There Are Still Bloodstains In The Carpet

Food For Thought 2005

When I met my husband he was covered in blood and delirious, and couldn't remember my name.

That's how I like to explain how Roberto and I met. I conveniently leave out the details that don't make my husband sound crazy. But since you guys are friends, I guess I'll tell you. 

I was desperate for friends. I was in the middle of a very mean divorce and had moved to a brand new city. I only knew my roommates and hadn't found a job yet. So when my roommate said she was working on a film this weekend and they needed help, I jumped at the opportunity. 

It was a competition. You had to make a horror film in 48 hours. You were given a prop and a line of dialogue you had to work in somewhere. My roommate showed me the film they had done the last year. It was about a girl who got raped and then came back to haunt and kill her rapists. Little did I know I was watching the house I call home now. There are still "blood stains" in the carpet. Corn syrup and dye is hard to get out. I was honestly a little appalled. Who the hell decides to write a rape into their script? I asked my roommate. "What the fuck kind of people are you working for?" A credit to my husband as a director, the scene was way too real for my tastes. 

I didn't find out until later that they got assigned the genre. They had no chose but to do a rape revenge. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they weren't so weird?  This time their genre was "cannibalism", their prop pancakes and their line of dialogue "It tastes like chicken." I was pretty sure there wasn't going to be any girls assaulted,  maybe just eaten. They got their pancakes from a restaurant down the street, I remember their sign said "Pancakes, cheaper then gas."

My job was to run tapes from the ice cream store to my roommate for editing.  When I first saw him, he was standing in the middle of the store pointing and ordering people to the back. He was a big guy who looked like he could break me in half just to hug me. His arms were covered in tattoos and "blood."  I'm not going to say it was love at first sight, but part of me knew we would be friends. It didn't hurt that I thought he was kind of hot. He later told me that he thought I was cute, but couldn't remember my name. He asked me like twenty times if I wanted ice cream, even though I said no thanks every time. He claims it was because I made him nervous. I'm sure it had something to do with not sleeping for the past two days.

I didn't get to talk to him much that night, but our paths crossed a few more times until he finally asked me out on a real date.  Where we spent the time ignoring every one else and only talking to each other. After that we were inseparable. And a little while later I was pregnant. We don't waste time around here.

And his film won the Audience favorite award.  Because I am good luck, obviously. 

How did you meet your significant other? Was it love at first sight?

Not Sure If I'm Ready-PYHO

I always thought that I was one kind of person. That I had moral ground and certain rules you do not break. I didn't understand people who cheated. 

"If you wanted to be with somebody else just break up with the person your with."

"You can't cheat on someone you love. "

I even told Robert.  "If you cheat on me, we're over. No second chances"

I use to think I was one way. And I looked on other people with disdain. It turns out that I'm not who I thought I was. I am a weak, easily manipulated person. Two years ago I cheated on my husband. 

He and I separated. I ended up with someone emotionally abusive and who cheated on me. I know! Shocker! The details are gruesome and pathetic. But this post isn't about that. It's about the aftermath.

My husband forgave me and my first year back was full of tears and confessions. I faced every question and insecurity my husband had. I deserved any anger that he had for me. I hated myself for what I had done. I still hate myself. And that's the problem. 

It's starting to affect our marriage. I'm not the same girl he knew. I'm not the same girl I knew. I use to have a very "Fuck you if you don't like me attitude."  Now I have a "I can totally understand why you don't like me, because I'm awful." attitude.  My husband begs me to move on and forgive myself. He has pointed out numerous times that he has forgiven me and moved on, he doesn't hate me or think I'm awful.  And really his opinion is all that matters. 

It's hard for me to reconcile who I thought I was and who I turned out to be. A cheater. We have mostly moved on. I haven't really, not in my head. When we have an argument, I still feel like, maybe I deserve his anger.  All the insults and past hurts rise up and I don't have the energy to argue with them. I am not good enough and I am a fucking idiot tends to be my mantra. I try to tell my head to shut up, but it's hard when I believe it. 

I still judge people who cheat. I still don't understand why people do it. I know that some people who read this will judge me. I get it, because I judge me. Our marriage is actually better then it was before I cheated, we communicate better and don't take each other for granted. Cheating doesn't go away though. No matter how much time lapses, that betrayal will still be a part of us.Hopefully we can remember it as a lesson. 

I don't really think I should forgive myself. I did something terrible, to my husband and my children. I don't really deserve forgiveness. But, maybe I can learn to live with it and move on?  But I don't think I will ever forgive myself. 

Have you experienced cheating in your relationships? How did you deal with?

Field Trips-RemembeRED

I was misunderstood in high school. Obviously. 

My favorite high school field trip was when I would go panhandling in Austin. I shit you not. I rode all the way up to Austin in a bus, then sat on the Drag and panhandled. In my defense, it was educational. 

I was in theatre and speech in high school. That's right, I was that kid. The one who would  run through the halls singing show tunes. I even went to college on a drama scholarship.

The University of Texas held a huge workshop every year, so that all the Texas theatre and speech geeks could come together in one big geeky, awkward, enunciating ball of fun! I bet all the hipsters on campus loved it. (What was the equivalent of a hipster in the 90's? )  I especially loved it because Austin was my home. Technically I grew up in a  tiny coastal Texas town. But I had family in Austin and every time I visited I could hear it's siren call. It was where I wanted to be. Neh, where I was supposed to be.

In case you have never been here, Austin is "weird." It's a small liberal bubble in a giant red state. There's people with pink hair, dogs with mohawks, hippies selling bongs on the corner, everything organic and protests at the governor's mansion. I thought it was amazing and my all time favorite spot was the drag. It's a street that runs adjacent to the university and use to have all these quirky independent shops. Like a thrift store called Gawd Awfuls. Really the very best people watching in town, full of hipsters, students and a lot of transients. 

So the first chance I got, my best friend, Doug and I ditched our classmates. After wandering around in the shops, trying on wigs and probably annoying the shit out of the employees, I got a brilliant idea. I was a stupid child and had somehow romanticized all the transients (i.e homeless people who travel) I thought it would be cool to go wherever I wanted and have piercings and dreads. I glossed over the smelly and hungry parts. My brilliant idea was to blend in, I convinced Doug to sit down and beg for money. Yeah that's what I thought was a good time. We didn't last long and didn't make any money. I blame the fact that Doug was the kind of kid who pressed his jeans and tucked his shirt in. No one bought us as real. Also it was really boring! Later I gave my leftover lunch to actual homeless people and felt pretty damn good about myself. There's probably a whole post here about growing up white and privileged, but let's chalk it up to being an idiot for right now.

I now live in Austin and the drag is not as fun. More gaps and girls in sweatpants that say "juicy" on the butt. (I hate those things, butts should not be juicy!) I also  realized that the entire city is not that "weird."  It's like the aging hippies who are driving their Lexus station but still want to be thought of as cool because they smoke weed occasionally and wear birkenstocks.  I hate to break it to you, but you are the "man" now.  Austin puts on a veneer of weird, but it's mostyl run and inhabited by the conservative wealthy.

Don't get me wrong, I love living here but it's definitely not as magical as I thought it was in high school. But what is?

What kind of field trips did you take in high school?

An Update On My Niece and Nephew

Remember how we had to make an awful decision about our niece and nephews? Well, their mom made the decision for us. We told her we were going to sue for custody and she came the next week with boxes for the kids to start packing up.

The idea was for her to come and get them with a u-haul the Friday after school let out. We had plans to take them out to eat and make a big deal of how much fun they would have with their mom. And to make sure they knew how much we would miss them.

Of course their mother could give a shit about our plans. She called on their last day at school saying she was already in town with the u-haul. What? Like she didn't know she was going to do that before she got there. I was completely heart broken, I was worried that Robert wouldn't even get home in time to say good-bye. Their mom came in and started packing, ignoring me and my children because we're evil for trying to get her to step up and be a parent, or just give up custody. How dare we?

I lamented my frustration to Grandpa, he seemed confused. He had a very "The sooner, the better" and "Good riddance" attitude. I got angry at him, telling him "well, you don't care anyway." and calling Robert to vent. I know he was frustrated and tired. But he didn't seem to get that we may not be seeing them again. It's not like their mom is not going to bring them to visit. I was disappointed and angry.

We got to spend an hour with them before they left. I cried and assured them that if they needed anything they could call anytime.

So far they have talked to Grandpa a few times and are doing great. The evil teenager has a father figure now that he desperately needed. Christopher was mostly excited that he got a Wii. They are all happy with their new house and looking forward to new schools. I hope it stays that way.

And Grandpa's attitude? He now regrets it and misses them. He's glad to not be taking care of them, but he wishes he hadn't been so flippant about them leaving.  Not much he can do now though.

What's the hardest decision that you had to make? Did it turn out okay, or not?

Food For Thought-My Face Hurts Edition

I didn't have a great week. I was short and sharp with the girls, I didn't clean, or work out or eat well.  Also I have a terrible tooth ache. But, Saturday was fantastic because I got a chance to hang out with the girls without being grumpy, and we made pizzas. I think Pea is the very best pizza maker ever. We have been kicking ass on not going out to eat. That little old savings account was getting kind of sad looking. We got the girls juice boxes, and I have decided that they need to make adult versions. Juice tastes better out of  a box, but it needs to be bigger! I hope everyone's week was better then mine. Here's a few links to peruse on your (hopefully) lazy Sunday.

This is probably how my husband will feel when my daughter's start talking about boys. 

I want this zombie t-shirt.

Life scripts for lovers from the always amazing Ms. Franzen

I have decided to respond this way any time someone asks me if I've lost weight.

Best finger people (undead?) ever!

Gabby always brings the words of wisdom, right when I need them.

Another amazing writer telling their painful story, this time about rape. 

You guys hungry yet?

How was your week?

What Was That Pirate Movie Rated?

It was rated rrrrrrr

I had the worst doctor's appointment ever last week. It was an eye appointment for Bliss, our pediatrician was concerned she might have a lazy eye. I was sick to my stomach thinking of her having surgery, or giant coke bottle glasses for the rest of her life. I know that's not the worst thing, but I'd like to give her a fighting chance in school. Kids are mean.

To test if she had one, they had us put a snazzy eye patch on her eye, two hours prior to the visit. The theory is that if it's lazy when it has nothing to focus on it will laze over to the side. So when the doctor takes it off, he can catch it being lazy. Like my children.

I imagined Bliss clawing at the patch and wailing about it for two hours. But as usual she barely even noticed or cared. Just me freaking out without cause, as usual. We get to the office and it's pretty full. I immediately notice that they are all chit chatting. I've never just had a conversation in our doctor's office. They're in a much nicer part of town and I tend to feel schlubby and invisible. Usually I try and remind myself that it's my own insecurities, and has nothing to do with anything else. But I tried to join in the conversation and got rebuffed for my troubles. So I went back to being invisible and making sure my kids shared the ancient blocks in the toy chest. I was already freaking out about Bliss's eye, this only brought my mood lower.

Bliss chose this moment to pee all over me. Of course. I didn't have any extra clothes for her, much less for me. So I lugged her into the bathroom, telling Pea and Peanut to stay put. I changed her diaper and hoped that we didn't smell to strongly of pee.  This obviously did wonders for my self esteem and mood.

Last but not least once I herded everyone into the exam room and in my best "I Mean Business Mommy Voice" I told them not to move their butts from the bench. Peanut actually listened and even tried to keep Pea on the bench. But I guess the lure of a all the instruments and shiny things was just too much for Pea. I asked her a million times to sit down and stop asking questions. I even told her through clenched teeth, classic angry mom style. Finally the nurse had to get her to sit down. Another person had to parent my child, and what's worse, Pea actually listened to her the first time. I was mortified. I can't control my children and I smell like pee. No wonder no one wants to talk to me.

On the bright side, Bliss does not have a lazy eye. She has a little mild one that she will grow out of. I breathed a sigh of relief, and decided that this was not the worst appointment, after all.

Is it easy for you to make friends with other mommies?

My Month As A Giant Greaseball

I love my hair. I love playing with it and trying new styles (Thank you YouTube) I've also dyed it most every color out there. If I was allowed to at my job, my hair would be bright pink, or green. Right now my goal is to grow it out. I've never had really long hair. The goal is my waist. In the past I've always gotten bored and cut it, but I am totally committed. 

In the interest of hair health I discovered a movement of no shampoo advocates. Have you ever read the ingredients on your shampoo? There's a lot of weird ass shit in there. Which may or may not be killing you slowly, one sud at a time. That's up for some debate. 

I'm already the kind of person who will go a few days without washing my hair. Also I work nights so not very many people see me.  So I figured, what the hell?

 I had to share this incredibly sexy picture of the first week without shampoo.

The plan:

Switch to baking soda for a week. 

Then go six weeks without washing or using any product in my hair.

Switch to baking soda permanently.

Bask in all my superior hippy glory.

 The last week. Again with the sexy.

How It Actually Went Down:

It was kind of amazing how bright the baking soda made my hair, people asked me if I had dyed it.

Six weeks of itchiness, ponytails and pinning my bangs back. Hit epic greasiness on week 2, and then it tapered off a little. My hair felt courser and heavier (and greasy.)

Used baking soda for about two weeks, results were less amazing. Started using real shampoo again. 

Bask in clean hair, because I am the worst hippy ever.

Things I learned:

It apparently works best for people with curly hair. Possibly because they don't end up with lank, greasy hair clumping around their face

Before when I thought everyone was staring at me because I hadn't washed my hair in two days? That was nothing. Now I know, people don't notice or care. 

My scalp gets very very itchy.

I will maybe do the baking soda thing once in a while, but for the most part I will stick with my evil corporate shampoo and my considerably less evil coconut oil.  It's a happy medium.

Have you guys ever tried this?

We Have Lift Off

I am being a little unfair to Miss Bliss. She's actually been standing for over a month and for the past three weeks she's been walking. She stomps purposefully around the house, arms akimbo for balance, head and neck scrunched forward in concentration. She's a little bow legged, her knees and feet not aligned just yet for running. She tries though. Somehow she will slip out of the living room and go marching off to Grandpa's room. She's tired of watching Law and Order, and besides Grandpa has candy. When she hears me coming behind her she attempts to speed up, and sometimes she overbalances, but it's happening less and less. 

You know how all parents say they can't wait until their kid does (blank) and then moan to high heavens when they do. I'm at that stage. I can't wait to be chasing her around, pretending to be too slow while she giggles so hard she tumbles over. But then I am not looking forward to chasing her down to take the marker back, or the cat food our of her mouth. 

It's also bittersweet because she is a toddler now.  Literally, she toddles. She will most likely be my last baby. And I watch her face fill in and her body lengthen and slim down I am excited that she is growing and meeting milestones. But I already miss her fat little baby face staring up at me while I hold her in my arms. 

Such is the pain and joy of being a mother. Luckily the joy can outweigh the pain if you let it. Next we are working on full blown words that Mommy and Daddy don't have to translate for everyone. Then,  Harvard!

What are you looking forward to? Or what are you dreading?

The Best Daddy In the Whole World (And Fart Jokes)

My husband is amazing in so many ways. He is the very best Dad a little girl could have. That three little girls could have. He plays with them, while I watch from a safe distance on the couch. He hugs and kisses them, he reads to them and tucks them in. He taught them how to play Street Fighter and how to burp. Because of him they have the worst sense of humor ever. We will all be in hysterics over someone farting in the car. We are very mature. 

He tells them he loves them, that they are beautiful, smart and funny. Even when they are butchering a knock knock joke. 

"Knock, knock?"

"Who's there?"

"Farts!"

"Farts who?"

"I farted on your face!"

Commence hysterical laughter from the back seat. 

He wants them to know that they never have to depend on someone else. He teaches them life skills so they can do it on their own. He wants them to know that sex does not equal love, and that teenage boys lie. He wants them to be cautious but still excited about the world. He sets an example of how a marriage and love are supposed to be. He shows them how a man is supposed to treat their loved ones. (or a woman if that ends up being their bag) He wants them to know that, while they don't have to since he has prepared them for the real world, they can always depend on their Daddy.

He also does the hard stuff. He teaches them that their are consequences. Because that's part of preparing them for the big world too. 

And for me, he gives me a break. He listens to me vent. He doesn't judge me when I break down and yell at them, or just want them to play in their room so I can have 5 minutes of alone time. He loves me full stop and accepts me flaws and all.

In short he is the best Daddy in the whole wide world.

What are you doing for Father's Day? (P.S. Single mom's should also get Father's Day wishes.Just saying.)

Icing On The Cupcake-A Vintage Flavor

We pretty much all got started blogging, by reading blogs first. I read a lot of blogs, but I like to pick one that I devour. I read every single post and comment on stuff that they wrote years ago. It's kind of like stalking. So to apologize for being a creepster, I  feature them here with the Icing on the Cupcake. 

This is Mary Delux of "Welcome to DeluxeVille."   First off you have to like her because she's super hot and knows how to dress. Her blog is full of amazing vintage fashion. She recently got married and her husband is also pretty stylish.

Her love and knowledge of everything vintage also extends to her beautiful house, which by the way she completely remodeled herself. And now she is working on making her new home all her own. It inspires me that she isn't waiting around for contractors or installers. She just rolls up her wide legged dungarees and starts pulling up the floor. I am so ready to start ripping up carpet at my house.

You can't get anymore vintage then actual love letters from her Grandma and Grandpa before they got married. Mary shares them, along with pictures and other keepsakes. You can start here and find the rest on her sidebar. It's interesting to hear about life in the 40's from someone who was living it at the time.

But my favorite part of Mary's site is her Bus Stop analogy. In a nutshell, woman are bus riders and men are the bus. You wait at your bus stop and find the bus and bus route that's right for you.

"A bus stop goddess always has correct change, knows the route she's taking, and isn't afraid to ding the bell when she wants to get off the bus. There are many reasons as to why one might want to ding the bell... the bus took an unexpected detour, the bus stopped to pick up another rider, or perhaps the bus just got a flat tire and you didn't want to have to be the one to change it. What ever the reason, the bus stop goddess isn't afraid to get off the bus even if the bus is in the middle of nowhere. She knows it's better to walk along by herself for awhile to the next bus stop then to put up with a bus going in the wrong direction."

That is pure wisdom right there. She has tips on how to pick a good bus and know when to ding the bell to get off.  My favorite tip is to never get on the bus if their is another rider already on it. I have totally ridden that route and it is a bumpy ride believe me.

I have found my perfect bus and route, sometimes we have to change course but we do it together. And my bus is a little dusty and has a few dings, but so do I. It's probably why we ride so well together. We've taken on three more passengers and I think we have reached our limit, but who knows what's waiting for us? I got distracted once by a shiny new bus, but when I got inside I saw that it was windowless and had so many bus stop (not)goddesses, that I couldn't even sit down. Luckily my bus came back around and picked me up and we've been figuring out the route ever since.

Go check out Mary and leave her a congratulations for finding her bus for life. 

Have you guys found your bus and it's route. Or are you still hanging at the bus stop?

I Tried, I Really Did.-PYHO

I wanted this. There was no question that I would breast feed. I know it's best for the mom and the baby. And it's cheaper, formula is expensive. I was excited about it, I was even going to do it in public and dare someone to tell me I couldn't. I am confrontational sometimes, sue me. 

Since Sweet Pea was preemie she was being fed through a little tube at first so I couldn't breastfeed. I pumped. Lord did I pump. Every four hours. I dreaded the little yellow sucking beast. It didn't work. I never got more then a couple of ounces. I would will more to come out, the sound of the pump and the one or two drops spurting out would become mesmerizing.  When I did get to feed her, she didn't latch. They gave me the little plastic sombrero to go over my nipple, but that didn't do much either. We had to supplement with formula. After a while it was more like we were supplementing with breast milk and feeding her formula. 

The failure could be chalked up to stress, I had a preemie in the hospital and it was my first kid. I was terrified. I kind of thought once I had her I would just magically know how to do things, like swaddle and make bottles. Spoiler alert, you don't. Or the problem could have been not being able to feed her immediately. Our doctors and lactation consultants gave me the same advice and none of it worked. I gave up. And then felt guilty for giving up. Maybe I really didn't try hard enough.

So with Bliss I was even more determined. This was going to happen! We would bond and I would be able to yell at rude people when I feed her in public. It would be great. I had plans damn it. But again my boobs refused to do their job. Was their something wrong with me? They gave me another sombrero and I drank more of the tea and I massaged my boobs into her mouth. Everything tried again, everything failed again. I was heartbroken. What was wrong with me? I had heard horror stories of when you didn't pump or feed you would be in terrible pain. Nope. Not me. It just dried up I guess. I read later that having diabetes can affect your production of milk. Why didn't any of my 82 different doctors (high risk pregnancy) tell me that? It could be that, or stress or that she spent some time in the NNICU as well. Who knows? 

I try not to beat myself up about it. They won't be as smart, our bond isn't as strong, I should have tried harder, blah blah blah. It's hard when there is a lot of propaganda saying that if you bottle fed your baby that you are evil and a horrible selfish mother. You should be doing yoga, pureeing organic veggies and breast feeding at the same time. Obviously. It brings up all my doubts again and has me stewing in mother guilt. 

I know that the breast is best. But before you judge someone popping a bottle in their babies mouth, stop and assume that they tried and it didn't work. 98% of moms have their babies best interest in minds. So try not to add to the yammering. While we're at it, lets not judge the WAHM's or the SAHM's or WOOTH(work out of the home?)  Or the kids with dirt on their faces and mismatched socks. Cause those are mine, and I will start a fight with you in a public place.

Did you breastfeed? And if you didn't, why not?

Affection RemembeRED

Her tiny fists curled around my hands. I watched her through the plastic. I watched to make sure her chest rose and fell without a pause. Her eyes filled her face as she stared back. The beanie she wore was made out of scrap of cloth tied at the top. It literally hurt my heart to watch her. She would kick her heart monitor off and the machines would go wild, flashing and beeping. The first couple of times I lost my breathe. But after a while you get use to the sounds. Monitors beeping, a respirator collapsing and hissing, fussing babies, murmuring mothers and the squeak of the nurses shoes were the soundtrack to my day. 

I didn't get to hold her until two days after she was born. I was still on bed rest and she wasn't allowed out of the NNICU  She was so tiny. She reminded me of ET, she was skinny and long but had this little pot belly.  I would hold her and marvel. Sometimes I would sing to her, soft and croaky, embarrassed for someone to hear me.  "Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face?" 

 When I wasn't at the NNICU, I ached for her. I felt like I had a tenuous grip on my sanity. I had only the thinnest string tethering me to reality.  I knew I would just shake apart any minute. Acting normal and not scared was extremely difficult. I can't remember why I didn't turn to Robert for comfort. Probably some bullshit "being strong" reasoning. If you can't break down to your husband, who can you break down to?

She got out after a month, just above four lbs. I would still watch her chest rise and fall, only this time in the bassinet. I put my hand on her chest to feel it rise, but still trying not to wake her up. My favorite was when she would fall asleep on my chest and I couldn't move. I loved her sweet baby smell that faded as she grew.  

I still check to make sure she's breathing, five years later. She's also still skinny and fits perfectly in my lap or nuzzled up next to me in bed. There was a time where I couldn't sleep without her spooned up against me.  I've never been a very affectionate person, I am not a "hugger". But she has taught me how amazing it is to hold someone and love them so hard it hurts.

Are you a hugger? Or do you freak out when people touch you?

Rocking the Bump

Check out my hobbit feet.

At eight months with Bliss

I hate anything I am writing right now, so go link up with Shell at Things I Can't Say to show off your baby bump. And I'm out.

Food For Thought

Our date night was fantastic. Saw amazing bands and had tasty late night food. Watched Clueless and remember how awesome Alicia Silverstone was. Is? Ate like Ca-rap today. Lots of processed food, sweets and some fried chicken thrown in for good measure. So I am exercising, then going to go swimming. Maybe. We'll see. I hope everyone else is having a great weekend. 

This little letter made me smile. It must have been hard for the spoon to write.

Going to start using these names to diffuse a fight.

How to throw a rave in your brain. I am all about this list!

I want to tape this to my girls mirrors. 

What a great view of being pretty, it's hard for everybody out there.

I love the word devour.

Stuck with a bitch face? I can totally relate.

I want these earrings.

This made me laugh.

Post your favorite links here so I can go check them out! I'd love to read what you are writing, you guys.

Eccentric Glamour-Book review

I use to have style. I promise. I had shoes that went only with one outfit and I had dresses, so many dresses. I use to. Now I have jeans (even some mom jeans. I'm sorry!) and t-shirts. No, I have shirts that I feel fat in, so I steal my husbands shirts. My husband has lots of t-shirts, that I wear. I also work at a night job, where I potentially might have to chase, or restraint a child. And during the day, I am at home, or out with the kids. I get dressed, fix my hair and even put on make up every morning. I know that if I wear my pj's all day I will feel like crap all day. I haven't given up totally, but I have given up some. 

I read a lot of style blogs. I think the amazing thing about them is how inspiring they are. I never thought to pair that, with that! And she looks fantastic! Maybe I will too! They have given me courage and lately I've been thinking of a style overhaul. In comes Simon Doonan. You guys probably know his as the paisley wearing, British talking head on all the VH1 shows. In his book Eccentric Glamour he explains how to "create an insanely more fabulous you." Who could use more fabulousness in their life? I have enough insanity already to be honest.  His basic premise is to be unapologetic about what you wear, and wear what you want when you want. Don't follow trends, wear what makes you happy. He says I should throw out my jeans, yeah right buddy. But otherwise I like a lot of what he says. 

He breaks style down into three archetypes.

The Socialite. A woman who needs to be dressed to the nines. Jacki O, Gwyneth Paltrow. 

The Gypsy. Flowing scarfs, long dress. Stevie Nicks, Joss Stone. (he recommends this for heavier woman due to all the flowy fabric. Fuck that I say.)

The Existentialist  a little punk, black skinny pants with a leather jacket. Kate Moss, Tilda Swinton. 

The existentialist was the one that captured my attention. Maybe a mom version of it? I am digging an Annie Hall kind of look, sans hats. I look stupid in hats. I've been googling. "How to Dress Up Jeans and T-shirt." Basically I need a blazer in my life. Which would be great, expect for the 104 degree weather we're having. I'm at a loss. Doonan's book was inspiring and I highly recommend it if you are in style rut.

Do you guys have any suggestions for dressing up my jeans and t-shirt uniform?

Getting Bumped Into By Sweaty Shirtless Gentleman

This weekend for date night, we went to a punk show. I feel like an incredible poser saying "punk show." But believe it or not in my formative years it was all I listened to. Introduced to it by my first boyfriend, who it turns out was emotionally abusive, and explains a lot about my relationship history. It took me a really long time to realize that he was an asshole, not me. From his first "You'd be so much prettier if you lost weight" to his last "If you loved me you'd have sex with me." I let it all sink in and still struggle with my self esteem. I'm not blaming him alone, there were lots of not so stellar people in my life that made me feel worthless. But you all know your first relationship and how it changes you.

What does this have to do with punk rock? Nothing. Just the roots of my musical education begin with the roots of my emotional miseducation.

Back to the present. Like I was saying my completely non-abusive, super amazing, teaching me to love husband took me to a punk show. Chaos in Tejas. We went to see Guitar Wolf. A Japanese gimmicky band. They were in a fun zombie movie called Wild Zero. I haven't been to a show, much less a punk show in years. I am an old lady, with babies!

I had forgotten how much I loved the punk scene. Little pushing mosh pits, fist pumping, screaming out the anthemic lyrics, and even the too cool for school people who have to look bored and nod their heads a little bit. I love it all. I also discovered a new band "Off With Their Heads." Who rocked my fucking socks off. I bought one of their CD's and jammed out on the way home.

I had a fantastic time. The venue was outside so it was hot as balls. (Balls are known for their hotness by the way.) We were near the port a potties that gave off an impressive stench of feces and chemicals. The cement floor was covered in water? beer? I was convinced it was pee sloshing onto my ankles by the end of the night. There were surly bartenders, who gave me the flattest coke ever. It came from a can, how did they make it flat? I got shoved into by sweaty people, and since I'm a girl I got the "Even though there is plenty of room, I am going to pretend like I have to squeesh past you and rub my dick on your ass accidentally." Robert didn't even get bumped into once!

I know it may sound like I am describing the crappiest day ever, but I'm describing the best time I've had in a long time without kids around. Sans the penis grazing. Even if you're not a huge fan, you should go to a punk show once. Yell, jump up and down. Try not to hook up with any emotionally abusive punk rockers. And practice elbowing people in the stomach if they try and rub up against you.

Have you ever been to a punk show? Or what's your equivalent?

Some Hope to Tide You Over

“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.”

“But suppose God is black? What if we go to Heaven and we, all our lives, have treated the Negro as an inferior, and God is there, and we look up and He is not white? What then is our response?”

Bobby Kennedy was shot in 1968, five years after his brother. He was known as America's great  hope. We'll never know if he was or if he would have changed anything if he'd had a chance to be president. But some of his quotes make me believe that he probably would have. He also famously quote George Bernard Shaw, saying "There are those who look at things the way they are and say why. I dream of things that never were and say why not." I think we should take that advice and ask ourselves honestly. "Why not?"
What have you dreamed of lately?

Dulcet Tones

Music and Rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul. -Plato

Food For Thought

Had a craptastic day again! I tried really hard not to lose it at the dentist when they told me I had to wait another hour. Then we got free donuts and good Mexican food. So the day ended on an upswing. Tonight I don't have to work and have a date night, so hopefully it just gets better. How was your week?

50 state stereotypes. It's true our morons are bigger in Texas. 

I know memorial day was last week, but these amazing pictures on Pioneer Woman brought me to tears.

This one is short and sweet because I got distracted by doing actual work at work, and googling myself. 

Have you guys seen anything good this week?

The Sookie Stackhouse Series: Book Review

I love supernatural books. I love anything with a vampire, or a lycanthrope. Especially a lycanthrope. I started watching True Blood at first, but then we canceled HBO, or I started working on that night. I can't remember. But I can thank it for introducing me to the series. I have all but the last two books and have read them through at least three times. Even on the third reading I can't put them down. I forgo sleep to finish the chapters.

If you are a True Blood watcher, you can still read the books, they are nothing like the series. At all. They went off into left field during the very first season.  So you won't feel redundant.

For anyone living under a bridge, Sookie is a telepathic barmaid in Louisiana. In her reality vampires are real. They have outed themselves because the Japanese created synthetic blood meant to be used for transfusions. The most popular brand is "True Blood." Sookie meets Vampire Bill who sucks her into the supernatural world, where she discovers that their are a lot more then vampires out there. 

I'm going to call a spade a spade, this is a romance novel. A little gorier then most, but still. Girl meets boy, loves boy, boy does something stupid, girl makes boy jealous, in a continuous loop. I would say it's a step up from Twilight (maybe 10 or 125 steps) and a step below Anne Rice vampire books. Charlaine Harris's storytelling is good, her writing is good too. Not great. Good. But she really knows how to develop a character.  For example Sookie, I like her. I want to hang out with her and talk about Erik's extreme sexiness. She's a southern girl, raised right and just trying to get by in life, burdens and all. But still keeps a smile on her face.  She's like me! Except with bigger boobs and a vampire boyfriend.

I think a summer read should be easy, but interesting and a little steamy. And the Sookie books have all these. I highly recommend them. 

What's your criteria for the perfect summer read?

If It's A Severed Head, I'm Going To Be Very Upset.

Today in 1976 "Bohemian Rhapsody" went gold. This song holds a special place in my heart. When I was ten or eleven, my best friend and I used to watch Wayne's World non-stop. We knew every single world. And it was the first time we had ever heard Queen. Now that I am older and wiser, I've listened to lots of Queen. But I will still always cherish that scene in Wayne's World. We would head bang along with them in the mirthmobile and I air drum at the same spot every single time I listen to it. Still. So turn up the speakers and jam out, be sure to head bang, I don't care if you're at work. It's like a law or something.

Here's the og video for the purists.

The obviously amazing Muppet's version.

And the infamous movie scene.

What's your favorite music scene in a movie?