Work at home: Take one

My office is closed today due to severe weather.

Now, I know I’m going to feel really bad when I hear that some sweet old lady got stuck in the mud for nine hours and had to eat her way out or someone’s darling Pit Bull got washed away with the flood waters, but seriously: I live in Phoenix, it rained, and they closed my office. As a gal who grew up in the Snow Belt, in a place so rainy that I could count the sunny days in a year on my fingers and toes, I just cannot wrap my head around this. If I had a nickel for every time I explained what a tornado warning was yesterday I’d have … 20 cents.

Anyway, being the lemons to lemonade kind of girl I am (that is not true) I decided to use this day at home to prove just how productive I can be in a work remote situation. (See yesterday’s post for why.)

I will document how this goes today.

6:30 – Alarm. Convince myself that I don’t need to get up yet and that I wouldn’t really get up at this time even if I WAS going into the office, so I should probably sleep another hour.

7:30 – Alarm. Again. This time I hum along to the ringtone of shmexxxy Matt Berninger singing “So Far Around the Bend,” stretch, kiss Barksdale on the head, rub his weird hairless belly for a minute, and think to myself, “Let’s do this woman!”

8 – Make coffee. Wash face. Consider shower and clothes. Decide not showering and staying in scrub pants and Modest Mouse t-shirt is one of my benefits for working at home.

8:30 – Start this blog post. Tell myself this will be a motivator to do something today, because how embarrassing would it be to have to admit to all of you that I ate peanut butter right out of the jar with a big spoon and watched Everybody Loves Raymond in my PJs all day?

8:45 – Eat peanut butter right out of the jar with a big spoon. It sounded good, OK? Don’t judge me! Breakfast is the most important meal.

9:07 – Realize I haven’t started working yet. Shiz. I have had A LOT of coffee, though.

12:09 – Go me! Three hours working. Drafted website copy for a giving appeal I’m developing with adorable babies on Valentine’s for that upcoming nasty holiday. Check. Drafted thank you letter in anticipation of all the generous donations we will receive. Check. Checked email and responded. Posted to company Twitter and FB accounts. Check and check! Rewarding myself with lunch break out of this apartment!

12:11 – Realize I never showered. Staying in for lunch. Mmmmaybe showering. Let’s not get too ambitious.

1:05 – Contemplate cocktail. Decide on getting back to work. (Still not showered).

2 – ish (yeah, that’s where we’re at with this) – Working like a good drone. Then decide that the fact that I’m still technically in bed, even though I’ve been working is making me feel like a miserable bum. This will not do. Get distracted looking at cute home office furniture online …

2:30 -- Back to work. Home stretch. That I’m still not showered is increasingly annoying. Grossing myself out.

4:12 – Can’t take it anymore. Shower time. Maybe bath. So I can multi-task by catching up on 30 Rock while getting’ clean. A good work at home lady knows how to juggle important tasks.

4:42 – No longer smelly or greasy. All of my major work “to dos” were accomplished. It’s Friday, is it so bad to wrap it up early?

So, this didn’t go so bad. I’ve learned some things. I think morning showers are still a good idea. Makes me feel more human. And a coffee or lunch break out of my bedoffice is necessary. Otherwise, there’s way more talking to myself than is acceptable, especially while I’m wearing scrub pants. I look like a mental ward patient. In all, productive day. I can do this, for sure.

Fellow WAH-ers, please share tips for getting it done away from the office. Please and thank you.

Inner Mean Girl Smackdown

I have spent a lot of my life psyching myself out of doing things I want to do because I think I can’t. Or that I’ll be a big ol’ failure. Or that people will laugh at me -- which is a ridiculous thought for a lady who falls down as much as I do.

About two years ago, after some of those Big Moments that make the “Life is short” thing really sink in, I decided to stop that. I decided that, hell, if I wanted to join the roller derby, then dammit, I would. Yes, I’m barely pushing 5’2”. Yes, I’m barely 110 fully clothed in winter. Yes, I haven’t worn a roller skate since Red Red Wine was in heavy rotation on the radio (do people still say “radio"?) That adventure ended horribly, to be sure, but …

I digress. It hasn’t been easy to adopt this new attitude. Anyone who has made it to 30 with something of a perfectionist outlook on life looks at the N-word as the dirtiest one there is. And I mean “No.” Get yer mind outta the gutter.

Why is “no” such a scary word? Why can’t we just hear “no” or “I don’t agree” or “I don’t feel the same way” or “Your body will never be capable of doing that so please stop before you kill yourself,” process it and move on to the next thing?

My friend, Martini, likes to say that we each have an Inner Mean Girl who likes to tell us “no” or to whisper sweet nothings about how we aren’t enough – pretty, skinny, funny, smart, flexible, whatever. It’s the voice that tells you you can’t without a logical reason.

Well friends, I’ve been bitch slapping that lady around lately. This week we had our latest throwdown and I think I’m the winner. And it’s part of the big changes I hinted at yesterday.

Y’all know I have a BF, VC, who lives a real far way away. Well, that sucks.

Other things that suck: dirt, cactus, snakes, 127 degree weather, sweat, Scottsdale, endless suburbs, ruined high heels due to melted asphalt, astronomical rent, dry air, hipsters, $15 martinis, Ed Hardy, serious lack of decent music, people who take PTO because it might rain.

So, I started thinking about moving eastward. Because thems my roots and I miss them. But I wasn’t very serious about it. But then, I was. That was my 20 second recap of my thought process over the last four months. You’re welcome.

Job hunting should have been on my list of things that suck. I tried that. Again, wasn’t too serious, then was. (are we sensing a pattern?) Then I had a wild idea. I’m really good at my job. And my company really likes me. And I work on a computer and phone with so little face-to-face contact that sometimes I have whole conversations in my office WITH MYSELF and no one notices.

So, why couldn’t I do my job from Minneapolis?

Inner Mean Girl: Woman, that’s so crazy. Why would they do that? They’ll just find somebody else to put her lumpy butt in that chair of yours.

Me: Your mom!

So, after about a week of mulling it over and talking it out with my Mirror Self countless times, I went to my supe with my thoughts – AND she totally agreed. I am an asset! They would like to work something out!

So details are being worked out and I don’t want to be premature (and I’ll keep you posted!), but I feel this is a time of triumph over NO and I’m super excited.

I’m curious about your experiences with the N-word. Are you all as scared of it as I’ve been? And what have you accomplished when you’ve pushed past that fear??

My Love Harder (re)post. And, I'll never neglect you again (maybe)

So, I wouldn't be surprised if no one is really reading this blog anymore. I have been woefully neglectful of it.

I guess the reasons I started it -- to fill up time in my sad single life, to share plain old awful dating stories, to laugh at myself so I didn't cry (too much) -- just aren't the focus of my life right now.

I do have some big changes happening. And, after some great news on the writing front (details to come, I hope!) and a fantastic conversation with a writer friend who may not know just how much he lit a fire under this wee behind, I have made a resolution to write more. However, I think it will look really different from this existing blog. I'll probably even change the name (and I am taking suggestions!!) I hope you'll consider still reading. Purty please. With sugar and stuffs?

In the meantime, I know I'm way behind, but I was inspired by Shine Out Loud today to repost this message.

I recently told someone just how much I cared about him kind of out of the blue. Well, maybe to him ... not me. Ain't that the way is works? It was nerve-wracking and I definitely had many "Oh shit, why the hell did I just do that???" moments as soon as it was out there in the universe.

I did it for this reason: Because you never know what's going to happen tomorrow, as cliche as that saying is. It's completely true. And when we don't take the moments to tell someone how awesome they are, we might not get them back. So, please read this and tell the people in your life how swell you think they are whenever you can.

My friends think I'm that crazy girl who sends flowers for no reason, or invites them over for impromptu dinner parties, or mails them a diorama, or whatev. But, as long as I know them, they'll never have to wonder about how I feel about them.

So, I think it's super awesome how the blogosphere banded together to send happy thoughts to some people who really needed them!
Please read Brandy's story below and send her and her sweetie happy thoughts! And check out Cleveland's A Plum to see some of what has happened since Brandy's December post.

My name is Brandy. And I have a blog.
And a plea.
I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach, and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds.
Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog– as personal as the dude that I adore. But I need your help. And it involves my dude.
He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job.
He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school– dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred.
He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.
I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making– but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you.
This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next.
Thank you for reading this, and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.
I did.

And guess what? I lurve all of you, too! Write me notes! I miss you.

Long time, no blog! Missed ya.

I've been tagged by the Amazing Jessica of Plushroom Soup for one of those blog meme games.

Blurgh? Nope!

Because I’ve been getting a lot of inquiries in the last few weeks about whatever happened to my blog. I took a wee break. There were injuries, illnesses, quazi-nervous breakdowns, and other things that factored in, but I think mostly I just didn’t feel like being honest or reflective for awhile, so why blog?

But I wanted to try to start writing again and this tag seemed like a good way to start. It’s my way of saying “Hi!” to those of you who’ve missed me and to introduce myself to any newbies. So, here are the rules:

* answer the questions
* replace a question that you don't like, with one by your choice
* add one more question
* tag 8 people to continue the game of tagging

What is the thing that makes you happy?
Bourbon. Besides bourbon: my dog, still lakes, snow, barren trees, quiet walks, painting, music, cheddarwurst, my friends, my favorite guy.

Coffee or tea?
Coffee. Strong coffee. In large quantities.

What’s for dinner?
Oh why am I answering this questionnaire tonight? The truth is I ate blue cheese stuffed olives, a banana and some popcorn. This isn’t typical (lies).

What was the last thing you bought?
Besides the bleach and Purell I bought at Walgreen’s yesterday to fight the Swine and my plane ticket to MN for Thanksgiving … the last actual retail purchase was the whole series of Slumber Party Massacre movies from a guy who converted them from the VHS to a DVD. Excellent.

What are you listening to right now?
I cannot stop listening to For Emma, Forever Ago. It’s been on my turntable for months. I only recently ever listened to any Regina Spektor. My brother gave me an early album and I’ve been listening to Us on the way to work every day for a week. It’s joyous. (I’m going to admit I don’t think I like most of her stuff, but what I do like, I like a lot). Oh, and the Sweater Weather 7”. So so emo.

What is your favourite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I have a dress from the Bettie Page store that I think is cute on me. I have a vintage 60s mod dress I like to wear with knee highs, a chunky knit scarf and wedges, because I think if you could define my personality in an outfit, that would be it. My most worn item, however, is a pair of aqua scrubs pants that I wear around my house pretty much constantly. I’m HOT.

What is your favourite ice cream flavour?
Ice cream makes me phlegmy. I prefer popsicles. Orange ones.

What do you think of the person(s) who tagged you?
I wish we lived in the same city so we could be buddies and make crafts and drink Old Fashioneds and play Rock band. I heart her very much.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
I could be cheesy and say Minneapolis. Because I miss people there. And I need more sex in my life. Hee hee. Seriously, though, Mount Desert Island, Maine. My favorite place on earth. I’d have an amazing Lobster Bisque and popovers at Jordan Pond House and walk around the harbor all bundled up and happy.

Which language do you want to learn?
Mandarin. Seems very useful. I’m a language geek. I wish I was more fluent in Nihongo, too

What is your favourite colour?
Blue. Grey blues, especially.

If you had £100 now, what would you spend it on?
Probably booze. Or my new tattoo.

What is your favorite animal?
Barksdale is my favorite animal. I’m also fascinated by jellyfish. And panda bears.

Describe your personal style?
Geeky, probably. I pretty much always wear dresses. I like old-fashionedy things. I like cardigans. And lots of buttons. And scarves.

What are you going to do after this?
Look for a job. Job hunting stinks. It’s not good for my intense fear of rejection. Someone told me today it takes, on average, six to 12 months to find a new job. I sincerely hope this is not true. If you are reading this and live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, I am a super witty writer, meticulous editor, and dynamo social media strategist (I use words like dynamo!). And I don’t drink nearly as much as you may think after reading this …

What are your favourite movies?
Spirited Away, The Triplets of Belville, Jeux D’enfants (Love Me If You Dare), Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom (Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall … Spring), La cité des enfants perdus (City of Lost Children), Big Fish, Edward Scissorhands, The Royal Tennebaums, Rushmore, Amelie, American Splendor, Children of the Corn

What inspires you?
Music. Fo sho. My super silly and creative friends (and virtual “friends”.) My dreams. I have weird dreams. Last night I dreamt that my great grandmother was alive and lived in this huge old mansion and she was like a corpse, but she was talking to me and she was wearing an excessive amount of bright red lipstick. She was walking around, but then I realized she was actually floating. Then she got in this big old Cruella DeVille-like car and drove away. It weirded me out, but it also made me think of a great short story idea.

What is your favourite fruit?
Apples

Do you collect something?
My mother thinks I collect fairies. This came from my days of community theater when I was constantly cast as a fairy or elf due to my size. So I have a bunch of fairies in a box in my closet. In truth, too much “stuff” makes me nervous. I guess I kind of collect scarves. And I have three old, but functional, typewriters, so I kind of collect those, too. God, I do everything half-ass.

How many hours do you sleep a day?
Who knows? I have chronic insomnia. About once a week I sleep like 11 hours. The rest of the time I toss and turn and am in and out. I’d say five-ish. I really like sleeping. I wish it happened more.

How many times do you press the snooze button before you get up?
Three to four times. Unless I actually have something to do besides just routine work. Then, I wake up before the alarm. Like clockwork.

What is your favourite smell?
Fall leaves. Also, my dog’s warm belly after he’s been sleeping in the sun. The ocean. Baking cookies. My dude. (and I think it’s just him + soap. How does he smell so good?)

What is your biggest regret?
This is a hard one. Probably it would be not pursing the science career I considered as a freshman in college. I think I would have made an excellent medical researcher. Or a surgeon. I still think about it a lot.

What are you most proud of?
I think this is supposed to be a personal thing about my accomplishments, but honestly, right now, I'm most proud of my little sister. She came through an extremely difficult phase of her life to earn her psychology degree, build a very happy family, and make a peaceful life full of love and interesting things. Life could have turned out very differently for her. I love her.

Cats or dogs?
Dogs. Cats creep me out. They remind me of Pet Semetary. And I don’t trust animals that are expected to pee and poop in the house.

What’s your biggest fashion mistake?
Let’s just say there’s a picture of me in an acid-washed jean jumper skirt (with ruffles), florescent pink t-shirt, matching tube socks and a weird hat that I hope never surfaces.

What is your guilty TV pleasure?
So You Think You Can Dance. I’ve always wanted to be a dancer. I think because my whole world revolves around words, I’m really moved by expression that doesn’t involve any words at all. Also, I look like I’m convulsing when I dance so I’m jealous.

What did you want to be when you grew up?
For a while, a dancer (see above). I actually wanted to be a writer, which is what I’ve become … not sure I still want to be that.

If you could meet any person dead or alive who would it be?
Franz Kafka.

What is your biggest dream?
I like Plushroom Soup’s answer a lot: “To live simply and well, and always be surrounded by those whom I love.” I’d like to simplify a lot. I’d like a small house with a great garden somewhere where it’s cold a lot and that’s near water. To have a job that doesn’t stress me out where I get to use my creativity. To have my dog. To have someone I love who loves me. To have a lot of time to read and listen to old soul records and drink coffee and bake things for neighbors. Nothing too crazy.

What was your favorite book when you were a child?
I loved Charles Dickens as a kid. My grandmother bought me a set of his books adapted for young readers and before first grade I had read Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol, Hard Times. I’d hide under a weeping willow in her back yard and read for hours.

If today was your last day on earth what would you be doing?
Having a lot of sex. (I couldn’t resist.) If it was really my last day, I’d eat bacon at every meal, be slightly drunk probably all day, spend it with my best friends and loved ones from AZ, OH, MN and beyond, and, hopefully have a lot of sex. Not like random sex, just a lot of it with one particular person. (Let’s be honest, I’d probably cry a lot and try to find a way to hide from the inevitable.)

If you could have any super power, what would it be?
This one gets me every time! Too many choices. I like teleportation a lot these days. Then I could see all the people I want to see without airfare.

If you joined the circus, what act would you perform?
Bearded lady.

My contribution: Why did you start your blog?

I am tagging the following people (and many apologies if you hate these!) Answer them all. Answer just one. Make up your own question. Write in "Your mom." I don't care. Just do something!

I’m Tagging:

Cleveland’s A Plum
Beauty is in the Eye of the Beer Holder
Running Fashionably Late
Your Beard is Good
Live it LOVE it
My Little Becky
Shine Out Loud
Just Another Fish in the Sea

Voguing during sex: yes or no? And ... it's Limerick Wednesday

I had a conversation about sex last night and I wanted to share it with all of you.

Because I overshare.

Next week I am planning a post about the color of my phlegm and how many times in my life I’ve had a UTI.

We were talking about the weekend and the topic of strippers came up – naturally.

Martini: Have you ever done that for a guy?

Me: What? Stripped? Well, duh. You kind of have to in order to get to the next part.

Martini: No … like a lap dance. Like a strip tease.

Me: No. No, no, no. I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands. I’d probably start voguing or something.

Uproarious laughter from Martini. Now, granted, she and I had just come from the world’s scariest workout with our friend A-to-the-izzo where a wee little man with chicken legs and a buzz cut forced us to jump up and down and punch things for an hour while shouting something about swatting flies and playing songs about “The Candyman.” Obviously, the only way to recover from said workout was a dinner of nachos and skinny girl margaritas at a nearby Mexican restaurant. We were dehydrated.

Martini: You’d start voguing???!!!

Me: Yeah, probably. (SG demonstrates amazingly sexy voguing skills.) Or doing the running man? Or just like pantomime or something. Like, “I’m stuck in the box. That’s right big boy. I’m in the box. You want me? Come and get me out of this box.”

More laughter.

Martini: Seriously. (Laughs.) You wouldn’t know what to do with your hands?? Oh my god. Light bulb moment. I know why you’ve been single for so long. We can fix this.

Me: Really? I mean, you don’t vogue during sex? Really?

(Actual snorts and hands slamming on the bar, causing the waitress to look over at us and consider, for a moment, stopping service.)

Me: Seriously, though, I know what to do with my hands during sex … I think. (It’s jazz hands, right? Jazz hands?) But when the spotlight is all on me, like if he was just sitting back looking at me expectantly; I’d probably go for the BJ before the strip tease. I can shake the booty, but what do you do with your hands?!?

It’s like people who go “running” down major thoroughfares. Why do they do that? They look stupid. Why? Their hands. They’re just kind of awkwardly flapping at their sides.

I warned you earlier I dance a lot like Elaine from Seinfeld. I don’t think those moves should ever be brought out in the bedroom. Ever. Well, maybe …

In all seriousness, this particular point of sexiliciousness has been a sore spot, a sort of kryptonite in my superhero-like self confidence, for some time. Maybe I should take a class. Or put a stripper pole in my bedroom. Or bring back voguing.

Or maybe not everyone is meant to have the strip tease in their arsenal. Maybe some people are better off just tying those hands to the bedpost than trying to bust out a H.O.T version of the Tootsie Roll.

What do you all think? What makes you feel awkward? Do you try or just give it a pass? Discuss.

P.S. I don’t think I need to remind you that it’s Limerick Wednesday, as it has gained unprecedented popularity. Maybe something about voguing is in order …

Are we breaking up? And FRF comes a day early. Happy August.

For those of you who know me, you’ll know this news is huge.

For those of you who don’t, you may be able to relate.

I’m in the middle of a break up.

It’s really hard. I’m losing sleep. I’m eating too much junk food. I can’t seem to think about much else.

I have conversations with myself on the train on the way to work. I snap at people for no reason and then run to the bathroom, lock myself in the last stall and cry and cry.

Of course, I’m talking about my girlfriend, Hulu.

It’s not that I don’t love her, it’s just that I’ve realized she’s really not good for me.

I’ve been spending all of my time with her, losing track of my other friends.

I’ve found myself saying things like, “That was just like last week when I was on that canoe with Sawyer, Kate, and an unconscious Karl and Sawyer was singing while he and Kate rowed back to the main island and Kate was trying to convince Sawyer to turn around so we could rescue Jack but Sawyer said it was too dangerous because the Others would kill us …” and then realizing that never really happened to me.

When you date someone too long there’s always the danger that you will keep dating them out of habit, or nostalgia, or something, instead of doing it because it actually brings joy or meaning to your life.

I had a jarring realization that this was the kind of relationship H. and I had begun to have earlier this week when I found myself still wide awake, laptop on lap, at 2 a.m. watching episodes of My So Called Life.

That show is terrible. Claire Danes = enormous F. And yet, there I sat, episode after episode, taking it all in. Because I could. Because Hulu was there. Because it was safe and familiar.

It was the last straw. I may never get tired of listening to Dennis read Charlie’s campaign speech ("Hello fellow American. This you should vote me. I leave power. Good. Thank you, thank you. If you vote me, I'm hot. What? Taxes, they'll be lower... son. The Democratic vote is the right thing to do Philadelphia, so do.")

I also may never get tired of Kevin saying eating Pizza by Alfredo is like eating a hot circle of garbage. But I cannot spend vital moments of my life listening to Angela Chase whine through that terrible nose about how terribly terrible it is to be a teenager. And I have no one to blame but Winnie Holzman. I mean my mother. I mean, me.

I’m 30. The clock is ticking.

No more. I’m vowing to quit her. I don’t know if I can do it. I’ll need all of your support. Hold me accountable. Or just hold me.

Remind me that while I may know all of the words to the song about Jayne from the episode of Firefly where the crew returns to a planet and discovers that he's become a local folk legend, I have not seen a single episode of Entourage or Mad Men. And you have to pay for that shiz.

I know I can do this. I must be strong.

Tomorrow is Frightened Rabbit Friday, but I will be on an air-o-plane flying to see VC and many other wonderful humans. I hope to have stories to share. Ones that do not involve me falling down, crying in a cab or making new stripper friends. Nothing wrong with stripper friends. It’s just that I have so many and I’d like to broaden my horizons. Maybe get me a token accountant buddy or something.

So in honor of both my break up and FRF, I present you with this loverly video. Enjoy! I’m going back to my bathroom stall to cry it out.




(Picture Hulu with its back turned toward me and me reaching out to her and whispering “Oh Hulu …” It will make it so much better.)

My mom is on Facebook. It is awful. Let me explain ...

Anyone who knows me knows that my mother has driven me both figuratively and literally crazy over the years.

She’s my mother. I love her. But she’s insane.

Now she’s on Facebook. One of the few places I thought I would be safe from her infiltrating my life.

A few days ago I saw her leave a message for a girl that was my very best friend in the whole wide world all through middle school, junior high, and high school.

We were like sisters. We dressed alike, dyed our hair weird colors together, pierced each others ears using safety pins and ice cubes.

That girl then proceeded to date the one boy everyone in the world knew I had a crush on for my whole life, and then slept with my very first real boyfriend, who I dated after I graduated and who I gave my most precious gift to. My flower, if you will. (I’m talking about my virginity, people.)

I uninvited that girl from my life party after about a year of her hurting me and doing things that most people think are pretty unforgiveable.

So what does my mom do? Friends her on Facebook and sends her love-dovey messages about how much she misses her.

Now they’re suddenly FB Besties, messaging back and forth.

What the what?

Then I see her leave a similar message for my ex-boyfriend.

“Hey sweetie. Miss you so much. SG’s sister will be in town soon and we’d love if you could photograph her and the baby.”

Huh?

This is the woman who, when I practically divorced this guy three years ago (I say “divorce” because we had been dating nearly six years and had a house together and two dogs,) and I came to her crying and really distraught about the whole decision said, “Poor Ex Boyfriend. He must be so upset.”

Now they’re FB Friends Forever, too. I’m waiting for pictures of them wearing each other’s half heart necklaces.

And the kicker of this whole thing is that she actually posted a photo album called “My Life” and had about 20 pictures in it. My sister was there, my brother, his girlfriend, some 28-year-old girl named Bobbi Jo Sue Ann Mary or something from Wisconsin who she used to work with. Guess who wasn’t there? Me!

Some people worry about being FB friends with guys they’re dating, or friends from high school, or guys they used to date, etc. My worst FB nightmare has turned out to be my very own mother.

There are people in this world you will never quite understand. Never quite get along with, no matter how hard you try. It’s sad when one of those people is the same person who pushed you out of her vag 30 years ago. You’d think there’d be an assumed closeness that went with all of that.

I’ve been trying for a very long time to have the kind of bond with my mom that I see some of my girlfriends have with theirs. Going shopping. Getting pedis. Scrapbooking. But I don’t like those things. Well, pedis are aight.

The thing is, my mom likes Aerosmith. This just about sums up why we’re not friends. Kidding. Kind of.

Maybe some of us are just not meant to be friends with our parents. I gave it the college try. After 30 years, I think it’s OK to stop trying so hard. I’m not saying I want to be estranged or anything, I just want to not feel bad about the fact that I don’t particularly like spending a lot of time with her and I don’t want her to know the details of my life.

Is that POSSIBLE?!?

Feedback. Do any of you have rough relationships with the ’rents. How do you deal?

(P.S. Just a reminder: It is Limerick Wednesday. Keep ‘em coming  Would haikus be easier? I rock the haiku.)