swear, I had many, many EPIC nights out with my friends. We wore EPIC clothes and drank EPIC shooters and dissed the most EPIC douchebags. It was so much fun - wasn't it? Huh.... I think I was probably just so obliterated I didn't realize how much it really sucked. Blackouts were a gift.

This time around, I was more observant. I now realize how closely the bar scene resembles something from the National Geographic Channel. The predators (men or something resembling the male form) are surrounding the hunting ground (dance floor) waiting for their prey (drunk, half-dressed women) to fall so they can cull the weak ones from the herd one-by-one. The closer that clock gets to 2:00 a.m., the wider their eyes get. The saliva dripping, they start to growl; rubbing their paws together in anticipation. You can SMELL their desperation as they are making their selections. It's really quite sad. What's even MORE sad is the girls whose self esteem is dependent on being able to leave the bar with some snaggle toothed knuckle dragger who can't even properly hold her hair out of her face while she's puking, much less hold an erection lasting longer than 10 seconds.

Now, I can't say I have NEVER been that girl. Let's be honest. Shit happens. Tequila clouds our already-tenuous judgment. But, when you grow the fuck up and take a look at what is going on out there, it takes the fun right out of it.

My biggest annoyance is that, for some reason, most men seem to think that any woman on the dance floor is fair game. It's like they figure, well, if she didn't totally want to jump on my junk, she wouldn't be shaking her hips like that. Really, dude? We shake our hips for the same reason guys scratch their balls - because we can. (Or because we can barely stand). I'm a pretty independent girl, so I can handle myself, however, when I see some idiot going for a cop-a-feel move on one of my girlfriends, shit is gonna go down. Just don't, dude.

We shouldn't have to take self-defense class to enjoy ourselves. All I dream of is a world where women can dress like total whores, get completely wasted and have guys leave us alone so we can go home by ourselves and cry about how fat and ugly we must be because none of those assholes paid attention to us.

Is that too much to ask?


Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Are You Emotionally Slutty?

Amazing young beauty with handsome man in bedroom Stock Photo - 9336200

We all know one don’t we?  The slut.  The friend who is never home on a Friday night and has a smile on her face all week.  Generally speaking, a slut is a woman who gives her body indiscriminately to whoever strikes her fancy or scratches her itch.  A woman who acts like a man, but we give her a dirty title so she feels like a lesser person for it (that is a subject for another blog).   Anyway…
What about emotional sluts?  How are we emotionally slutty in new relationships?  What does it even MEAN to be an emotional slut? 

Emotional sluts tend to give too much information too soon.   Discussing issues from past relationships before establishing a new one.  It's about giving away your heart and exposing your vulnerabilities before it’s appropriate.  Let’s face it:  Raping his ear for hours before he even has a chance to determine if he likes you or not.  Sound familiar? 
First dates are not the time to talk about how many times you’ve broken up and how every guy you’ve ever dated told you how crazy you are (you may want to see a shrink about that by the way).   It’s not the time to discuss how you have trust issues or how men who chew with their mouths open remind you of your father, who, by the way, was kind of an asshole when you were growing up.   (That’s really more of a twelfth date subject.)  It’s also not the time to bitch about your ex and discuss every single flaw he had or asshole behavior he demonstrated to you, while projecting all those bad feelings on the innocent (yet slightly terrified) man sitting across from you at the dinner table.

What do you think is going through this guy’s head as he is attempting to appear as though he is listening to your rambling train of thought (which has long-since de-railed)?  He’s trying to figure out how he can possibly manage to discreetly decline the dessert menu and get out of this without exchanging phone numbers, yet still have sex with you.  He’s mentally shopping for duct tape and ear plugs.  Yes, he is even contemplating ditching you in exchange for a quiet masturbation session at home.  What would YOU do in his situation?

Now, I’m pretty much perfect as you all know, but I can say I have found myself doing this, ON OCCASION.  Maybe not on a first date...  First dates are for re-directing the conversation to him so I can avoid talking about myself.  I try not to sabotage things until at least date three.  I mean, a bitch has to eat, right?  But, seriously, by the third date I am trying to figure out what the guy’s angle is.  We’ve had a few meals together, maybe we’ve had a little fun on the side.  What more is there?  I’m not LOOKING for a relationship.  Hmph.

So, what happens next?  We deploy Operation: Emotional Slut.  (Lock and load, bitches).  This is not usually a conscious effort on our part.  This comes from actually having been in shit relationships that probably caused a hell of a lot of damage and issues that, quite frankly, most men wouldn’t touch with another man’s borrowed pole.  But subconsciously, I am pretty sure we are trying to sabotage the these new opportunities in order to spare ourselves from that dreaded “F” word:  Feelings.  *shudder*  

If you think about it, isn’t this the same reason some girls are sexual sluts?   It’s so easy to be slutty with someone, but the other stuff, the relationship stuff, is hard.  It takes work.  And I don’t know about you, but I am pretty fucking tired.  So, if we hammer them with unwanted information, they will run like hell and we can justify our insecurities by telling ourselves “See?  He didn’t like me either.  Forever alone.”   And we “don’t know why.”  You do now.  You were an emotional slut.  You sabotaged it yourself because you are insecure.

Try opening your ears and closing your lips for a minute.  Wait to hear what he has to say before you railroad him with all your baggage.   Learn how to accept a compliment.   Maybe, just MAYBE he’s not an asshole who is waiting to hurt you and run like hell.

Maybe he…likes you. 

Monday, July 2, 2012

24 Hours Is Never Enough: A Mother's Diary of Insanity

This is the re-post of a blog I wrote when my youngest was a baby.  

I am reasonably certain that the whole 24 hour day was created by man.   Not "man" as in "human".   A man.  The ones who can pee standing up and don't have to dry their hair in the mornings.  Some dude who figured he could neatly fit every little thing he needed into that span of time, be productive, and get a good 6-8 hours of sleep.  It wasn't a woman.  And if it WAS a woman, it was one with no children who only needs 4 hours of sleep and her lipstick always looks perfect.  She probably has time to brag about it too.  


I've got a newsflash for you:   24 hours is NOT enough.  And to prove my point, I give you the following typical  day in the life of this work at home mom:  

6:30 a.m.
Alarm goes off. Clock is on HIS side of the bed. He sleeps through tornados. Climb over his shoulder to punch the snooze button and jab him in the ribs to try and wake him up. This, of course, doesn't work.
6:45 a.m.
Alarm goes off again. Consider kicking him in the balls to encourage a quicker response. Decide against it as I value my life. Once again, jab him in the side and punch alarm clock.
7:00 a.m.
Alarm goes off again. Climb over him, pick up clock and throw against the wall. For some reason, the sound of a clock smashing into the wall wakes him up. I roll over and put the pillow over my head. I'll get up in 20 minutes.
7:20 a.m.
He gives me a kiss goodbye, reminding me of my intention to get up earlier. I grumble something to the effect of "bite me – oh, and have a good day" and roll back over and try to get back to sleep.
7:45 a.m.
My son is awake. "Mom…….MOM……… MOMMMM!!!!" I jerk upright in bed "Um, mom, are you awake?" I place my finger to his lips: "No talking to mommy before 8:00a.m. – go read your book." I toss myself over and pull blankets over my head, determined to get a few more minutes of sleep.
7:46 a.m.
I hear the baby crying. Dammit. 
I pull my sorry ass out of bed
7:50 a.m.
[skipping the part about peeing and brushing teeth]. I go to the baby's room and see that since I waited 5 minutes to get her, she has managed to unzip her pajamas, pull them off, remove her diaper, and is sitting there smiling at me. *groan*
8:00 a.m.
The baby is now changed and dressed. I stumble out to the kitchen to pour coffee. Spill half of it on the counter. Pour in some milk. Go wake up my oldest daughter. My son is following me "Mom, MOM, can I get on the computer?" I say "Did you EAT yet? [hiss, snarl]"
8:15 a.m.
Oldest daughter is awake, and in bathroom doing her hour-long morning ritual of beautifying herself for…….no particular reason at all. My son is looking in all the cupboards and the fridge declaring everything we have unfit for consumption. The baby has removed her shirt.
8:30 a.m.
My son is grumbling over a bowl of cereal, the baby is tossing her cereal across the table, apparently trying to hit her brother with it (I have to admit, she's a good shot) My oldest daughter is still primping. I holler at her to hurry it up and get some breakfast. She has "nothing to wear". 
9:00 a.m.
Mommy is on the back deck with the sliding door firmly shut, sipping coffee for a moment. Son is on computer, oldest is finally eating breakfast and the baby is eating crayons, er, I mean coloring.
9:15 a.m.
I venture back inside reluctantly. Finally get dressed, put my hair up in a clip and – oh – I better make some toast or something to eat.
9:45 a.m.
Everyone fed and out the door to take the kids to the library for 2 hours of reading and summer time volunteering. YAY! 
10:15 a.m.
Back home. Older kids are at the library. I think I'll get on the computer for a few minutes to check in my fellow bloggers and online friends. Baby climbs on dining room chair and pulls full glass of juice to the floor. @$%!
10:30 a.m.
Floor and baby cleaned. Nick Jr. on television to occupy the child for a little while.  Pour second cup of coffee. Go to log onto computer. Phone rings. Mother in law wants to know if she is going to see the kids again before they turn 18. I assure her that is highly likely. We then proceed to talk about everything that has happened in the last month.
11:00 a.m.
Go to log onto computer. YAY! I made it! I have messages and comments and no time to respond to them. Yep, I'm a big jerk. Feel momentary guilt and then remember – uh – it's just the damn computer. You'll get to it soon enough.
11:30 a.m.
I've responded to a few messages and read a few blogs and started typing a blog of my own. I realize it's very quiet all of a sudden. Where is the baby??
11:31 a.m.
Find baby coloring a mural on the living room wall. Take crayons from her and begin scrubbing wall with one of those magic eraser things. Trying to keep the cursing under my breath.
11:45 a.m.
Time to go pick up kids. Change baby's diaper, grab purse and head out the door. Put baby in car seat, sit in van and can't find the damn keys. Go in house, tear it apart, finally find keys in bottom of laundry basket where my baby girl apparently put them.
12:00 p.m.
Now I'm really going to pick up the kids.
12:30 p.m.
Everyone home, lunch is served. "If you don't like it don't eat. [heading off my son's complaining] but you don't get any snacks or anything else until dinner." I swear I heard him curse under his breath.
12:45 p.m.
Kids eating sandwiches and soup, actually enjoying it but trying not to show it to me.
1:00 p.m.
"Moooooooooommm! We're bored." 
I reply: "The toilets need to be cleaned!"
1:15 p.m.
Kids are shooting hoops outside in an effort to escape the slave labor mom has promised
1:30 p.m.
Oh yeah – I should eat something for lunch
1:45 p.m.
Lay baby down for nap and cross fingers that she will actually sleep.
2:00 p.m.
Kids are inside "Mommmmmmmmm!! We're bored!" I let them come in from the fresh air for awhile and tell them they can watch a movie or something. 
2:15 p.m.
I've eaten an apple, a yogurt and the other half of my daughter's sandwich. Time to get to work. I go sit in my office and realize it really needs to be organized. I begin going through paperwork. I see a bill that is due. Oh man, I'd better call them and pay that right away…..[you can see where this is going]
4:15 p.m.
I've accomplished about one hour's worth of actual "work", and neatly arranged paperwork in stacks. I've paid five bills and done two loads of laundry. Oh yeah, today is looking up.
4:20 p.m.
Baby wakes up – Diaper duty, snack and juice. 
Kids go outside for awhile.
4:30 p.m.
Dammit, what's for dinner? Is it against the law to skip a night?  (Note to self: Research legalities of switching kids to every-other-night dinner schedule)
5:00 p.m.
Cook up some chicken stir-fry and eggrolls while peeling my baby girl off my leg and yelling out the window at the kids to stop fighting.
5:30 p.m.
Kids come in to argue over who gets to set the table and who gets to pour milk. I'm about ready to tell them both to take their meals outside and drink from the hose.
6:00 p.m.
Dad's home, dinner served. The "How was your day" routine begins. He can tell by the look on my face that they should skip me.
6:30 p.m.
Dinner's done, I escape to have "me" time. Which means either grocery shopping or going to the gym.   Be still my beating heart.
8:00 p.m.
Mommy returns. 
Baby goes to bed.  
Kids watch TV. 
Dad napping on the couch.
8:15 p.m.
I've finished cleaning up the kitchen and contemplated folding laundry. I decide it will wait until tomorrow and I return to the computer, determined to write a blog.
8:30 p.m.
I realize I have total writer's block.
8:45 p.m.
I'm IMing my writer friends and avoiding the laundry.
10:00 p.m.
I really should go to bed.
11:00 p.m.
I'm getting really tired. I should stop reading blogs and go to bed.
11:30 p.m.
Eyes drooping….Finally an idea for a blog pops into my head. Unfortunately I can no longer keep my eyes open long enough to type.
I'm out

Sunday, June 10, 2012

What Men Really Want

I know it is unusual for a woman to sit back and think about what men want in a relationship because, well, we usually assume it includes sex, sex, sandwiches, football and sex.  But, in observing my own relationships as well as those around me, I picked up on some very interesting tidbits.  Here is what I think men want in a relationship (Men, feel free to correct me on these..):

Men want women to treat them with respect and appreciation. I think most men need to hear more about what they are doing right than what they are doing wrong. Ego plays into this heavily. But women also need to realize that men need us to tell them how we feel and how much we appreciate them. So don't be afraid to let him know just how much you love the things about him. Throw your arms around him when get gets home at the end of the day. Make him feel like a million dollars.

Men want more straight-forward relationship. Men crave a relationship free of manipulation. I think men get frustrated with the games women play sometimes. They wish we knew they cannot read our minds. Frankly, I think men wish we came with a user manual. Although, admittedly, I think a lot of women wish men could read our minds. Actually, we usually wish we knew half the crap that is spinning up there ourselves. Our brains are too complex. Ouch, my head hurts.

Men like to be with self-confident and secure women. I think that no matter what opinions we women have of ourselves, men crave being with a woman who is self-confident. I personally believe that a man would choose an average looking woman with terrific self-esteem over a knock-out beauty with numerous insecurities.

Men like it when we nurture them. I know this is politically incorrect, but men like it when we cater to them. And, personally, if I am in a relationship where there is mutual respect, I enjoy nurturing my man.

Blowjobs. A lot of them. This is self-explanatory. I put it in the middle of the list on purpose – although I'm sure a lot of men would've put this one at or near the very top! Nothing says "I love you" quite like a good old-fashioned mouth hug, amirite?  Forget the hallmark card girls – this one works every time.

Sex with the lights on. This goes back to the security and confidence issue ladies. No matter how curvy or thin we are, large breasted or flat, big ass or small ass, we all have insecurities. However, men are visual creatures. They want to drink us in. So we should drop our insecurities (along with our panties) and go for it.

Men want us to get along with their friends and family. Men want woman who can joke with his dad, talk to his mom, and hang out with his friends from time to time. A man wants a woman who can get along with all the people in his life. If you can meet him after work with a group of his friends and he knows they aren't going to moan and make whip-cracking noises when you arrive, you're in.

Men want a woman who doesn't nag. And trust me guys – women hate it when we realize we sound like we're nagging. This goes to the communication issue. Sometimes we women need to take a look at how we communicate with you guys – and sometimes you guys could stand to be a teensy weensy bit better at listening………..just sayin'. [Or was I nagging………..dammit!]

Men want a woman with intelligence, creativity, and ambition. Men want a woman they can discuss things with on deep meaningful levels. The deer in headlights look when discussing current events can be a turn off.

(Obama who?)

Men want a woman who challenges them. By this I mean, men want a woman who will keep him on his toes. I think most men get relaxed in the relationship when they feel it is secure. Don't put the relationship in neutral. Keep it fun and interesting.

Men want a woman with a sense of humor. If a woman can laugh at herself from time to time, the relationship is in good shape. Sometimes we tend to take ourselves too seriously. Loosen up ladies!

Men want a woman who is trustworthy. Faithfulness and commitment are essential to any relationship. Men are less likely to be able to forgive infidelity than women, so they are seeking someone they can trust.

Men want a woman who takes pride in her appearance. This may sound shallow to some and relationships aren't solely based on looks, but men do want to be with someone who takes pride in her appearance. That being said, guys, please don't complain when we pay to have our hair done, our nails done, and to go get nice-fitting clothing. Deal?

Quickies. Men want quickies. Yes, women take longer to get warmed up than men do. But sometimes, men want the sex without the hour long foreplay. And with the right person this can be amazing, right ladies? So every now and then, let him dirty talk you and bend you over the kitchen sink.

Men want women who will say "I love you". A lot. Yes, they need to hear it too ladies.   I think they are all a bunch of big softies on the inside. 

(Don't tell them I told you that.)