Forget About It!

When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free. ~ Catherine Ponder

It's called a break-up, because it's broken like that vinyl 45 your mother split in half because you would not clean up your room, yet we all have different ways of dealing with the demise of a relationship. It doesn't matter who broke up with who. You still go through a string of emotions that make you feel as if you are one fit away from a straight jacket and a padded cell. Anger is a standard emotion, yet it is also a secondary emotion. For a secondary emotion, anger can feel pretty prominent. You think about a career change. That career being a life-ruiner. You conjure up mind games that would make Albert Einstein's head spin and brain explode.

Your first order of business is training for the annual Victoria's Secret fashion show. Looking good is the best revenge.

You constantly poke fun at your ex as if they were the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

You may even take your communication level back to middle school by prank calling them. *67 overpowers *69 every day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Post break-up there are so many twists and turns. The journey is like traveling down the yellow brick road, but instead of meeting the scarecrow, cowardly lion, tin man and the wizard, you meet despair, resentment and denial. The wicked witch comes in the form of the herd of monkeys on your back. You must meet "forgiveness" in order to heal.

Until you have completely moved on you will not be available to stand in line to get on the roller coaster with somebody else, because you can't ride two horses with one ass. Also, unless they are complete morons, which you don't want anyway, I think potential suitors can sense when you are not over somebody. So forgive, before you get caught being stuck and stranded at the gate. Best of all, when trouble walks back into your life disguised as your ex-boyfriend you won't even notice.

P.S. I forgive you...

Tales Of Drinking

I took my first "real drink" in middle school. By real drink I mean Jack Daniels who I might add is the most reliable boyfriend I ever had. I babysat for this couple who had a stocked liquor cabinet at all times. One night I raided their liquor cabinet. I didn't want to make my thievery too obvious so I put a little bit of this and a little bit of that in empty mason jars. How Southern of me. I remember being in total fear as the father drove me home, because you could hear rumblings of all kinds of liquid in my purse. Little did I know, but he had other things on his mind. He had just come home from taking his wife out to tell her that he was leaving her for an interior designer that worked for him. Yes, I hold the title of babysitting while a divorce was in the making and a heart was breaking. I remember offering my little sister some whiskey. She cautiously dipped her finger in it. I waited for a response. She hated it. That moment will forever be etched in my memory, because now she will more than likely suck the alcohol out of a deodorant stick.

Once I turned 16, my college prep work entailed drinking Boone's Farm. My posse referred to it as Strawberry Hill. Every Friday and Saturday night we would venture off into the ghetto and make our purchase. With Chevy Blazers and Ford Broncos full of kids we always had massive orders which were brought out to us in cardboard boxes. My order was always the same. I got two bottles of Strawberry Hill each time.  You would have thought that my mission was to start foaming at the mouth.  I think I stayed so thin, because I puked a lot.  I got busted by the cops during spring break of my senior year.  Even though I was completely passed out I knew I smelt bacon.  Luckily for me, they called my parents to come get me and sent me on my way.  After my father retrieved me and took me home my parents kept telling me that they didn't raise me to act that way.  TRUE!  They raised me in such a manner that I would want to drink more.  I made it worse by hanging over the toilet and confessing to my mother that I had recently lost my virginity.  I always seem to know how to kick people when they are down.

Before I left for college, I spent the summer at the Holiday Inn Gazebo on the beach.  My best friend was of age so she would sneak me these alcoholic drinks referred to as "frozen things".  One day it was hot as HELL and I skipped breakfast.  Needless to say I was still working on maintaining my figure by puking.  We were just about to leave the beach when I went to go shower off.  This loser started hitting on me and I don't know what he was thinking.  It looked like I had Bain de Soleil all over my face.  That was a messy day.

Once I went off the Florida State I never went to a fraternity party without my nickel beer mug.  I always kept that thing full of Malibu coconut rum and orange soda.  Wow, have my preferences changed.  Once, I turned 21 it just wasn't as fun to drink anymore, however when I entered the corporate world I took it up as a hobby.  I started drinking everything I could get my hands on and I am still there.  I am no quitter!

Making A List And Checking It Twice...Life In Lists

Tell me your secrets. Everybody has secrets. What are yours? We all have quirky little things that we prefer. I myself, enjoy savoring the aroma of ashes as well as ice. I know, beyond weird. Examining my unique quirks prompted me to make a list of the things I like. There are several books that you can use to write lists in. One of the more popular books is My Listography: My Amazing Life in Lists by Lisa Nola and Nathaniel Russell. I recently purchased This Is Not a Book by Keri Smith at Urban Outfitters which leads me to my list.

I like:
Urban Outfitters, butterscotch, Cheese Whiz in the can, garter belts, Jimi Hendrix, pork, antiques, crosses, vampires, Voo Doo dolls, dorks, sea monkeys, fuzzy blankets, grape cigars, decoupage, candy cane green tea, baseball players, cupcakes, mirrors, skulls, wine, candles, crunchy ice, The scent of babies and men, pistachios, vodka, CHANEL, wood floors, The Rolling Stones, sunshine, menthol, road trips, Bob Marley, Bushwackers, honeysuckles, the beach, mini-dresses, books, cats, bikinis, oysters, orchids, gnomes, horses, baked brie, rosaries, green eyes, boots, Run DMC, General Hospital, scarves, heart shaped cutting boards, eggnog, bunnies, champagne, football, cranberry chevre, disco balls, motorcycles, tattoos, rock candy, boyfriend shorts, lingonberries, candles, skyscrapers, sushi in moderation, stained glass, pearls, picture frames, hot pink records, blowing on Dandelions, vintage dresses, board games, pillows, a little bit of scruff, astrology, Christmas lights, hot cocoa. My list could go on and on, but I don't want to bore you. This is already the most boring blog I have ever written.

Start making your lists! If you don't have a book to write in then write your list on envelopes that bills have come in. You know the kind. The envelopes that you rip into and throw the bill away without looking at it thinking that you will pay it when you start to actually make some "real money". Don't forget to decorate your list!

Peace Of Mind Equals A Piece Of Your Mind

Have you ever been around somebody who was an absolute tyrant? Somebody who was so insufferable that you wanted to cut them? I think we have all have had to deal with people like this whether it be a co-worker, acquaintance or family member and this is exactly why I carry a blade. Yes a blade! As a fashionably conscious woman though, it is masked in a lipstick tube and a cool lipstick tube at that. Think retro Estee Lauder.

I once worked with a girl who I wanted to spit nails at every time she walked by. She was a fat bitch in every sense of the word. I hated her and I knew she secretly hated me. For the record I hated her, because she hated me. What really perplexed me is that she told me some juicy gossip about herself which I really could have used to ruin her life which I haven't, YET, and then she proceeded to be an even bigger bitch to me after that. I thought to myself, "are you kidding me?" Unbeknownst to her, she did not want a piece of me. I was ready to throw her in an industrial restaurant style oven and bake her and serve her up as the infamous appetizer favored among rednecks know as a "pig in a blanket". I debated each day whether or not I should take on the role of "life ruiner" in her life. Finally I just threw my hands in the air and ended our acquaintance. What I really wanted to do was to tell her to go play in traffic with all of the other big people and by other big people I mean 18 wheelers, but she was in charge of payroll and I needed shopping money. So instead of giving "big girl" a piece of my mind, I walked out with my head held high and my nose even higher in the air. I just kept telling myself that "karma is a bitch" and "what goes around comes around." Most importantly, I am a Scorpio. Enough said!

My Christmas Tree Has Fallen And I Don't Feel Like Picking It Up

If I hear one more person exclaim that they put on weight during the holidays I am going to ask them if pounds have been added to their ego. My idea of celebrating the twelve days of Christmas this year involves hibernating with Evan Williams egg nog. Tis' the season to be in a very bad mood. I'm just not feeling it this year which brings me to thoughts of the best Christmas ever.

Throughout the years we had always spent Christmas day with my grandmother, however, one year she was missing because we did not want to drag her out of her glorified nursing home. Poor Granny. She was so old that she ran out of breath moving from the living room to the dining room table. We were eating lunch and my father came up with the greatest idea ever. He thought we should get in the car and drive to New Orleans. Now he was speaking my language! So we all piled in the car and jetted off to the "Big Easy". Once we got there we walked around in the cold rain for what seemed like a lifetime looking for a place that was open. Yes, it was Christmas day, but it was New Orleans. They say that New York City is the city that never sleeps, but whoever coined that phrase has never been to New Orleans. We finally found a supper club that was open. We ate dinner and listened to jazz. After leaving the restaurant we went back to our hotel if you can call it that. The only hotel my father could find was a Ramada in the French Quarter that needed some serious help. Remodeling in progress. Really? I felt as if I was in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. While taking a shower I honestly feared that I would be stabbed over and over and over. As all good things have to come to an end, we woke up the next morning and Christmas was over and I didn't have to think about it again. As I reflect on this trip I realize that this Christmas too shall pass.

Bah Cockroach!

FSU...The Ultimate Party School...From The Metro Conference To The ACC

Memories...Light the corners of my mind...

Even though I love sports, I never blog about about them, because there is usually nothing humorous about losing. Besides, it's not like I am Erin Andrews. There is only room for one beautiful, leggy blonde in sports and she took that title a long time ago.

In August of 1991, I ventured off to Florida State University. I had the opportunity to live the dream that so many teenagers wanted and that was to be a Florida State Seminole. I went to FSU when it was cool, before it joined the ACC. Yes, the ACC did alot for FSU, but at the same time once they joined the ACC, NIKE took over all of their branding. It was much more fun being independent. There were bumper stickers that read "I Bleed Garnet And Gold" and "Kiss Me I'm A Nole", as well as t-shirts that read "You Can Always Retake A Class, Bur you Can Never Relive A Party...FSU...The Ultimate Party School. There were also t-shirts that saluted players like Casey Weldon and Amp Lee. Two of my favorites read, "Dinner Tonight At Doak Campbell Will Be Served Wel-Don" and "It Takes (however so many) Lights To Light Up Doak Campbell, But It Only Takes One Amp".

One of my greatest memories was at a house party hosted by the baseball team. Dan Mowry who was the kicker at the time walked in and boasted, "when are you going to play some country music"? One of the guests came back and shouted, "when you learn how to play football"! I think he was just hoping to hear "Friends In Low Places" by Garth Brooks. Those were the days. The days of the infamous "wide right and wide left". The days of people crying on street corners outside Doak Campbell Stadium after a close loss to Miami. The days of one of the best wins in college football history when FSU smacked the shit out of Michigan.

After joining the ACC, FSU did go on to win two national championships, as well as play for several national championship titles. FSU earned the right to sport rubber alligators with garnet and gold spears piercing through them after the "choak at Doak". There was also this great baseball cap that was green and had a spear piercing a clover which was made to poke fun at Notre Dame after we beat them a few times. Those were definitely the days.

And, if you haven't been to a home game at FSU then you have truly missed something spectacular...The "chop" performed by 80,000 plus fans and of course, Chief Osceola riding out on to the field on Renegade the horse and planting the spear at the 50 yard line.

With Bobby Bowden leaving, it is the end of an era, but as Shelby exclaimed in Steel Magnolias, there are still good times to be had!

Deck The Halls With Balls Of Horry...Fah Rah Rah Rah Rah Rah Rah Rah~The Ghost Of Christmas Past

I know Christmas is approaching, because I have been freezing my cute little tushy off in mini-dresses the last few days, and have also been hearing all of my favorite Christmas songs on the radio. It takes two songs to get me in the mood for Christmas...Only two..."Last Christmas" by George Michael and "Christmas in Hollis" by Run DMC. It takes two, not to be confused with "It Takes Two" by Rob Base. Believe it or not, that song actually had a moment amongst all of the other bad 90's tunes. Honestly, I'm not going to lie. If I heard Rob Base right now I would dance all around my apartment like it was 1999. BTW, NYE 1999 wasn't as thrilling as I thought it would be. Okay, enough is enough, I am talking about Christmas memories and not how ADD affects your attention span.

Some of my best Christmas memories involve car rides. When my sister and I were little, my mother would load us up in the car with blankets and hot cocoa. She made sure that we were in our best pajamas. The purpose of the car ride was to drive around the neighborhood and look at Christmas lights, however, I think I ended up suffereing permanent brain damage. My mother had a pimp-ass Ford Falcon. It was red and it was smokin'. There was one small problem with the Falcon. It had a hole in the floor board of the driver's side. The hole was covered up by the floor mat, but somehow God intended for carbon monoxide to penetrate through the hole and kill my brain. I am convinced it was the carbon monoxide and not all of the Mary Jane I smoked as a teenager.

Another entertaining car ride occurred a few years ago. My entire family which included my parental units, sister and brother-in-law and maybe even a dog drove to see some sort of light extravaganza on Lake Lanier. One yard featured a Santa figure who kept bending down and bobbing. Let's just say it appeared that Santa was simulating an exercise of oral pleasure. Next I heard, "hmmmm...what is Santa doing"? That question will stay with me until the day I die.

I have too many other Christmas memories to list, but I have to add that my sister and I would play the "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" LP over and over and over just like a broken record. We still randomly ask each other "Santy Claus, why are you stealing our Christmas tree"?

Last but not least, my father took me to see "A Christmas Story" when it first came out in the theater. Yes, I am old, but I thank Baby Jesus this Christmas that I still look good!

Happy Holidays!

Best Friends Forever~An Acceptable Excuse To Act Silly

I know all those people. I have friendly, social, and criminal relations with the whole lot of them.
-- Mark Twain

My birthday this year reminded me of how much I value my friendships with my girlfriends. I have always had an opinion about those girls who say that they have very few girlfriends, because they get along with guys better. What? We all get along with guys better "in bed" unless you are of the lesbian persuasion which I am down with like 4 flat tires.

The end of my 37th year and the beginning of my 38th year started out with 2 of my favorite girlfriends who I traditionally spend Friday nights with. In fact, the first night all three of us ever partied together, I broke up with my boyfriend right after I got home. In the beginning of the evening we were all a mess. We always have alcohol and not a single one of us came with the usual bottle of wine or champagne. I literally started shaking and almost burst into the most glorious panic attack because I was ready to get the party started. So there we went...Off into a sunset filled with men that would want to buy all of us birthday shots for the rest of the night. I think we forgot that we were in Atlanta. It felt more like Miami. The night was eventful to say the least...The very least. I met a real estate agent/drug dealer in a bathroom, I made friends in traffic and I ran through several parking lots in an attempt to ditch a stage five clinger while my friend kept yelling, "don't stop, he is going to be able to notice my hot pink shoes!" Needless to say, the night ended with me wanting to expel all of the liquor that I consumed.

Now on to day 2 which was my actual birthday. I spent most of the day hungover, but once nightime fell I was ready to go again. This time, it seemed more like Vegas. I picked out a dress that screamed, "not a one night stand, but maybe?" I was off for another night on the town. I had no idea what was in store for me until I hit the first bar. Birthday shots were what was in store for me. After a dose of club hopping, my girlfriend and I stopped by a neighborhood lounge, and well the rest is history. Somehow, I sinned in sin city.

On day 3, after all of the drinks, presents, birthday wishes and romps, I realized that the best present I received is a gift that I am able to partake of year round and that is quite simply my friendships with my girlfriends. They will always be there to tell me that if a guy doesn't like me it is because he is gay!

All Blue-Eyed People Are Related ~ Inbred Hillbillies And Their Flair For Looking Ridiculous

Somebody mentioned Memphis today and it got me to thinking...I have no idea why they mentioned that triple "T" (tragic Tennessee town). Maybe they did it to terrify me. I went to Memphis for the first and definitely the last time this summer. I would rather pluck my toenails off one by one with tweezers than ever travel through that trailer park ever again. I don't even remember why I went there. It is all a blur. Oh yeah...It is starting to come back to me now. I went there to audition for a game show by the name of "Who Wants To Date A Loser?" Memphis is a fashion train wreck. It lacks class and taste altogether. Every single female I saw was pumped full of silicone in more than one place. I remember in one of my favorite movies of all time, "Waiting To Exhale" when Whitney Houston's character Savannah stated that if she had the nerve she would get some real breasts. Um, her breasts were real and they were beautiful. In many cases, women save every last penny to get implants and then what happens? One deflates and they can't afford to get it replaced. Nice. At the least the ones they had before were probably the same size. Something else I noticed in Memphis was that all of these girls had two-toned hair and wore colored contacts. Do you know how scary a brown-eyed and dark haired girl with ice blue contacts and blonde streaks appears? It looks like a skunk and a raccoon inbred. If you know me well, then you will know that the worst part for me was the display of designer imposters. Do these people really think that CHANEL carries anything that looks remotely like what they are wearing? I imagine all of the cheap hair dye has them confused.

Take it from me ladies...Men like the REAL thing. I should know because every moment of my life is like the ritual the bride shares with her bridesmaids and female family members before she struts down the aisle...Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Something old: I have ex-boyfriends from 10 years past wanting to take me to mardi gras balls. Something new: I have a new boy interested in me everyday. Something borrowed: I am contemplating borrowing one of my father's guns to ward off these losers. Something blue: All of this attention makes me blue in the face.

Please do not be fake and most importantly do not wear fake CHANEL jewelry or carry around fake Louis Vuitton handbags. It is a crime!

How Do You Afford Your Rock And Roll Lifestyle?

"Well, your father went out and bought a new gun so I am buying jewelry." ~ My Mother

This morning I made the mistake of inquring with the patriarch of the family as to why he bought another gun. He simply told me "to not worry about it". Harsh. My guess is that he is expecting something to go down in the hood. Or on the other hand, he has worked hard all of his life and he deserves to buy whatever he wants and not have his motives questioned by his daughter. God, Jesus, Joseph, Mary, Moses and his credit union know that he has done more than enough for me including college tuition which I flushed down the toilet like 2 dead goldfish (R.I.P. Sambo and Sadie), 5, yes 5 cars, several moves to wherever this spoiled brat wanted to live and the list goes on. DISCLAIMER: If you contact my father to verify this list and to get him to expound on it you will be robbed of the pleasure of ever reading my blog again so don't do it! Basically, I never wanted for anything, and any ex-boyfriend of mine will claim that I am a spoiled brat, but they also know that I always say "to know me is to love me" and if you don't like that concept or my "brattitude" then you can step out of line.

My father said he would support me from the cradle to the grave. Not once did I ever hear that "he couldn't wait until I was 18 so he could be done with me". I think that particular kind of language only rolls out of trailer parks anyway and I did NOT grow up in a trailer park. Far from it, in fact. Even though I suffer from having a Daddy Warbucks, I have decided to let him retire from supporting me. Therefore, it is time for ME to support my lifestyle. My father once told me that I could not live within his means, because he had no means to live within. Nice. Must be nice. Now I see that it is time to grow up and stop living within his means and live within my own made-up means. I have always lived by the motto that it takes a village which includes a hairstylist, a plastic surgeon and a therapist. BUT, how do you mange to afford your village when you have bills, bills, bills??? Easy as Eazy-E!

For starters you need to think of 20 different ways to spice up ramen noodles. Think back to your college days. My father gave me plenty of money to eat off of in college, but I decided to spend it all on clothes, therefore, I would raid my roommate's ramen noodle stash. Sorry roomie. I made up for it by sitting with her in the hospital after she drank 2 bottles of Nyquil. There was never a dull moment at FSU.

Secondly, you should hang out with drunk people. Drunk people are always willing to pick up the tab, because they feel so good that they forget they have bills. If you get lucky, they might throw money at you. And, in this economy I recommend you take it. Taking money for doing absolutely nothing does not make you a prostitute.

Finally, you need to hang out with cool people. Cool people have connections.

So go find you some cool people to hang out with, wait on your donated champagne (being beautiful and witty is always a good cause) and explore the goodie bag that I like to call LIFE.

Aunt Alert

A recent chain of unfortunate events coupled with a reoccurring nightmare prompted me to want to make a change in my life and a big one at that. I thought about what I always say to people..."Cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it." I needed a plan to "get over it". I decided that the day after payday which is two days from now that I would pick up and jet off to Mexico. As I was holding my cute nephew yesterday, I thought it would be a great idea to take him as a companion. At 5 1/2 months, I think he is ready to travel. He is an awesome little man. I prefer to travel with men who are taller than me, but whatever. He obviously thinks I am attractive, because he drools all over me. I must make him happy, because he is constantly smiling at me. The only down side is that when he is fussy, I really don't know what he is trying to tell me, but the upside of that is I can just plug his mouth so I don't have to hear his accusations. I have this technique where I slip the tip of my finger in the outside surface of his pacifier and he seems to love that.

I have one problem. Now that I have alerted my sister and anyone else who has access to her facebook page that I will promptly be kidnapping him at 6 am Wednesday morning, I realize this is not a good idea and I must say farewell to my little nephew. I have written him a letter and it goes a little like this:

Dear Nephew,

Your Aunt that makes everybody smile has totally screwed up her life and realizes that only sun and alcohol will make it better. Even an "on-again, off-again" said that one day my babies would be born with umbrellas in their belly buttons. I will dearly miss you, however, I will send you messages in bottles (empty airplane bottles of tequila to be exact). I look forward to the day when we can be reunited with your first drink.

Love,
Your Crazy Aunt Who Your Mother Says You Love Because She Is Who She Is

Yay! I'm going to Mexico! Hasta la vista!

The More I Know About Men The More I Like Cats

Ever heard these phrases? What part of meow don't you understand? Be the person your cat thinks you are. We got rid of the kids, because the cat was allergic. No outfit is complete without cat hairs. You are nobody until you have been ignored by the cat. My cat lets me live here. The cat and its housekeeping staff reside here. It is a cat's world...Adjust.

I had a big night planned...Huge. However, the cat seemed to have other plans. I was going to a rooftop party in Midtown with some of my girlfriends and with all due respect, I was ready to m-i-n-g-l-e if you know what I mean. I looked fierce. I had on a mini dress which consisted of a red tube top and a zebra bottom, a brushed gold leather jacket, Michael Kors 5 inchers and I was going to flaunt an oversized snakeskin bag. I should have never gotten dressed before the finished product was unveiled. I was putting on my lipstick when my cat Izabella decided to paw at me. The lipstick trailed all the way down my face to the bottom part of my dress. It didn't help that added pawing caused me to poke my eye out with eyeliner and tear my last contact lens. Needless to say, I was ruined. My night out ended up turning into an evening spent with the cat in front of the TV. We shared a bag of popcorn from Trader Joe's and watched Alfred Hitchcock movies all night. I guess kitty was trying to tell me something. Thanks Izabella!

Love Loathing

Writing a letter to an ex-boyfriend is a form of art. If by any chance you are having trouble writing a letter to your ex-boyfriend, you should visit this link for a few helpful tips: http://www.the-jokes.com/fun-pages/exbfriend.php

The Long & Short Of It: The Cons Of A Long Distance Relationship, Because There Are No Pros

Vivian (Pretty Woman): When I was a little girl, my mama used to lock me in the attic when I was bad, which was pretty often. And I would pretend I was a princess... trapped in a tower by a wicked queen. And then suddenly this knight... on a white horse with these colors flying would come charging up and draw his sword. And I would wave. And he would climb up the tower and rescue me. But never in all the time... that I had this dream did the knight say to me, "Come on, baby, I'll put you up in a great condo."

Somebody telling you that they love you and that they will be back for you one day may seem like a good deal to some, but not to all.

If you have ever been torn about whether to pursue or continue a long distance relationship, you should observe the cons of a long distance relationship. Clear your schedule because the list of cons is long.

There are feelings of loneliness and emptiness. It is emotionally stressful. There is no physical intimacy. You can’t spend quality time with your partner or engage in fun activities with them. There are misunderstandings and conflicts that are not resolved when there is a serious breakdown in communication. You can’t be there for each other during unpredictable events. There may also be trust issues that arise. Instead of appreciating each other and your friendship more you end up resenting the sacrifices you need to make to be together.

Maintaining a long distance relationship can be one of the most trying experiences of your life. Adjusting to life without the presence of a loved one can make everyday life a harrowing process. It's painful to be so removed from your partner's life. If you are unsure if you should continue or develop a long distance relationship with someone you care about, it will be up to you to make the decision. It can be very difficult to cope with dating someone who lives so far away from you. There can be a lot of frustration and misunderstandings that are created from being apart for so long. Sometimes the distance is insurmountable, but if it is meant to be then you can possibly successfully be reunited again someday. Unfortunately, in the meantime, if you are separated, it is difficult to continue and enjoy the relationship.

Faux Real

A good way to tell if a guy is genuine is by how long it has been since his last serious relationship and if he has been dating. It is important for him to rebound from his last love and although men can move on faster than women, everyone needs time to re-evaluate what they are looking for in a partner.

Do not fall victim to the “mating instinct” where men and women are quick to want to match up to try to fit a sometimes square peg into a round hole.

Find or wait for somebody who you like, figure out why you like them and take things slow. Slow, tortoise and the hare style. Also, "WAIT" is the operative word. You never know where you are going to find your sunken treasure.

Oh Baby!

DISCLAIMER: My oven does not have a bun in it. The piranha has not cracked the egg yet.

All changes when one has a baby. It is the start of a brand new life. Mixed drinks turn into mixed emotions. You wonder if it will be a boy or a girl and what it will think of the world. You realize you are really growing up and settling down.

There are several fun activities that you can do to prepare for children. To prepare for children you should go to the grocery store and arrange to have your salary paid to their corporate office. When preparing for dressing small children, buy a live octopus and try to fit it into a ziploc bag without its tentacles hanging out. To prepare for messes, take chocolate and smear it all over the furniture. Also, hide a fish behind the refrigerator and leave it there all summer. When preparing for long trips, tape a recording of someone asking "are we there yet?" repeatedly. There should be no more than a 10 second delay between questions. When preparing your vehicle, take Chuck E. Cheese tokens and slide them into the cd player. Also, take peanut butter cups and smear them all over the seats.

Looking back on my childhood, the conditions for creativity resembled a perfect storm. I was a builder. I took my mother's best bed sheets and made tents in the backyard. I was a beautician, because I would give all of my dolls haircuts. No need to be a plastic surgeon, because Barbie already had huge fun bags. I was also quite the barterer. I would "borrow" my mother's belongings and trade them with my neighborhood friends. I was a chef. I would set up a taco bar weekly for my parents.

Like most kids, I could not wait to grow up. If I knew then what I know now I would have wished upon a different star.

I find myself wondering where time went and why did it leave me all alone. Time went so fast. It seems like yesterday that I could not wait to be older. Looking back, those were the best days of my life. I survived trying to find myself. Now I have boxes of unspoken dreams. You think of all the things you were supposed to be and never will be. Treasure the memories that you will always remember. Live in forever, and hold on to the moments.

Mending Fences & Hearts: Discovering Yourself In The Eyes Of Another

Katie Chandler: See that's all I want to do Billy-Boy. I want to leap off this pier and fly high in the air and hang with the wind and drift through the clouds, and at night, with the moon full and the sea wild, I would meet my lover high on a cliff and we'd swoop down into the ocean and swim all the way down and touch the bottom and come up through the dark water and break the surface. Then we'd fly to Jamaica for Pina Coladas... God, I wish I could do that.

In 1988's "Stealing Home", Billy Wyatt is a washed-up, middle-aged baseball player who is called back home to handle the ashes of his first love, Katie Chandler who had committed suicide. As he searches for what to do with them, he remembers the past and the relationship they had. In doing so he finds himself again.

To some this movie is so bittersweet that it is sickening, but it touches the heart in a way that leaves you nostalgic. This is my favorite movie and it ALWAYS inspires me to reflect.

There was a point in my life when I was in love with somebody who didn't love me back. He was infatuated with me, but he just didn't feel the same way I did. I found that I was trying to alter myself to his pleasing or what I thought he liked. I compromised myself. I seemed to stray away from people who could appreciate and return my adoration. This way of thinking was a quick launch to a negative space that certainly affected all aspects of my life. I had to break that cycle and refocus myself and my sights on something or someone else. I had to find myself again. It took several years to do so, but once I did I was ready...I found my way back to me and everything I used to be.

One morning I woke up and looked over at somebody very special and realized that it was time to let go. I jumped out of bed and rushed to post the following note on my facebook page:

How Fast Love Letters Burn...
Friday, May 8, 2009 at 6:46am
I gave my heart away a long time ago to somebody...Somebody who didn't really deserve it and I never felt like I really got it back, but now I have a new heart. Because I am FINALLY letting go, I decided to pull this love letter out of the vault, that which has collected so much dust. The person which I speak of asked me to write him a love letter so I did and it goes a little something like this...

Dear (Name Has No Relevance),

I will touch my mouth unto the leaves, caressingly, and so wilt thou. Thus from these lips of mine my message will go kissingly to thine with more than Fancy's load of luxury and prove a true love letter. I will whisper something into your heart. I was born to be yours, and I gave my life to you as soon as I saw you. I have only seen you, I have admired only you, I desire only you. I love in you that which is eternal and precious--your heart and your soul. You alone have succeeded in combining the strength and devotion of a man with the delicate tenderness of a woman; the most luscious fruits of friendship with the most fragrant flowers of love. Now in the quiet of the morning and in the warmth of my bed a drugged and dreamy feeling steals over me and I am with you once more. Lying here I love to think you near me, your arms encompassing me, my head buried in your shoulder, catching the rhythm of your breathing and living for a few exquisite moments as one being--I said I was dreaming, but I am so delightfully intoxicated, relishing such heavenly moments with you that I wish it to go on forever. Today a new sun rises for me; everything lives, everything is animated, everything seems to speak to me of my passion, and everything invites me to cherish it. The fire consuming me gives to my heart, to all the faculties of my soul, resilience, an activity which is diffused through my affections. Since I loved you, my friends are dearer to me, and I love myself more. I have told my passion, my eyes have spoke it, my tongue pronounced it, and my pen declared it. Now my heart is full of you, my head raves of you, and my hand writes to you.

Love,
Diane
© 2001

Somebody finally came along and sealed my broken heart and he filled it with love and happiness. He is forever in my heart. Even when he is gone, he is near to me. He knows a part of me that I could never find. I hope to one day heal him the way he has healed me. It's unbelievable, but I believe it...

The Rumbling In My Gut Was My Inner Bitch Commanding Me To Breathe & Shut Up!

As somebody who has been on and off the proverbial couch for the last 19 years, I am convinced that everyone complains about their parental units in therapy. I once had a therapist tell me that people do the “best that they can” when referring to our life givers. Do we really do the best that we can? When I think that I do, I soon realize that I don’t. As soon as I realize that I need to make a change in my behavior, that is when I realize that I am not putting my best foot forth and that I can do something differently. My uncontrollable temper and unfounded insecurities enable me to believe that I am doing the best that I can, but my heart leads me to believe differently.

Case in point, I have spent every other few days of the last several months bitching, pissing, moaning, yelling, screaming, threatening, throwing things and the list goes on when it comes to the best thing that has ever happened to me. Why does he stick around? I have no idea. I am not trying to push him away. I don’t think I keep pushing to see how far I can go, but just because I don’t think I do something doesn’t mean that I don’t do it. I have always prided myself on not being a nag, and now I have turned into something worse…A collage of temper tantrums with arms folded, bottom lip out and stomping so hard that my knees come up to my chin…Not sexy. I know that I can make him happy, so why aren’t I making an effort to make him happy?

I realized today, that if I want to hold on to him I better shape up or I am going to be on the next ship out which will be the Love Boat and I will be alone. Do I have a problem with being alone? No, however, I do have a problem being without him. I love every single thing about him, because all of those things are what make him the person that he is. Granted, he is no saint, but none of us are. Show me a saint and I will give you a cookie. My mother always said that my grandmother was a saint. As much as I loved my grandmother, I beg to differ after hearing some of the slurs she made in her old age…Not nice, Granny.

Today it hit me like a dodge ball in the head. My man (That's right, I said it...My man and nobody is woman enough to take him) is completely stressed out about anything you can think of and ready to pull every last piece of his facial hair out and my biggest stress today was having to go to Ulta to get the nail polish I wanted because Sephora didn’t have it. I know, boo-hoo, right?! I had to swallow a bottle of my own medicine and it tasted like castor oil circa The Little Rascals. That is when I realized that I need to go to boyfriend support boot camp. I will get there, because he is worth it.

I thank my lucky stars that everyday he must drive by a billboard that states “love is patient, love is kind”.

Let's Not Get Married: Eluding The Highly Overrated Fairy Tale Wedding

As a blossoming young girl who had her own visions of the big, obnoxious wedding that she would have one day, I was dragged to countless weddings. I actually looked forward to them, because during each wedding I attended, I exclaimed to myself, "THAT'S MY DRESS"! Looking back, I picked out some pretty tacky dresses for myself. I really actually went for the cake, because I certainly did not go for the pastel mints that resembled mini mounds of soap. That was when cake was good. It was full of sugar and nobody was worried about their health or their weight. We had Olivia Newton-John and her "Let's Get Physical" video to thank for that. Once the cake was eaten, it was forgotten, but not those little napkins that I walked away with. I had quite the collection of personalized napkins commemorating the nuptials. These little napkins would later help me wipe my tears when the divorce was final. Like a fine bottle of wine, the personalized items that we walk away with from weddings have only gotten better. I recently went to a beach wedding where they were bestowing personalized koozies upon their guests. Now everytime I want to remember that dreadful day that I walked away with sand in my eyes, mouth, panties, etc. I can pop a beer in my personalized wedding koozie and sit back and enjoy the memories as if I were watcing them on video. The koozie will also come in handy when it is time to toast the divorce.

Don't be mistaken, I am all about getting married if you find the right person. I have just lost that lovin' feeling for the desire to have a big wedding which will only produce an incurable migraine and a mountain of debt. Not all of us live in Jersey where people give you cash as a gift. BTW, tres tacky. A big wedding or any wedding where there are more people involved than the bride and the groom is like throwing any other party. You pay for everything and your main mission is to entertain your guests. Not to mention, you are completely stressed out anticipating that everything will go well. There is alot more involved in a wedding than some chips and dip and a few people at a house party.

It is not the wedding that is important. It is the marriage. Think about what is important to you. If all you want is a big party with cake and a dress, you don't have to get married for that. Just buy a nice Diane Von Furstenberg dress and a pair of Christian Louboutin's and slip them on. There are plenty of family reunions that you could crash in Alabama. As far as the cake goes, I can guarantee that they will have at least two types of cake...Coconut and Red Velvet.

So, what are you waiting for? Elope and diffuse any thoughts of being a bridezilla. Fake your wedding planner's death if you must. Invest your energy in to planning your life with the person you are going to marry and not the "big day", because the average couple has about 18,250 days to be concerned with.

Ceiling Cat: Life From A Cat's Perspective

Ceiling Cat is known to teleport between houses and poke his head through holes in the ceiling to watch people do things that a good WASP never mentions. If there is not a hole in your ceiling, then he will make one. Some consider this to be an invasion of privacy, but if Ceiling Cat does not approve of something, he is known to destroy entire planets with his deadly eye lasers.

It is debatable whether or not she has mythical or supernatural powers, but last night at bedtime, Izabella also known as "Izzy", "Bella", "Izzy To The B", Bitch and so forth was at it again. That is, she was having an intimate encounter with the ceiling. She was relentlessly, visually pursuing a bug that was naked to my human eye, especially in the dark. It was if she was Ozzy Osbourne and barking at the moon. Her death-defying meows translated into "I'm melting, I'm melting!"

Like a good cat owner, I succumbed to her threats and smothered this poor bug so she would put a lid on it. At least the bug died in comfort. I only use the best toilet paper with aloe vera in the between the sheets. As I lay there wondering why I am in an abusive relationship with a pet, I proceeded to pet her to calm her down and that is when it happened. She broke out into a kitty hissy fit. It was like she was using the excuse of "Not now, I have a headache." I am willing to bet the $1.33 in change in my beer money jar that I will go to my grave not understanding what makes cats tick like a time bomb.

So while I may not know much about what goes on in my cat's head, I have managed to figure out a thing or three about her.

She is pretty good at running a household. She is a wonderful hostess. She always accompanies guests to the bathroom. She doesn't find it necessary to do anything but just sit and stare.

She also likes to read, because everytime I pick up a book she gets in right underneath my chin.

She seems to want to help me improve upon my coordination skills because she tests them out frequently. She darts quickly and as close as possible in front of me especially when I have something in my arms.

Cats believe that humans have three primary functions which are to feed them, play with them and clean their litter box. It is important to maintain your dignity and show your cat who is king/queen of the castle. Right. Once again I am about to go home and ease into the front door, hoping that my cat will give me permission to stay for one more night. One thing is for sure, I can definitely count on her rubbing in my face the fact that she can lick herself and I can't. Wish me luck.

Running With Simple Instructions: Accepting & Admitting That You May Have Jumped The Gun

When women go wrong, men go right after them. ~ Mae West

I have made an olympic sport out of making mistakes. If you don't believe me you can obtain reference letters from my friends and family who so kindly put up with my antics. Whatever you do, please don't get my boyfriend started. However, if you insist, make sure he has plenty of water so he doesn't lose his voice.

The "Wrongs of Diane's Life" begin with waking up every morning. I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. That is wrong. I was born with a crooked foot. That seems wrong. In the 1st grade, I bribed some afro-clad kid named Marvin to do my homework with a pack of grape Hubba Bubba that I "borrowed" from my grandmother. Now that just felt wrong, when the teacher found out and hit me over the head with a book. True story. She ranks in my top 2 of the most bitchiest teachers in Florida. In the 3rd grade I dug a ditch in the front yard. I knew that was wrong when my mother got me up early before school the next day to fill it back up. Does anyone remember how early elementary school starts? Yeah, she got me up pretty early. There I was with a shovel in my pink flannel nightgown. The only other people who were up were the sanitation engineers. In high school, I got caught smoking in my bedroom of all places and drinking underage. The parental lectures and stares I received were just wrong. I can't sit still as it is, much less sit through a lecture where somebody is professing that "they didn't raise me that way".

We are all guilty of maintaining stubborn pride. Somebody once nicknamed me "stubborn-proud". MOST men are way too stubborn to admit when they are wrong. They would rather shove bamboo underneath their fingernails as opposed to the simple act of apologizing. I would expect nothing less of a group of people who don't even like to stop and ask for directions. Let's not forget how common this trait is among women. SOME women will pretend like nothing happened. It is as if their mind has been erased.

As much as it stings like a farm of bees who lost their honey to the government, you should assume responsibility and admit when you are wrong. Next, you need to realize the consequences of your mistake. Finally, you need to make things right and ask for forgiveness. Even if that means cleaning up something that AJAX would struggle with.

For as much as we are wrong, we are also right. The key is to finding the things you are good at and right about and practicing them, because practice makes perfect.

I myself, have just about perfected being forced to tell my boyfriend that I was wrong after every stupid fight that I started. Now that is the "right" thing to do. Hopefully he will marry me before I commit too many more wrongs and drive him so crazy that he smothers me in my sleep. Now that would be "wrong".

Swimming In A Black Sea Of Life's Little Annoyances: A Guide To Ranking Your Pet Peeves

A pet peeve is simply all that stands between reality and the enchanted land. It is your neighbor's annoying pet that prevents you from being happy. I myself, have adopted several breeds of pet peeves. People, places and things are just the beginning...

For the last solid year the automated voice at the McDonalds drive-thru that screams "Welcome to McDonalds. Would you like to try a latte or an iced mocha?" cannonballs me into a stuper of irritation. Why does this annoy me? Because I am usually at McDonalds after lunch or dinner. Why would I want coffee at 7 pm? Also, usually the only time that I ever frequent McDonalds is when I am seriously hungover. I just want a greasy cheeseburger and a nap. I do not have any desire to stay awake and meditate on my misery.

Some days just waking up annoys me. I curse God for letting me take another breath. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can hear my mother now. Yes, I am grateful to be alive. I think being pissed off about waking up is just my violent reaction to the prospect of people spending their entire day swarming like teacup cockroaches underneath my skin. What else bothers me? The question is who else. Nosey people bother me. They are rude. If you want to know Santa's long list of the rest of my pet peeves then you are being nosey, Pinochhio style. You really should find your own pet peeves to play with.

Get annoyed and make your list. Rank your pet peeves and see which ones you can dump off at the pound. Please be a responsible pet owner and dump your unwanted pet peeves off on complimentary dip day so that they are fresh and clean for somebody else to take ownership of. Set your pet peeves free for a less stressful life. Do not quote me on saying stress free.

If by chance, you can't think of any pet peeves just perform a google search for other people's pet peeves and your result will be an advertisement for an online anger class for $99.

Feng Suede: Rearranging Your Closet & Your Relationship...Stop Standing In Glue & Move Forward

Patty: Cool outfit!
Barbara: What a severe suede!
Cindy Mancini: You guys, it's no big deal. Bobby sent it to me from Iowa. You know they have fine leathers down there.
Patty: Oh, yeah. The best leathers come from Rome, Paris, and Des Moines!

In 1987's "Can't Buy Me Love" Ronald Miller has had a crush on Cindy Mancini for years. Cindy doesn't even know his name. In fact, he had to remind her on several occasions that his name was "Ronald" and not "Donald". Ronald is your typical nerd and Cindy is a popular cheerleader. At an opportune moment, Ronald makes a deal with Cindy to spend $1,000 of his savings to replace a suede outfit Cindy damaged that belonged to her mother. Cindy has few options and reluctantly agrees to help him look "cool" by pretending to be his girlfriend for a month.

In the late 80's and early 90's, suede had a massive presence in my closet. I spent countless afternoons trying and buying suede. Those dressing rooms with the car doors at The Body Shop made it look so good. If ever I questioned God's existence, I knew he was real, and even more so a loving God, when The Body Shop ceased operations. If a cow or pig could be skinned to make it, I had it. After that last "moo" or "oink" it was mine. You name it, I had it...Skirts, shorts, jackets, boots, shoes, purses and even a crop top. Eventually, suede died along with my dreams of being a Texas housewife.

The same goes for relationships as does for cleaning out your closet. You must rearrange and strengthen priorities during troubled times.

Letting go of your bad fashion begins with a brave decision and a burning desire to make changes. One of life’s biggest challenges is the challenge of letting go. Despite how much we want to make changes in our lives and relationships, we do tend to stick with what we know to be safe and comfortable. Keeping things the same, even if they are bad, is safe compared with abandoning what you have and facing the unknown. The unknown is where all of the potential lies.

The fact of the matter is we all have out of date outfits, things that hold us back. If you cannot see yours, you are just not trying. Denying that you have obstacles that stand in the way of improving your relationship will not make your situation better. In fact, refusing to admit to yourself that you are stuck can seriously diminish your possibilities. If you are uncertain about what your barriers are, just ask someone you love and trust to point them out to you.

Be prepared to not like or agree with what you hear. Facing up to the reality of who you are can often be bone crushing. Yes, the truth can hurt, but entering into the pain of reality is healthy even though it's uncomfortable. It has been said that the true measure of a person is often determined by how much truth he can take without having his feelings hurt.

Whether real or vividly imagined, a barrier is a barrier, and those barriers stand in the way of a better relationship. Regardless of whether your barriers are big or small, self imposed or dumped on you by another person, you get to decide whether you want to tolerate them or go beyond them.

They say that you can feng shui your relationship by moving furniture around. Trust me when I say that realizing that your bed has left the wall and moved to the middle of the room during an intense sexual encounter does not fix a relationship. It only reminds you of your great sex life.

We learn the most and grow the most through relationships that are important to us. Our relationships often challenge us and bring us happiness. An intimate relationship can be a roller coaster of emotions. For a relationship to reach its potential, it may have to go to Hell first. While this may mean that to be in an inspiring, nurturing and committed relationship one is forced to look deeply at all the accumulated resistance, hurt, beliefs, etc., it does not mean that one has to get stuck while finding balance in the relationship.

So, instead of going shopping this afternoon and wasting money on an outfit that will end up on the floor amongst the rest of your closet vomit or at a swap party a few years from now, spend the afternoon writing a love letter to the one you love. Feeling creative? Write it with colored markers on a bed sheet.

Sure, we know that perfect outfit will make us feel invincible for the time being, but it is a temporary fix. Focus on an accessory which is timeless: A fabulous relationship with the one you love. Now that will make you feel beautiful.

DUMPster Diving: The Digital Break-Up

Since the beginning of time, breaking up has been hard to do...For most people that is.

The ways to accomplish the dirty deed have been many and varied. Many cowardly souls have decided to find ways to break up without looking the potential dumpee in the eyes, because many people who meet the fate of being dumped often try every way they can to manipulate their way out of being dumped. They cry, act as if it were a crying shame, and then cry some more. Violence has been known to occur and more than one person has been socked, punched or felt the sting of a flying hairbrush. I once had a boyfriend who tried to run us off the road into a ditch. I presume he was going for the whole murder-suicide thing long before the unstable wife of Saturday Night Live's Phil Hartman ever did. These acts usually do not occur if the break up is not in person unless of course you skype it.

Long ago, "Dear John" or "Dear Jane" letters were used as the ultimate break-up tool. I wonder if they composed the letters on special paper to honor the occasion. They could have called it "relationary". Would the intoxicating scent of the person's cologne or perfume make it easier to accept or deny the break-up?

Let's not forget about Berger dumping Carrie via a post-it note in the Sex And The City episode of "The Post-It Always Sticks Twice".

I do not think that even God could have invented a more perfect way to break up with someone, however, dumping by text is also the lamest, most retarded thing anyone can ever do with a cell phone.

I myself, am guilty of stating that "I just don't think this is going to work out" via text. Even celebs like Carrie Underwood have admitted to breaking up via text. What's next? Twitter in 140 characters? People are also breaking up via facebook. Although the Internet has completely changed the communication world, breaking up digitally, and especially on facebook, is just bad behavior. Break-ups are never easy, but broadcasting it online is completely humiliating, not to mention it causes emotional trauma that is hard to get past. Consider the other person's feelings before you start a great conversation piece on the Internet.

Being dumped by text is a bitter blow, but at least you know you are being dumped. Right after high school I was dumped, but had no idea that I was being dumped. BTW, that was the first and last time I was dumped...20 years and going strong. It started out as what I thought would be a normal day in our relationship. We had planned on going golfing with his best friend and his girlfriend. We stopped off at Burger King to have lunch. The day was doomed already. The whole time we were eating he kept playing with his lucky golf ball. I found it to be annoying, but whatever, he was the cutest guy in school. I didn't spend much time with him at the golf course, because the other girlfriend and I were drinking 40's and wrecking the golf cart all afternoon. Next thing I knew, he was leaving and asking his best friend to take me home. I guess I missed the part where the Good Year blimp flew over us with a tag telling him that the other girl that he liked called, because a week later he called me and told me that we were broken up. I haven't been golfing since which is a damn shame because I look super cute in short skirts.

Extra Credit: We all know the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but a castle cover-up concealed for years the existence of an eighth dwarf, and his long-standing relationship with Snow White. He was known as "Dumpee".

Plagiarize & Run: The Love Letter Bandit

A girl got a love letter from her boyfriend.
It read
“Darling, I think of you all the time.
Your naturally wavy blond hair, brown eyes,
prominent cheek bones, scar on your cheek,
slim build, five feet two inches height, and
a hundred and ten pounds frame.” Her roommate told her that was an unusually worded love letter and asked her what he did for a living. She said, “Oh! He has a great job. He writes
reports of missing persons for the police.”

People often wonder what is going on in my head. Personally, I think this is a dangerous activity and those whose curiousity has been peaked should proceed with caution. Periodically, I have some sort of relationship drama and it seems like I am always the one to try and smooth things over which is always completely exhausting. This is usually accomplished through my creative writing skills. I believe it was that scratch n' sniff certificate presented to me in the 3rd grade commending my excellent writing skills that inspired me. So, the other day somebody asked me to read something that I wrote. I was short on time so I decided to print it out for them, thinking that they would just read it in front of me and then I could recycle it, but NO! They took off with it like a dog in heat with a cheap stuffed animal won at the fair via a game of duck hunt. They knew they had knowledge in their possession. I wondered what on earth they planned on doing with it and then it hit me. They were going to use it to mislead some naive girl into believing that they were sensitive and knew how to put their thoughts and feelings in writing. Right...Written by a man? The moral of the story is: Ladies, if you receive an awesome love letter from your man, it is not random or planned. I wrote that manifesto! Ask any of my ex-boyfriends. Any thoughts that I put into writing practically turn into a graduate thesis.

Cupcake Wrecks & Adventures

One treacherous morning I woke up and discovered that I was suffering from a variety of innovation illnesses. I attribute this to the unhealthy corporate environment that I work in. I knew that if I left this unchecked, that it could be fatal. There was a skinny bitch inside of me dying to get out and I asked myself what to do. The answer finally came to me. Feed her a cupcake! That 25 watt dim bulb in my head started to flicker. At that moment I decided to pursue cake decorating. Who did I think I was channeling? The Ace of Cakes?! Right. I dreamt that this would be my winning lottery ticket, because playing the lottery has worked out so well for me in the past. So, I embarked on 4 weeks of a beginning cake decorating class. It was a tragic mess from day one. I constantly found myself smothered, covered and scattered in sugary, buttercream icing. The worst part was being upstaged by set of elementary school aged twins. Each class, I envisioned the scary twin girls from "The Shining". I was so relieved when the class was over. It was like an experiment in fattening terror and I was ready to be set free and drop a dress size. The coup de grace occurred when I volunteered to make my sister cupcakes for her birthday. Ever heard the term "hot mess"? Certainly you have if you have ever indulged in being any form of a fag hag. I made the cupcakes with baking mix from Trader Joe's. DISCLAIMER: I love Trader Joe's, however, it is not good for everything. These cupcakes turned out to be biscuits with icing. I knew that if I let them harden, they could possibly make good dog treats for Halloween, if that. The morning after my sister's birthday, she facebooked me and told me that she ate the cupcakes for breakfast and that they were good enough to eat. Well, in the movie "Alive", circa 1993, they thought humans were good enough to eat. On a positive note, my apartment smelled of cakes for a month which helped overpower the odor of the cat litter that I forgot to change. Oops. Sorry Izabella.

Facebook's Power To Sour Relationships

At exactly 2:05 pm on Friday, July 17, 2009, my relationship with the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with was in danger and it happened right before everyone's eyes on facebook and nobody did anything to save it. I was baited by not one, but two unknowns and I was fooled hook, line and sinker. I felt as though I was smoldering in a fiery trainwreck and nobody was there to help me. Where was my knight in shining armor? I felt betrayed, exposed, and unprotected. Sure, I should have never given in to such unruly gossip, but if "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts we would all have a Merry Christmas.

Beware: Skulls, Crossbones & All:
The facebook wall is the worst weapon of all. Plain and simple. People write some really reckless shit that you would rather not have the world see. Aside from that, there are some really jealous people out there.

Important Rule:
DO NOT POST negative things about your significant other. In the heat of the moment, avoid the temptation to blast your significant other or say something embarrassing about them through your status or wall postings.

Bottom Line:
The key to saving a relationship is to get off facebook. That shit ruins lives.

A Woman Is Wise And Strong Who Recognizes She Has A Problem And Seeks Out A Solution Rather Than See The Problem And Stick Her Head In The Sand

I believe that every relationship rests on three legs: accepting, supporting and challenging. That's really it, isn't it? You want your relationships to be grounded on accepting each other as you are. On supporting each other through the inevitable ups and downs. On challenging each other to become more, to grow, to flourish. You have to figure out which one of these is the more difficult one for you, and how are you going to practice it.