Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Turning a Leaf

Or something like that...

It's been a long time since my last post and it isn't that I haven't thought of posting something it's that so many of my previous posts were so depressing I felt it was better not to spread the shit around. Yes, you're welcome.

Today I want to talk about boobs. You know. The big, flabby things that wobble around on the chests of most women. Until two years ago I never had boobs. Well, I had them but they were small and discreet things that minded their own business. When I was a teenager it was a bad thing. As an adult I learned to love the fact I was terrifically flat chested. I shopped in the children's department for bras until I was 40 years old. Oh yes. I stood in awesome self-righteousness when I saw a former cheerleader whose tits hung to the ground while seven or eight crotch parasites (term stolen from 'mommy wants vodka') ran around. I may have once envied those voluptuous meat bags hanging out there but NO MORE! Nope. I felt privileged at having enough mammary to feed my children but not so much as to dangle to my waist.

In the beginning when those first breast buds began to protrude my mother proclaimed that I MUST have a bra. Understand that way back in the 60's all those bras were stiff as concrete and marvelled in circular stitching so as to come to a perfect point. My sisters and I referred to them as 'pencil sharpener bras'. Honestly, I have never had a pencil so sharply pointed but that is beside the point. (Hehe... pun!) My stepsister used to get her bras a couple of cup sizes too big and I would make her totally crazy by punching a dent in her boobs when she wasn't looking. The funny part was that she never knew until for some reason she looked down. Hilarity ensued. Anyway, the aforementioned bras hurt the hell out of my ribs. It was like I was being held in a vice grip and I couldn't breathe. After a couple of days wearing a bra my ribs would start turning blue. The more I wore them the worse I hurt. So, I stopped wearing them. It wasn't a women's liberation thing. I never set fire to any of my underwear. I simply tucked the offensive underwear into the back of a drawer and tried my best to forget about them. Oh the shit I took over that! You would think I had set fire to a National Forest. I had less than AA size boobs but without a bra it seems everyone notices. Seriously, doesn't the world have something better to do?????

Years passed and when the occasion arose I wore a bra, white shirts, office Christmas parties and the like. It was all well and good until two years ago when I started to gain weight. Suddenly I have real boobs. Not the tiny things I had before but real, honest to goodness, floppy fat things wobbling around like two 'possums fucking boobs. I hate it. I have started wearing a bra when I have to go out in public because well, HELLO! I am totally irritated by my fat, floppy things laying across more fat floppy things and with this heat it's kinda nasty feeling so I've worn a bra just to keep that at bay. It's pain and bruising vs. fat sweaty stuff. Sheesh. How to choose?

I am pushing 60 years old and for the first time in my life I have boobs. What kind of fucking joke is that? I can't have boobs way back when I could have used them? Oh NOOOOO! Give them to me now when all they do is get in the fucking way. Merciful God my ass.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Go Ahead... Laugh.

This week has been so awful I don't even know where to begin. Maybe I should start with the vicious murder of my laying hens by some unknown creature. I found their feathers covering the yard when I went to feed them on Monday morning. Hubby decided the chickens should be let out during the day which was fine with me but I asked him to please close the door to the coop when he fed in the evenings so the chickens would be safe overnight. Guess what... For some reason closing the door to the coop was just too much trouble. I closed it whenever I was outside but I am normally in the house cooking supper so I couldn't always get to it.

Not having fresh eggs is the least of it. One of the hens was named Loverly. She has been here for a couple of years and she was sweet as honey. She would run to meet me every time I was outside and followed me around clucking as if we were carrying on a conversation. She ate treats from my hand and pecked at my ankles if I tried to ignore her. Yes, I loved that hen and it breaks my heart to think she died in terror while being torn to pieces. I keep getting mental images of that so sleeping has been kind of hard to do.

To add insult to injury, Hubby went to the Verizon store to get a new battery for my mom's phone. Easy task, right? We've had the same phones for four years. The numbers were rubbing off mine but it worked just fine. It was a simple phone. You know... the kind that makes calls, sends text messages and wakes me up in the morning. All I ever needed in a phone was right there in my hand. I have dropped that phone on rocks while riding my mule and it was none the worse for it. The goats have stepped on it and kicked it under the milk stand. It kept right on working. I loved that phone. Not much survives my clumsiness but that phone did it with ease. And then Hubby comes in with a Droid. WTF??? Folks, I have no fucking idea what to do with that thing.

Hubby likes to brag to people he got something fancy for me when in reality he buys what he wants and then justifies it by pawning it off on me. I spent 90 minutes with a nice young man at the Verizon store trying to learn how to work that damn machine. The very first thing I said as I entered the building was "Honey, the next time a big, inbred fucktard comes in here, points at something and says 'Oooh, shiney' please consider the people at home trying to put food on the table before you let the aforementioned fucktard buy anything'. The nice young man, Aaron, listened as I explained to him that a widget was not a good thing when I was growing up and that I had no idea what a wiki was but evidently they weren't worth a shit because it was all over the news that they leaked. He said "Pizza Hut" to the phone and a map came up. I very gently explained to Aaron that the Pizza Hut was a mile up the road and had been there for years. The only places I ever go is WalMart, Food Lion and my milking room. I've been going to Food Lion for 20 years without a map and I'm reasonably certain I can go another 20 without getting lost. Even the goats can find the milkroom without a map. I haven't been to a restaurant since I visited my children last June so that app is useless to me. Should I get to go back to San Francisco, my son has an Iphone and he can find the restaurants. My computer is four feet to the right of my favorite chair so I don't need a Droid to read my email. The TV is across the living room from that same chair. I have DirecTV (thanks to my nephew) and Netflix (thanks to my son). I have basic knowledge of the remote and can set the DVR to record my favorite shows. I live in a pissant Biblethumper town in BFE. Why on earth do I need a Droid? If I lived near civilization and had something resembling a life it would be different but...??? When I left Aaron, I still couldn't make a phone call. Less than 24 hours later as I struggled for ten minutes trying to type a text message I succeeded in dropping the phone and smashing it. Hubby got another one that evening but since Aaron has gone on vacation this phone isn't set up like the first one and if I couldn't work that one, I certainly can't make this one do anything.

I have spent the last five days sobbing until I'm sick at my stomach and my eyes are swollen shut. Hubby thinks it's hilarious to watch me try to figure something out while he and his family laugh their asses off. You would think I'd be used to being the butt of the family jokes by now but in reality it hurts just as much as it ever did. I went with my nephew to the Verizon store and we traded phones. He has the Droid and I've got something that's all scratched up and says "What are you looking at fucker" as a ringtone. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that but I am pretty sure I need to find something that won't prompt Lily and Laney to ask what a fucker is. *sigh* And it's only the middle of the week...

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Life Goes On


Help me, I'm sorry but I have to be the most depressing asshat in the universe. I don't mean to be. It just happens that way sometimes. I've even put off writing because I didn't want to come off so down and out. I'm not always that way but it seems to sound that way no matter what.

Also, I have someone hanging over me all the time so when I feel like writing I can't. Honestly, do you feel comfortable with someone leaning over you even if it's reading the newspaper? Nobody reads this shit so I want to be able to pour it out. I haven't yet been able to do that.

Yes, I'm still fat. I've lost five pounds but with a stomach so large I can't bend over without losing my breath so fucking what. I'm giving it a halfway honest effort so shut your whore mouth. I've thrown away all the skinny pants. With any luck that will be what makes me lose weight.

I haven't been riding with Sunday in a year. I miss her so much it hurts. I meet her at the fence each morning after I milk the goats and feed her treats. She's pasture crazy and I'm just nuts. Maybe someday we'll meet in the middle. I miss her so much. I wonder now if I can even get my big ass into the saddle.

My brilliant and beautiful daughter was home for a visit in January. She brought her intended, Maggie home with her. I love Maggie. She is a gorgeous person and she worships my daughter. Who could ask for anything better? I have worried for years about Sarah. She's never been one to chase skirts and she's had very few serious relationships. I can tell she loves Maggie and more importantly for me, Maggie loves Sarah. They are moving in together today. I wish I could be there to help them. Since I can't be there, I love you girls! Be well and be happy.

In my boring existence, I am entering the local chili cookoff. I know... duh. But, in my defense, I make a fairly good chili. We like it anyway. I thought if for no other reason it gets me out of the house and it would be fun. I'll let you know how that turns out.

Seriously... I need to get to this more often. It helps to put things on 'paper' so to speak. It would be easier if I didn't have to wait til the middle of the night to do it!

I need a vacation. Hmmmm.... Florida or Oklahoma? Who the hell am I fooling? Until some money starts coming in and there is someone other than me to milk the goats where the hell am I going?

I want to shop for shoes. That would make me feel soooo much better!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Happy Frikkin' New Year


As much as I hate to sound like every other depressed asshole in the world, I really hate the holidays. I love Thanksgiving. Rather, I used to love Thanksgiving. My family would get together and we would cook an enormous meal that everyone ate with fantastic abandon. We haven't had a Thanksgiving dinner in a couple of years now. I don't know what happened but it makes me really sad.

Christmas on the other hand I totally despise. If I could somehow jump the calendar from Thanksgiving day to New Year's day I would. Once upon a time I had a magnificent collection of ornaments collected for my children. Due to yet another of my bad decisions the huge box of ornaments was taken from me and after that, it hardly seemed worth the effort. And yet I tried. I honestly tried. I made all new ornaments and decorated tree after tree. I smiled until I thought I would puke but I kept doing it. Finally the kids grew up and moved away. There has been only one tree in my living room since that day. It only happened because Luke and Sarah came home for Christmas at the same time. I can't tell you where any ornaments are if they exist at all.

I dread the holidays as if it were the black plague. I sit here alone every year and this year the worst thing was when on tv someone complained that sitting home alone meant nobody loves you. Yeah. Go ahead. Rub it in.

As if I don't feel bad enough about myself, I have gained another 10 pounds. I weigh more now than I ever have in my life. I am so uncomfortable. I'm paying attention to what I eat and cutting down on portions but I've never been one to eat enormous amounts of food to begin with so cutting down is rather hard. I'm beginning to wonder if I can live off a nightly spoonful of peanut butter.

I'm not looking forward to another year. Every year is worse than the one before. The highpoint of this year will be the day I get my walking cane because I can barely make it from point A to point B without something to hold onto. I can no longer raise my right arm over my head and my right hip will just barely hold me up. I have never been one to sit around doing nothing. This shit is getting the best of me and I can't seem to stop it. I'm trying to figure out how I can keep doing things because when I can't get up and go anymore, what's left?