J&M BITCHFEST

What I'd really like to bitch about, I can't because it involves a lawsuit. Yesterday, I spent all day giving a videotaped deposition. I came home frazzled. My mind was racing and I felt in need of some TLC. Oh yeah! That's right! She's [me] in friggin' time out, so TLC wasn't going to happen. She [me] has this notion that she needed to take a break from men because she has impaired judgment. Isn't that fucking special? She [me again] might as well just wear a chastity belt. In the meantime, tiny twattlers have moved in and they have let the old love canal get overgrown with cobwebs and who knows what else is in there. The jolly Green Giant could have moved in and she'd [braindead me] never know! From the valley of the jolly... Ho! Ho! Ho! Green Giant! Hear the echo??? I really have to say women are dumb bitches sometimes! I mean we can be really S-T-U-P-I-D at times!!! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! 

From a man's perspective, I was told at an early age "I was sitting on a goldmine" and what did I do? I ran with every loser within a 50 mile radius. A real freak magnet here! Yeah, I was sitting on a goldmine alright! I should have hired myself out to a circus. She walks! She talks! She crawls on her belly like a reptile freak! Oh shit! Wait a minute I think I'm supposed to be bitching about someone or something else other than myself! Pardon me while I regroup and pull myself together. [small break to think] This is my blog and I am the Captain. The Captain would like to introduce you to Tennille (or Jnuts as I have always called him). I'd like to take you back several years when I first knew Jock was "the chosen one". (Jnuts, when did we start on MSN Spaces? Didn't it first open its pearly gates in late 2004?) Anyway, here was this guy blogging about his prostate. I knew then I had died and gone straight to blogging heaven. Here is Jock's rant titled "Footloose and Diaper Free" :

So, it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. There was no rectal exam. This was merely a PSA blood test. If my bloodwork comes back elevated, I will worry about the old finger bang at that time. Which is fine, as my 'roids have been acting up lately and the only way someone is going to shove anything up my ass is after they give me a bottle of tequila and they are in possession of a jackhammer. When asked if I wanted the rectal in addition to the PSA, I politely declined by saying, "only if you buy me dinner and call me daddy." My offer was refused. I DID get a Tootsie Pop and a blue ribbon enameled pin signifying "Prostate Awareness." I was already aware I had a prostate, but I took the pin anyway.

How could I leave that alone? I couldn't! I tried! But the force was strong within him! I answered the call of the wild with my own little twist titled "A Visit To Dr. Pain's Office" but included his delightful and very insightful words on my blog as a lead in for what I wanted to say:

I'd like to take this opportunity and turn a simple medical diagnostic test into a Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus moment. I believe every man I've ever known who has had a prostate exam has described the doctor as having fingers the size of tree limbs and the personality of Marquis de Sade. It's not difficult to picture the doctor coming into the examining room, snapping those latex gloves and telling the patient that the procedure may be a little uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? How about humiliating? And the poor fool isn't even being offered dinner and a movie to go along with it! I know medical staff do their best to preserve a person's dignity, but how dignifying can a prostate exam be if you're a male or a Pap smear and mammogram be if you're a female? The majority of people reserve access to the vajayjay, the twins and the Incredible Hulk exclusively for their significant other. Now, here we are with an almost total stranger and we're PAYING them to prod and poke us. Nope, we aren’t in some sleazy motel with a prostitute! We're in an examining room with our doctor! From a woman's perspective, I'd have to say Pap smears and mammograms are most likely the equivalent to the prostate exam. Guys, you're lucky because prostate exams aren't routinely done until a man reaches middle age. Ladies have to endure the joy of Pap smears and pelvic exams annually from the time they first become sexually active. Mammograms aren't started until later, but are routinely done at an earlier age than when prostate exams are started. For the men who have never had their significant other complain about the whole female going to the gynecologist ordeal, let me fill you in. We not only get the Pap smear and pelvic exam, but we get a rectal exam also. We also have a breast exam and then are sent to have a mammogram depending on what age we are. What can I really say about having a complete stranger stuff my breasts into a cold metal vice and flattening them to the width of a pancake except, "oh boy! Where can I get one of those gadgets to have at home?" (Okay ladies...are you laughing with me?) I guess the most difficult part of the whole exam experience is the waiting for the results part. Yep! We feel great! We didn't notice any lumps or any other abnormalities, but you never know! You always hear horror stories about someone who feels great one minute and then finds out they have cancer the next. I'm not a fretter and can only imagine what the wait for test results must be like for someone who worries about every little thing in life. They must drive themselves and everyone around them crazy in that period of time. How does anyone reassure or console someone like that? I have a suggestion for both genders. Guys, do something special for your lady to let her know you're there with her in spirit during this process. It doesn't take much to let someone know you care about them. A nice dinner out? A romantic getaway for both of you? Ladies, the same goes for you. Our guys need support, too (remember they're whiners!). How about tickets to a ballgame, taking him to a movie he wants to see (and you pay for it or it doesn't count) or buying something slinky from Victoria's Secret to wear for him? Just remember it's the thought that counts and doing something small may mean the world to the person you love. Actions always speak louder than words and here's an excellent opportunity to say 'I love you" very loudly!

So there you have it except for the comment our beloved Jock left for me as a response to what I had written:

Leave it to you to take my insipid tale about Nurse Ratched and turn it into something extremely worthwhile. I loved it and agree, except for one thing. Men are whiners? Oh, you must die! I'd come over there and slap you, but my back is killing me because I had to do dishes today. Damn, the pain is so intense from standing there it feels like I'm getting ready to give birth! Oh, and my hands are now all pruny and I think I'm coming down with the flu, because I've been sneezing and have a headache. Although, the headache could be from standing over the sink while steam rising from the water made me dizzy and disoriented. Mommy! I need to take a nap.

Gratitude statement: What can anyone say about or to someone like Jock, but a simple "thank you"? 

A MOMENT OF CLARITY

When people tell me, I need a boyfriend, I sometimes fall into a moment or two of weakness and actually long for the intimacy that's been missing in my life for the last 5 years. My moment of weakness is then followed by a mental slap in the face! What? Share the remote? Have some guy putting his feet on my table and asking for a sandwich?? Listen to a list of all my faults recited to me repeatedly? Start out with mind-blowing sex to be followed up with something less satisfying than "wham bam, thank-you, ma'am"? Be oogled as desireable due to being independent and free-spirited only to be told that I can stop being that way after I've been taken out of the meat market? Be forgotten on my birthday? Bought small appliances for Christmas? Expected to be a saucy tart 24/7 even when he hasn't showered and smells like decaying fecal matter? Have every piece of food I consume carefully scrutinized? Give up chick flicks for action/adventure movies? Be totally drained dry only to be tossed in the garbage for a perkier model? 

Gratitude statement: I am thankful for having such a great comparison in case Mr. Wonderful ever does show up! 

MEDICATION TIME

I know sometimes I ramble on about being alone when in reality, I'm exactly where I want to be. I think I have moments of weakness when I actually do miss having a significant other and then something always knocks me back into reality. Usually, it's someone I know going through some relationship drama that makes me want to vomit and run for cover. At times like those, I feel thankful that my life is without that kind of drama. Unfortunately, my life has other areas that take up the slack. I just read an article today about diabetes and stress. HA! And people think carbs are what kill... First and foremost on my bitchfest for today is my elderly mother. I call her "mother" for lack of anything else to call her. You see, this woman who looks like my mother really isn't my mother at all. The aliens must have abducted her about 5 years ago and put a empty pod in her place. The empty pod doesn't like to do the things my mother used to like to do. In fact, the only activity this pod likes is sitting in the dark and rocking in the rocking chair. 

The pod won't bathe, brush her teeth or eat properly, but when asked about depression, "it" responds that everything is fine. I'm at the point of pulling my hair out because I don't know what to do to help change things. All this stress is effecting my health, but short of installing an on/off switch in my head, I don't know how to just accept the fact that there isn't anything I can do. Believe me, over the past 5 years, I have tried everything known to man to interest the pod in anything and any suggestion I make is met with instant resistence. I even went as far as one day saying to the pod, "Okay we're even!" (I felt she was paying me back for me being such a rebellious shit in my younger years) The pod knew what I meant without any further explanation and it laughed at my frustration! The second bug that has crawled up my ass are people who disappoint me...I know,BOO HOO! I figure at this stage of life meaning "adulthood", people should follow through on things they say they are going to do or else they need to just keep their well-meaning pieholes closed. 

I'm tired of doing things for everyone and in turn, feeling like I'm used and unappreciated. Yes, I know I allow this and need to be a little less giving, but to be honest with you, I don't know how to be any other way. And I really don't think it's me who has the problem! Being able to give to others is an attribute, but the longer I live, the more I see it's an attribute that's taken advantage of by leeches, emotional vampires and other bottom feeders. At this moment I just want to tell everyone to "suck my ass dry!" I NEED DRUGS! NOW! And the sad part is, I'll take a deep breath or twenty and just go about my business. 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for being able to tell those around me, the givers of stress to fuck off ocassionally. 

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED

Yes, a funny thing did happened to me on my way to old age! I got distracted, sidetracked and ended up poked away in some hermitage on The Redneck Riviera. How the hell did that happen? Now, many years later here I am in a spot I never thought I'd be. I really didn't think at this stage of my life I'd be alone. Lately, I have laughed at myself for being such a loser. Here I sit typing away about love and life when obviously whatever formula I had carefully devised for successful relationships hasn't worked.

My head is full of stupid idealistic notions and all those notions have accomplished is to keep me isolated and alone. I think my plan royally backfired! I wish some of the married people out here would tell me the secret of success, longevity and of finding the right match for myself and where to search. I know people say as long as you're hunting you won't find what you're hunting for. Maybe so, but what about the last five years I haven't been hunting? Am I so defective and grotesque that the thought of being with me makes men run for cover? Does my independence work against me by causing any potential mate to feel unwanted or unneeded? Am I demanding? Not really! Actually, I'm low maintenance and I think this might be something that has worked against me also. 

You see, I had this foolish notion that the best things in life are free and love needn't be an expensive adventure. After all, they say money doesn't buy love. Also, I’ve never been a materialistic person. "Stuff" just doesn't impress me. I was always more impressed by what was inside a person than by what they owned. I think this is another flaw in my outlook on life. Am I a vain person? No, not at all! In fact, people look at me as a diamond in the rough. I guess I should have spent countless hours at the gym and thousands of dollars on make-up and saved my pennies to buy a pair of implants. Somehow, when I looked in the mirror over the years, I never saw a person who needed make-up and the hard physical work I did all my life seemed to keep me in pretty good shape. 

As for the implants... well 40C seems ample enough for me and since I never had a career as an exotic dancer, I never felt the need to enhance what mother nature already gave me. So what's wrong with me? And how do I fix it? Or do I just let it be and keep right on believing the right person is going to love me unconditionally and accept me for who I am when that has never happened? What are the odds at this point that the remainder of my life will be spent alone? I think statistics are starting to work against me here! Being a few standard deviations from the norm makes me at high risk to be an old maid. It's off to the nunnery for Mildred! The person I have deemed as being "okay" must not be. I wish I could see myself through someone else's eyes and then I'd know what to fix. 

It's hilarious that just recently I thought the metamorphosis was complete because I had emerged from a difficult time in one piece. Now, I’m beginning to think the metamorphosis has just begun and the road ahead of me is unclear! It sounds to me like I'm a prime candidate for a mid-life crisis! Now, all I need to do is find a suitable one...one worth the time and effort of doing. Knowing me as I do, I have no problem believing something will come my way and pique my interest...and probably be a total disaster (my specialty)! So let the fun begin! 

Gratitude statement: I actually am grateful to have lived this long to be faced with what to do with the rest of my life. 

EROTICISM AND THE WALMART SHOPPER

I hate crowds! I also hate shopping! I guess that not only makes me unAmerican, but also the atypical female. Sometimes I used to go grocery shopping late at night to avoid the crowds. Very late one night, I went to Walmart where I encountered a middle-aged couple ahead of me in the checkout line purchasing 3 items. I made the following observations about the couple: 

 1. They were a well-dressed, affluent, middle-aged couple. 

 2. They were obviously enamored with each other because they made frequent passionate public displays of affection (PDA) 

 My smile turned to utter delight as I became mentally captivated by the 3 items they purchased. To this day I often wonder why any couple would come to Walmart at 2 a.m. to buy a roll of duct tape, a reclining lawn chair and a can of whipped cream! No, I didn't follow them home, but I have to admit I was tempted! 

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for having a keen power of observation and enough sense to know when to leave well enough alone! 

The Definition of Confusion

When my children were still in school, they used to visit their grandparents on school holidays. I would drive halfway to Pensacola to meet my mother and place my children in her care. The first few days always seemed like bliss and then the house gradually seemed way too quiet. By the time I would pick up my children, I was more than ready to have them come home again. I welcomed that deafening chaos.

My mother was always rather rigid while I was growing up and had a very diplomatic way of handling punishment. If the guilty party didn't confess the first time when we were asked who did it, we all suffered the consequences. As I grew older and eventually became a parent myself, the woman who raised me seemed to change. She got soft in her old age! Had I broken her spirit? Possibly! But each time my children would rave on about the fun-loving person who they perceived their grandmother to be, I knew it wasn't the same person who raised me. My mother was proof that aliens do exist! Ask anyone from my old neighborhood! They knew my mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her voice alone could raise the dead.

Each time my children would go for a visit, it took weeks before I could straighten them out. My mother waited on them hand and foot and made them do nothing but fun things while they visited her. When they came home sassy and quite lazy, I would want to pull my hair out. One time while driving home, my children seemed quite mesmerized by a joke book one of them had gotten while in Pensacola. One of the visiting rituals was to take my three children (her angelic grandchildren) to Hawsey's, a used bookstore and let them each purchase a large paper bag full of books to read.

Since they were quiet on our trip home and this was an oddity, I tried to engage them in conversation only to be told they were reading jokes. That explained the occasional chuckle I heard from the backseat. I asked them to read aloud some of the jokes. My youngest child, Matthew spoke up and said he would read one. Although he was only 7 at the time, his reading skills were quite advanced for someone his age. As Matthew read, I almost drove off the road.

Whats' the definition of "confusion"?
Twenty blind lesbians in a fish market!

What? Now, with glee they started reading more jokes from the book until I asked them where they got the book. In unison...HAWSEY'S! And your grandmother let you buy that? Well, she never screened the books that were bought, so the book titled Truly Tasteless Jokes was easily purchased by my son, Daniel (age 9). When they all went on to recite the dirty little ditties my mother had taught them I knew she had lost her mind or maybe the rules that apply to being a parent were different from those being a grandparent. It definitely was a gotcha moment lovingly given to me by my mother. To this day, my mother just smiles innocently when this story is told.

An example of one of the my mother's ditties:

A flock of birds
Chocked full of tirds
Flew over my father's castle
They stretched their necks
And shit a peck
Then closed up their assholes.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful I don't live in a castle near a fish market.