My Face Isn’t Red, But My Fridge is GROSS

  1. i unapologetically love The Bee Gees.
  2. i shovel the sidewalk, get the mail and scrape ice off my car in snowman pajamas.
  3. i have spent lots of time at “clothing optional” campgrounds and i am a big ol fat girl.
  4. i often eat cereal for dinner.
  5. i didn’t learn how to drive or get my license until i was 25 years old.
  6. i used to work at an “adult bookstore” and helped people buy vibrators and porn.
  7. i now clean houses for a living.
  8. i hated being pregnant. all nine months and didn’t think childbirth was beautiful or magical.
  9. i still have to look at the keys sometimes to type.
  10. i cry when i do my taxes because i hate math so much.
  11. i graduated from art school but can’t draw very well.
  12. i lie and say that i am paying attention to people when try and give me directions, when really i’m ignoring them and just go and google it.
  13. i despise shopping and would rather get my clothes from a thrift store, department stores make my skin crawl.
  14. i am openly bisexual.
  15. i don’t believe in ghosts even though my mother was an ordained Spirtualist minister, claimed to be psychic, and performed exorcisms out of our house.
  16. i tinkle when i laugh too hard on occasion. ok. i do it all of the time
  17. I LOATHE baby showers and wedding showers WITH A PASSION.
  18. i very rarely pay attention to names in books, so, a lot of times near the end, i have absolutely NO CLUE what is happening to people.  i’m like a toddler.
  19. i cuss like a truck driving-sailor.
  20. i hate my neighbors so much that i secretly wish bad things will happen to them when they park in our spots…. *giggles and hides from karma)

having said all of this, i am embarrassed by very little, however, that if you looked in my refrigerator right now, i would be horrified.

bee gees

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/daily-prompt-red/

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Hey, I Just Met You and This is Crazy- Let’s Get Matching Tattoos!

i’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately, like everyone does.  i have friends, good ones, and i think we all have those too.  but i want more, i need  more.  i’m a flaming disaster of an extrovert, an attention whore of the highest degree.  my days start and and with friends.  friends!  friends! friends!!!!!

friendsi make friends easily, i always have, but i’m VERY particular with who i keep in my innermost circle, so find myself alone more often than not.  but, i have to say, i’d rather have THE ONE, the PERFECT friend, than 519 Facebook-style surface friends.  i need people that can handle my obnoxiousness, loud cackling and oftentimes embarrassing antics.  i swear A LOT, have EXTREMELY strong opinions and there are no off-limit topics.  i think and live completely outside of the box and instead of black and white, i see the world in rainbow and greys.  although i can mix with really any kind of person or group, i don’t really belong anywhere, and this is probably why friend-finding is always so challenging.

verucabut i don’t want just ONE friend, i want ALL of the friends RIGHT NOW.  i want a herd of fourteen bridesmaids that are “totes my bffs”, and fight over who will throw me a shower.  i want a crowd of buddies that rent limos and go bar hopping or compete in weight loss contests, or sit around planning camping trips and vacations.   is it too much to want to frolic with a bunch of people in a fountain, for godsake?  but as it stands there are no pizza parties, jet ski rentals or fun runs planned. nothing.  but really, i honestly hate most of that jazz, (especially the herd of bridesmaids) and i’m happier surrounding myself with people that openly discuss bodily functions and find different ways to shock each other.

the friends that i do have text me throughout the day and we occasionally get drunk together at each other’s homes, and i’m actually very cool with that.  but i definitely need more buddies after the last big Friend Exodus of 2013.  those were some sad times indeed.  i have had the experience that once my friends start intermingling, they tend to start sleeping together, or at least seeing each other more than me, and i’m all but forgotten.  it’s best to keep a good and overflowing pool of people, so that when a few start to migrate, i’m not stuck going to pottery class solo, or forced to eat the Super Loaded Fries for Two by myself.  cause i will!  i’ll do it!  JUST WATCH!

harry ron hermioniebut how do you find these people?  how does a person amass large groups of friends at one time?  i want to be back in kindergarten where everyone at your table was your friend.  you didn’t have much choice, this was your main social circle. you just were friends because, well, just because.  or in first grade, your friends were assigned to you alphabetically, and if you were lucky enough to not move every couple of years like my family, the kids that were assigned seats near you JUST based on last names alone, continued to be your friends for a long long LONG time.  second and third grade you were force-sorted into interacting with “Good Readers”  or “Bad With Math” which is where i spent most of my days.
heathersthe years went on, and you meshed better with kids that were in the same activities as you, or carried Star Wars lunchboxes, and this was before anyone cared that you were a GIRL with a Star Wars lunchbox.  and college you hung out with people that liked the same music or had the same art posters on their walls. the point is, it wasn’t hard to meet people- you just migrated to people that liked the same stuff.  now you have to worry about political affiliations, religious preferences, intolerance based on sexual preference, income, status, your favorite football team….  it’s definitely not easy and i have tried it all, meet up.com, online groups, bars, local clubs- and there are just as many people out that that want the same thing- to meet other people- but what is it that bonds them together?  what do you say to take that next step to “friendship” without looking creepy?  how do you get people to actually get off their couches, out of their comfort zone and into wearing matching outfits and tattoos with you?  you wanna be my friend?

thelma and louise selfie

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/daily-prompt-celebrity/

remember

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.  food.is.delicious.  food.is.yummy.  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.

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.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/01/daily-prompt-the-end/

Nice, Schmice. I Just Want To Go Home.

assholei catch myself saying “did i ever SAY that i was nice?” at least twice a day, mostly to myself, and mostly grumbling in response to some idiot.  but still.   i’m not a nice person, and i admit it.  i’m not a BAD PERSON, i’m just not nice.  NICE is your Gramma.  your librarian is NICE.   NICE is a kindergarten teacher.  NICE- is NOT me.  i am NOT nice.

not only am i NOT nice, i also am extremely snarky and sarcastic, with a smidgen of self-deprecation thrown in, making me quite a character; which, believe it or not, makes me rather LIKABLE.  this is 75% me being me, and 25% an act.  when i have to interact with people, i put up a bit of a shield, for self preservation.  why, you may ask?  why do i need to self preserve?  well, mostly because i’m fun. and funny.  and ridiculous.  and most of all- i am THE CLOWN.  everybody LOVES the clown.  this is fine, i accept it.  i was voted CLASS CLOWN in third grade for fucksake.  you can’t carry that title around through life without constantly picking up clingy people that immediately assume that since you said something funny, you are instant BEST FRIENDS FOR LIIIIIIFFFFFFFE!  which, really, the opposite is true.  i tend to not get along well with people who are sweet and kind and NICE.  call me a snob, or whatever, but, that’s how i roll.

so unless i put up this shield of what i like to call “CUSTOMER SERVICE FACE”, i’ll have 416 Facebook friend requests before i even get to my car.  this customer service face was forged from working four Christmases dealing with asshole customers at Toys R Us.  it also happens to be the same tone i use when talking to kids.  “Hey! Buddy!  You wanna take that drum somewhere else?! away from me and into the other room, pal?”   cheer masking contempt.  it’s how i get by.

people will disagree with me when i say that i’m not a nice person, but truly, i am not.  again, this doesn’t mean that i am a BAD person, i’m just not NICE.  people that TRULY KNOW ME, will agree.  i’m a GOOD human being.  i volunteer a ton.  i do a lot of advocacy work.  i’m just not NICE.  i’d just as soon NOT chitchat with the ladies at the gym, and i really hate hugging people that i don’t know well.  i’d just as soon walk by someone i that i only know through other people, than stop and make awkward conversation.  i dread small talk with dental hygienists, hair stylists and neighbors.  i’m fine smiling and waving, but when i am forced to interact with people that i just have to be NICE to, i tense up.  i despise being stuck in the middle of large groups of people- like at bars or concerts and not because of personal space issues, but because i hate fake and forced interaction.  let me just stand there and enjoy the show or my drink.  no, i don’t want to dance with you and please don’t try and dance up on me.

having said all of that- i am NOT an asshole (outwardly).  i respect and commend anyone that works customer service or directly with other people.  waitresses and bartenders, servers and cashiers- god bless you.  you deal with the idiots of the earth and i will make every possible effort to make waiting on me as easy and pleasant as possible.  i smile, act cheerful, will say silly things, tip well, and even bag my own groceries.  HOWEVER, we both know that we aren’t friends and our time together is brief.  this is fine.  for both of us.  anyone that HAS NO CHOICE but to interact with the public, deserves my instant cheerful CUSTOMER SERVICE FACE too.  it’s only right.  but cheerful CUSTOMER SERVICE FACE is NOT small talk about the weather, or trite phrases about what day of the week it is, i.e., “Thank God It’s Friday, eh?” or “Happy Hump Day!”  and unless i GENUINELY care about what a particular sports team is up to, i don’t pretend to care for the sake of idle chit chat.

at the bottom of it all, i’m not a BAD person because i don’t want to befriend every single person that i come in contact with, no matter how much i remind them of their “one crazy friend back in college”.  it’s easier to be standoffishly customer service face-d than kicking yourself later when you see their Facebook friend request, knowing full well that you’ll never actually hang out with them again.

imagine an awkward blind date.  we’ve all had one.  you’ve talked about what you do for a living and the last movie you went to see; you might have even talked about pets or hobbies.  but you know it’s not going anywhere and are basically counting seconds until it’s over.  you have checked your phone enough time to be considered rude and texted a few people “WORST DATE EVER”, “HE DOESNT EVEN LOOK LIKE HIS PICTURE, GURL!!!!”  you go through possible scenarios until deciding on the one that looks the least douchey so you can leave.  THIS is what i am trying to avoid.  but instead of it being a date, it’s a friend of a friend that was dragged to a party and standing by themselves in the corner, or Painfully Awkward Guy all by himself at the concert.  it’s cutting off any need for exchanging phone numbers with the out-of-towners you had a few drinks with, and eliminating the insincere “we should go for a drink” with the people in your non credit painting class.  it’s the priceless opportunity to sneak out of your neighbor’s Party Lite Party without having to share your famous Bacon Cheeseburger Dip recipe, knowing full well they could just look it up themselves in the time it takes you to find a pen and write it down.

NICE PEOPLE, all of them, but me?  nope.  i am NOT nice enough, certainly not for that.   i like some ACTUAL GENUINE CONNECTION in my connection to people, not just half hugs from the table full of crazy women you got stuck playing BABY SHOWER BINGO with all afternoon.

you know that i’m right.  you don’t have to feel bad.  you aren’t an awful person, you just aren’t nice either, and deep down, you know that you don’t really care.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/23/daily-prompt-kindness-2/

My Name is Theresa and I’m an Addict…

Hi.  my name is Theresa and i’m an addict.

(in droning monotous voice) “hi theresa”.

it has been three days….  three days since-

“go ahead, theresa, you can say it.”

it has been three days since.. *deep sigh*  i watched a Christmas movie.

that’s right.  i’m a Christmas movie addict.  i’m not proud of it.  i guess it all started with Rudolph.  back in the days before dvds or even vcrs, you relied on TV GUIDE to tell you what shows were on and when.  a few weeks before Christmas my mother would read us the listings for all of the classic holiday favorites- Rudolph, Frosty, Charlie Brown; and we would nearly pee our jammies in anticipation.  Christmas movies were so precious and special because you got ONE and only ONE CHANCE to see them a year.  that’s pretty serious shit.  even after most families got cable, you still only had a limited amount of time to get your fix of stop/start animation filled with freaky jittery characters cavorting and singing terrible yet catchy tunes.  mmmmmm…..  Heatmiser, Snowmiser, the Burgermeister…  we grew up with them.  we hated them for trying to hold back Christmas, but we loved them for what they stood for.  they became a part of our traditions as much as overeating and our dad’s drunken capers.  we fired up as much of that Rankin-Bass goodness as we could in the short time we had.  we were hooked.   our hearts hurt when the credits rolled and you knew it would be an entire year before we would get another holiday high.  january left you empty.

the years moved on and Christmases came and went.  new movies were created and added to quiet our inner Grinches.  pretty soon, anyone in America with cable, a VCR and/or a DVD player could spend an entire afternoon speedballing everything from Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas to A Year WIthout a Santa Clause.  it became a part of our culture, of who we were; we became addicts.  it was nothing to mainline Frosty, Frosty’s Winter Wonderland and Frosty Returns in one bump.  you could even slam Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July, you know, if you were into that kind of thing.

every year was the same, i would get blazed and overdose on these beloved holiday movies and then spend an entire year in withdrawal- jonesing for more festive frivolity.  from the Muppets to Kris Kringle, we needed more and more and more AND MORE doses of yuletide cheer.  eventually TBS did something never done before- they decided to run Christmas Story for twenty-four hours in a row and became the ultimate enabler for holiday movie junkies like myself.  many a Christmas i spent locked in my bedroom, for hours on end, fixing on the antics of Master Ralph Parker and his Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two Hundred Shot Range Model Air Rifle.

now here i am, forty years old, with a 19 year old son, and there are more holiday movies than ever, so i can blaze up hours of sweet, pure Christmas joy as soon as Thanksgiving is over.

my boyfriend said that i had a problem.  he said that it’s time to put the dvds away for the year.  but maybe i’m not the one with the problem, maybe HE’S the one with the problem.  its just a movie, is all.  so what that it’s been a month since Christmas?  i’m just going to spark up National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, just one more time.  who doesn’t love Aunt Bethany?  she’s hilarious!  so what if i had Muppets’ Christmas Carol on repeat four times in a row?  it doesn’t mean anything.   i’m not hurting anyone.  it takes the edge off, man.  i need it, i need it to relax.  just one more.    just one more.  i’m just going slip in Santa Clause is Coming to Town-

i don’t have a problem.  i can quit anytime i want.  DON’T YOU DARE JUDGE ME.  i chose this life, i don’t want your pity.

i need it.

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?

Throw It Back! Throw It Back! For the Love of God Throw It Back!

BURN IT! BURN IT WITH FIRE!

popped collar and everything.
awwwww, yeah!

My Throwback Thursday picture kicks all of your pictures RIGHT IN THE ASS.
deal with it!
the saddest part of this picture was that i really thought i looked A-MAZING here— and now, i see OLD LADIES with that hairdo, and it makes me feel sad.
CAN ANYONE BEAT THIS PIC?
i doubt it.
you don’t know who you are dealin’ with here.