Complaints R Us

complaintsmy phone is acting wonky.
i can barely keep my eyes open.
i didn’t finish cleaning up my dining room.
the neighbors are making weird noises that sound like one of those old school talking dolls, but underwater.
the laundry pile is sitting there mocking me. i actually heard it laughing.
my emails are sitting there, waving.
i want to pull out my hair- which also is seriously in need of coloring.
so- i guess i have to add “I NEED TO ALSO COLOR MY HAIR”
i kind of want to go out tonite to watch RuPaul at the bar, but that would require changing out of sweats.
i reaaaaallllllly want to comment on someone’s blog that needs a good kick in the pants…….. but i won’t.
or will i?
i REALLY should go to the gym tonite.
i’m running out of things to complain about.
i don’t want to do anything but watch Downton Abbey.
i have the attention span of a kindergartener.

all of these things.
BUT! i did get enough stuff done last week so that no one has to throw me off a cliff! so there’s that!
plus i had a great fun-filled weekend. i only hope that i can finish my TO DO list in full this week.
here’s hoping.


It’s Your Job Now, D’ya Hear Me?

to doi’m not sure if it’s the three cups of coffee or just a week’s worth of pent up guilt, but i’m twitchy enough to get my ass in gear and start crossing stuff off of THE GI-NORMOUS TO DO LIST OF DOOM… i’d like to thank my friends for peer pressuring me into starting six more projects and this cold February weather for my incredibly flaky DEFCON TWO-level itchy dry skin.

i’m giving myself ONE WEEK to finish everything on the aforementioned GI-NORMOUS TO DO LIST.  one.  ONE.  that’s it.  JUST ONE GODDAMN WEEK.  i can’t take it anymore.  it’s me or THE DAMNED LIST.   if i don’t finish it all, you have my permission make that, THE OBLIGATION to pitch me off of the front of a boat,  Jack-from-the-Titanic-style…. just chuck me right off.  i’m not even joking.  i don’t even care if i’m on fire and running from a pack of rabid, poorly dressed drag queens, if by next Monday the 24, i don’t have every single thing on my list done- it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY, dear reader, to throw me the fuck off a boat…(or cliff, whichever is more convenient for you.)


Just Give Me the Oreos and No One Gets Hurt

if only i could stop shoveling food into my fatmouth, i’d be okay.  but  how do you give up food?  food, glorious, food?  that’s like saying- stop having fun, *MissTheresa.*  stop breathing.  stop hanging out with your friends.  i yo yo dieted all last year.  that was not pleasant.  who am i kidding?  i’ve yo yo’ed WHILE i was yo yo-ing my entire life away.  let’s face it.  it tastes good ON PURPOSE.  cigarettes stink and frankly, taste nasty and make EVERYTHING ELSE taste nasty.  HOWEVER, i have considered taking up smoking so that i could be successful at quitting SOMETHING.

preach, ralph, preach!

preach, ralph, preach!

giving up alcohol would be easy squeezy, and i admittedly love me some booze.  but i can definitely quit alcohol no prob, because even the most delicious of girlyshots still aren’t THAT yummy.   you can pretend that you are “fancy” and love the taste of nine-thousand year old scotch, but all of the LYING and fakery in the world doesn’t fool me into believing that you just enjoyed consuming something that tastes like poisoned gasoline.  pretend all you want, friend.  i’ll be over here with my face stuck in a bag of cheesy poofs.

then there’s sex- i enjoy doin’ it immensely, but i feel like if i was ADDICTEDaddicted that i’d even be able to control that.  i don’t gamble, do drugs or shop for more than essentials.  i’m not even that into anything on tv enough to have to give it up.  but food?  a nice chilly sliver of tiramisu, or some golden crispy fried chicken?  never!  almond cookies and italian hoagies, cheese, cheese, cheese, sushi, cheese, tortellini, milkshakes, blue cheese burgers?  oh, i love food.

FOOD OPTIONSmoreover, i hate exercise, THAT i could quit.  but warm and crispy with REAL BUTTER chocolate chip cookies?  pork chops?  steak?  cheese?  no way.  i’ve been dieting so long that while i was diligently tracking carbs and counting points, a whole new batch of diets have cropped up to try and “assist” me in doing the one thing i just can’t do.  simply, i cannot QUIT FOOD.  scallops and shrimp, buffalo wings, tacos, loaded baked potatoes, curly fries?  oh…. food.  i can’t quit you.  processed, whole, organic, local, taco truck?  gimme it.  ALL OF IT.  poutine, naan, halushki, Soylent Green, sweet and sour shoes- i don’t care—give it here.  are you going to finish that?  breakfast for dinner?  right on!  meatloaf for breakfast?  sho nuff!  taco bell at 2 am?  absolutely.  i LURVE food.


i’ve heard all of the tips, tricks, “rules” and guidelines.  i know what is healthy and what isn’t.  i don’t blame genes, thyroids, gluten, carbs, depression, my job, stress or even the media.  i like to eat.  it’s just that simple.  i’m not that worried about losing all of the fat i need to- i imagine i shall accomplish this in my lifetime- HOWEVER, short of wiring my jaws shut, or hypnosis convincing me that food isn’t awesome i probably will never be able to quit loving it.  FOOD.

Fatpants, Please?

fridayi pushed through work as hard as i could today- complete with taking down a client’s christmas tree (yes, i know that it is january 31) and the whole time all i could think about was how AWESOME it was going to be to get home, get into my fattest of fat pants, make some tea and write.  if i felt like getting a little crazy, i was going to read.

i decided i was going to make a plate of nachos, put on some Pearl Jam and just ignore what the rest of the world was doing.  simple enough, right?  wrong.

  1. my fattest fat pants weren’t dry yet, so i had to change out of work clothes and into something not as comfy.
  2. i remembered my vow to give the Terror Dogs baths.  so i had to do that and itwas AWFUL.  the dogs LOATHE the hair dryer, you know, if that ever comes up as a question for Final Jeopardy.
  3. got some bad news-about, not just being broke- but being REAL REAL broke, and even broke-r.
  4. 6,000 other little shitty annoying things, and now my blood is all angried up and my brain is mush.


i’m phonin’ this one in kids, i give up.  maybe after a little mindless staring out the window, i’ll be back to good and can do some actual writin’.  until then-


on day 211 in the year 2014, i hope to have all of our credit cards paid off.  this is less of a dream and actually quite attainable as we have been using one of those credit counselingdebt programs for the last few years and are finally in the homestretch.  by july 30, i should also have my car paid off- WOO-FUCKIN-HOO!  so clearly, we’ll be doing monespend all the moneyy angels on the floor (think snow angels, but in giant piles of crisp twenty dollar bills)!  this will free up about $800-  *mind boggles*… i’m practically salivating thinking about all of that money!

we have been so behind on bills and so far in over our heads in debt for so long- there just still doesn’t even seem to be a light at the end of our impoverished tunnel, but it’s there.  we live paycheck to paycheck, day to day, on a budget of under $400 a month for groceries for a family of three and with ZERO frills in life.  we don’t go out to movies or out to restaurants,  we don’t have fancy cars and don’t have even cable.  hell, we use our neighbor’s internet connection for fucksake.  i can’t remember the last time i bought clothes or shoes and my bras have been reduced to basically some material attached to a string- the elasticity is all but gone.

easter candywe celebrated Thriftmas this year and didn’t spend a penny on anything other than Christmas dinner.  my boyfriend works overtime and i’m working on a second job.  i don’t know how we got so broke- but here we are.  the thought of $800 elevates my heart rate and i honestly get giddy!  i’m not looking at $800 a month for blowing on vacations or ridiculously unnecessary designer bags or clothes, but i WOULD like to buy some new underpants and i’d die of ecstasy to buy a new pair of jeans (i currently only have two pair and i alternate them every day- all week).  we aren’t going to go buy new phones or iPads or even ANY sort of technology, but it will be GLORIOUS to be able to buy MILK ANY TIME WE WANT.  oh.  it will be heaven.

we don’t have netflix or a dvr-thingy.   we borrow dvds from friends and get books from the library.  we play board games and make our own pizzas from scratch.  but these are things we enjoy, so that aspect of our lives won’t change.  but it will be SO AMAZING to say- “let’s go out to chinese” and just go.  it will be nice not to go into a panic when our brakes get squealy, or have a full blown panic attack when an appliance goes on the fritz.  OH MY FUCK! I CAN GET A HAIRCUT BY A PROFESSIONAL AGAIN INSTEAD OF TRIMMING THIS SHAG RUG ON MY HEAD MYSELF!  oh happy day!!!!

we are used to getting by on nothing.  and i mean NOTHING, and that’s ok, we’ve made it this far on nothing.  we don’t need MUCH.  we don’t need all the bells and whistles and frills like most people and have survived for a very long time with NOTHING.  when we FINALLY get SOMETHING, we aren’t going to change, we just won’t need to scrounge and scrimp and forego EVERYTHING.  we can have SOME THINGS.

bath salts

life will change.  it will be so much easier in 190 days.  and better.  and if not, hell, with $800 extra a month?  we’ll just fucking BUY a better life.

Did People Get a Free Kitty For Creating a Blog?

With all of the writin’ that is going on, is anyone actually readin’?  i mean, seriously?   it seems that EVERYONE is a writer these days, in the way that about five years ago everyone was a singer destined for American Idol, and like ten years ago everyone was an actor.  i’m pretty sure 65% of my Facebook friends were all models three years ago too.  but now?  everyone is a fuckin’ writer.  i guess when people realized that spewing out videos for youtube and making tumblr accounts was more work than they wanted to spend, they gave up on that, because i remember not too long ago EVERYONE had a vlog and was making five minute video movie reviews and recording about their favorite eyeshadow color.  they were all going to be the next Tay Zonday, or Jenna Marbles.  everyone was looking for their instant ten minutes of fame and was expecting to go viral with videos of drunken party antics.

i guess none of that happened. so they’ve moved on to Pinterest and spend all day virtually pinning DIY crafts that they’ll never do and planning their platinum dream weddings from their cubicles at work.  it’s an incredible timesuck and so easy that a chimp could find 67 recipes for perfect champagne macarons.  but this only accounts for half of the bored attention whores looking for internet fame and glory.  so now they are all blogging.  i must admit that i don’t even click on the links to their pages anymore.  in the beginning i tried to be supportive so i would read about the great dinners they got at the local restaurants and the Power Mom meetings they had at Panera and what they ate there.  and how it’s so annoying to not be able to buy kale at Costco, or find Uggs for Little Kimmy except online.  or their blogs about the cruel injustice of Netflix not carrying their favorite shows and so they are forced to order the upper tier of cable so they don’t miss out on what Honey Boo Boo or Kim Kardashian are doing.  i can’t keep up.  i simply i refuse to.  and truly, i’m going to be honest, they are boring.  i hate reading their constant complaints on Facebook about what happened last night on Downton Abbey or Game of Thrones and i certainly don’t give two shits about their blog about how they would make Walking Dead better by adding more realistic weapons (or some shit).

i don’t expect any of them to read what i write and truly and honestly, 85% of what i write is purely cathartic for me.  i’m admittedly self involved and self serving with my blog too, but i am trying to build up a bunch of very like minded bloggers for my own little happysnark blogi-verse.  hopefully together we will outlast these flash-in-the-pan so-called writers until they move on to, i dunno, being conceptual artists.  until then, won’t you come and blog with me?

You Don’t Have To Go Home, But You Can’t Stay Here

I USED to have a reputation as a party girl. and this fatbitch here lived up to it. i was pretty proud of it in fact. you could lay out four shots of ANYTHING on the bar, and girlfriend here would drink it. again, i’m actually proud of it. i had my very own custom drink at a bar and even would get the old “NORM!”-from-cheers-type of yell when i would walk into certain places. it was a very nice ego boost and helped my morbidly obese self esteem a lot. alcoholic-ally speaking, i realize that’s not really a good thing. eh. *shrugs* i had the reputation of being the first person on the dance floor and was going strong until the house lights came on and the dj tried shooing everyone away with Closing Time by Semisonic. i was a diva and people enjoyed it. i was a plus sized goddess and i had lots of followers (none of which were chubby chasers, thank you very much). i had a reputation. but in a very very positive way. people looked to me for a fun night of dancing and partying. i was everyone’s cruise director; friday night would roll around and i’d get a dozen texts of “what’s going on for tonite?” i was fun. and everyone had fun when they were with me. there was no shame in that. i was an inspiration to fat girls. they saw me dressing the way i wanted to, i got hit on, picked up, always had people buying me drinks, i always had dates, got hookups- you name it. anything us fat girls envied the skinny girls for- i did. and people noticed. it was fantastic. i was a chubby girl hero for fucksake.

now before you go and think i was some boozy slutbag (which in actuality, i was) i was also a good mom. i truly was. not in a Jerry Springer- “I GOT SIX BABY DADDY TO MY KEEDS, BUT I’M STILL A GOOD MOM”-defense-type of way- i really was. i was a proud mom. a boozy partier- mom. go ahead and judge all you want. my former marriage was rough and admittedly i married too young. so i got my second chance. and i didn’t waste a second.   but for as much as people loved the party girl part of me- they also loved how much i cherished my son.  i had a reputation for being an awesome mother.  IN YOUR FACE, NAYSAYERS!  i did it all!  true story!

but that was back in my hayday. i’m pretty much the same person as i ever was- but not really. i’m still a good mom and i still can do four shots without thinking, but i don’t go home with different people anymore. i volunteer a lot and spend more time in my jammies than i used to, but i still enjoy life. i don’t feel as inspiring to anyone anymore, especially fat girls, but, i hope that a younger version of me is out there somewhere, dancing with strangers, having all of her drinks bought for her and living life for all it’s worth.

but beyond good mom and a very active member of the Pittsburgh GLBT community, i don’t have much of a reputation anymore and i’m okay with that. i’m involved in a lot of things and do as much as i can, whenever i can, but don’t really mind blending in with the scenery. i still manage to stand out as i will never fit all of the way in because i’m am an obnoxious loud mouth with a hearty laugh- and that’s okay with me. if that is what i am known for, i’m absolutely okay with that.