Reason #42 Why I Got Married

Neck zits.

Or really, any zit in a spot that I can't reach. But today's inspiration comes from a horrific zit I have on my neck.

It hurts! I can see it, I can touch it, but any time I try to squeeze it (you know, to remove it) the pain I feel makes me stop and weep like an infant. And then it just grows bigger, redder, and angrier. The huge whitehead in the middle starts mocking me. It has become almost comical--like an over-exaggerated zit you'd see on a TV or movie character. You know the kind. And all I want to do is pop it.

This is where I miss my husband. Because he would pop it for me. It would hurt, and I would cry, but then it would be gone. Because, yes, my husband pops my zits. And I return the favor. We're humans....WE'RE PRIMATES! This is what we're hard-wired to do. And honestly, there are few things on this earth as satisfying as popping something off of your own body, or the body of your significant other.

So now I will clean my house with my neck throbbing and be silently judged by you all reading this who want to pretend you have never popped a zit, and that you don't know just how good it feels sometimes. Good day.

Twenty percent down...

Today, I miss him. Don't get me wrong, I've missed him since he left but today I REALLY miss him. I feel his absence so much today, more than other days and possibly less than others. But today, I miss him.

I need him here, next to me, holding me, making me laugh. I need him to hug me and tell me everything's going to be okay. That I'm doing a good job. That he misses me as much as I miss him. (Which, if he were here there wouldn't be any missing but that's just semantics.)

I miss his arms. I miss being held, and touched, and grabbed. I miss the unexpected butt-smack. I miss holding his and and feeling his thumb rub mine. I miss pre-sleep snuggles, three kisses, then rolling over to our respective sides (for we are NOT cuddly sleepers). I miss the stubble. I miss when the smile reaches his eyes and for a brief moment I swear they twinkle. I miss him.

I miss him. Today, most of all.


...Eighty percent left.

In which I vent way too hard about Candy Crush

Dear Candy Crush Level 133, and your sidekick, Creepy Sexy-Time Voice Guy,


Stop. Just stop. That move was neither sweet nor divine. If I hear you say, "Tasty!" one more time without me beating this level I will....Oh, who am I kidding. I'll keep playing. I'll hate myself, but I'll keep playing.

I understand that I have to get all Daft Punk on this level, but it's not happening. Maybe I need Pharrell near me to help me get some. Will he help me get two sprinkle candies right next to each other when I have nothing but a few jellies left? Because if so, I'd better get my stalking boots on and stay up all night 'til the sun.

I really do hate you, but I can't stay away. You're the stereotypical "bad boy" I read about in all those angsty novels growing up. But guess what? You're not the only one with a pack of smokes rolled up in your sleeve, revving all through town like Cool Rider. I can smoke more than you! I can ride better than you! (Well, okay, that's kind of an exaggeration. I do not know how to drive a motorcycle, but I can ride bitch like nobody's business!) I bet I can pound a jukebox back to life better than your wannabe-Fonzie ass; my anger towards you will give me Hulk-like strength and I would probably beat the hell out of the jukebox but that's neither here nor there. Sure, Patsy Cline's Crazy LP would probably skip at the lyric, "Crazy, for feeling this way....for feeling this way....for feeling this way..." and the irony would not be lost on me. I DO NOT GET LOST ON IRONY! I get lost on post. I get lost in town. But Irony? I'm motherfuckin' Lewis and Clark when it comes to Irony.

So, please, stop sucking the life out of me. Stop making me hate myself over you. Stop trying to sexy-time whisper words of encouragement as I clear four sets of three matching candies.

Who has two thumbs and is showing you no love?

This girl!

Scenes From an Airport--The Thinker (2001)

This blog will be full of back and forth...stuff I write now, and stuff I've written previously. This is something I wrote back in April 2001. I'm trying to consolidate.


Scenes From an Airport-The Thinker
 2001


It's when...

You're sitting in an airport halfway between where you have to go and where you really would rather be. The musak at Gate C27 is awful but you recognize every song and you tap your foot, singing the words to yourself, thinking, "Y'know, that Billy Joel/Tom Jones/Neil Diamond etc. really knew what he was talking about." Then you smile-a smile intended for the one who is where you would rather be and not halfway between or where you have to go. Quickly the smile turns into a sigh as they call your flight.

It's when...

Your arms ache because they're empty. And it's only been four hours, 23 minutes, five seconds-six-seven...

It's when...

You actually draft a letter to Crayola saying: "Hey, there's this incredible color green that's been hiding in my friends eyes and you really should look into to because it'd be the best crayon color ever." In hopes that they actually would make it so you can carry the crayon and whenever you ached to look into those eyes, you could pull it out and color whatever was in front of you.
Which would be quite often.
You'd go through a lot of crayons.
A lot.

It's when...

You fold yourself into seat/flotation device 16-F and hug a small monkey to you because right now it's all you've got and you wish you had thought to put some cologne on the monkey, not because it smells, but because it doesn't. Then the realization that you are having a conversation about a monkey wearing cologne with yourself is enough to make you take out your headphones and try not to think. A familiar song fills your ears and singing the words to yourself you think, "Hey, those Backstreet Boys know what they're talking about."

That's when you know you're in trouble.

Tips for posting Craigslist personals

1. Do not post a picture of your penis if you penis is funny looking.
     1a. All penises are funny looking.

2. If you want to post your face, do not post your penis along with it.
     2a. Especially if you are in any sort of military uniform.
     2b. Near a military post. (I am genuinely surprised that I didn't see any uniform posts showing the person's name. It's like the lesson was so close to being learned... so close!

3. Nobody wants to see a pic of your penis in a condom. Or outside of a condom. Or in your hand. Seriously, NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOUR PENIS!

4. If you insist on posting a pic of your penis, please consider the angle.

5. Use proper English. "Tryna" is not a word in any language. On any planet. Ever.Slang be damned.

6. If you are a bigger girl, cropping a picture at an awkward angle is not going to hide your size. It's only going to make you look bigger. There are ways to take a selfie to hide your extra chins. I know, I use the technique all the time.

7. If you're looking for someone specific, BE SPECIFIC. "I saw you in the parking lot loading groceries in your car. You drove a black car." OH! Yeah, that person....with the head....I know who that is. *headslam*

8. If you are writing a message to someone you see all the time and occasionally talk to, DON'T. Grow a pair and ask that person out face to face. "I'm shy..." STOP BEING A BITCH! If you already talk with this person and have some sort of rapport then take the next step. I was a sophomore in high school when I asked my friend to go out with me. (He said no, which I had expected but the fact is that I did it. I was 15!)

9. If your girlfriend is out of town for the night and you want to get laid 'No strings attached" go to a bar like a normal dirtbag.

10. If the title of your post is, "I'm not a stalker," just stop. You are totally a stalker. Go find a 12-step program.

11. If somebody on line at the store/post office/doctor's office makes eyes at you, that doesn't mean that person wants to sleep with you. They were probably looking at you so they could give a detailed description to the sketch artist.

12. "I'm married and want to stay that way." THEN WHY ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO FUCK ON THE SIDE? That's NOT how marriage works.

13. Looking for two guys to bang you in front of your husband is not a healthy way to get even for your husband cheating on him. Or maybe it is. In Bizzaro World.

14. A lot is two words. Same with a little.

15. If you are a serious massage therapist, don't advertise your practice on CL Missed Connections. Especially when you say you only massage women. Yup, seems legit. Wait, you want me to meet you in that van parked down by the river? The one that says "Free candy with every massage?" I'm totes there.

16. If you have to state in your ad that you're "the shit," you are not. Shit, perhaps, but not THE SHIT.

17. If you are a man do not state you can provide oral pleasure "better than a lesbian." I am not a lesbian, nor have I ever been with one, but from all the porn I've read/seen I'm pretty sure your claims are false.

18. "Where the Ladie$ at?" Staying the hell away from you.