Hello hello! I’m back. It seems like forever since I last blogged. To be honest I’ve been boring lately and haven’t really had any hot, exciting events occur in my life…that is until last Friday when on an average ordinary work day I met Michelle, who is not so average or ordinary. Michelle came in to the day spa for some pampering and grooming. Being that I’m the brazilian queen I was lucky enough to get Michelle as my client! I never usually have any issues with such a personal waxing treatment, but this one was amazing. Right away Michelle and I clicked. She was incredible…INCREDIBLE!

I learned that Michelle is an established writer and was a guest at the resort that I work at. Then she told me about this group of writers that she’s touring with. I was fascinated…and even more fascinated that she invited me to see her groups performance the next day.

I was giddy with excitement leading up to the performance. It was on the local college campus in a cozy theater. I got there early and found my seat, unfortunately I was alone due to a timing mishap with my a friend that I had invited. Right away Michelle spots me. “Heeeey!” we hug and then she calls across the theater to a really cute girl in a stylish dress “this is Mimi, the girl I told you about” the stylish girl perks up “oooooohhhh you’re the girl from the hotel!” another person from the group says “we all heard about your bonding time with Michelle’s legs in the air” by this time all eyes are on me…no one else here knows that I wax vaginas for a living. It’s about this time that I notice the two girls in front of me playing tonsil hockey. Then I look around…the theater is full of the cutest lesbians I’ve ever seen…omg I’m the only straight person in here! Suddenly I feel like I look straight…whatever that means, but thats how I feel. Maybe Michelle’s story of us bonding with her legs in the air might help me blend in.

While trying to blend in I meet an amazing man named Silas…amazing can easily be replaced with hot, smart, charming, stylish. The show starts and I’m trying to figure out how this man fits into a lesbian themed show. And it hits me…he’s gay. Friggin figures, all the cute, stylish ones are gay men! Damn it…yes yes I’m married but damn it anyway! haha

The show is awesome. I really enjoyed it and felt inspired by it (just that morning I received a rejection letter from a poetry publisher). The show is near over and then its time for Silas to share his work. As I sat there listening and really enjoying his story I felt the room start to spin first slowly then faster and faster. I heard the words, but couldn’t articulate it…the beautiful Silas was born a woman. I have absolutely no problem with that, I’m pretty open-minded and excepting. What shocked me was that I had NO idea. NONE. Impressive.

The show was great, my new-found friends were amazing and Michelle, well I can’t find words to describe how awesome she is. When I was a kid I wanted to be adopted by the Brady Bunch, now I want Michelle and her rad friends to adopt me.

Later that night when I got home I wrote a single question in my journal: Am I gay?



Ahhhhhh… Hello, lovely blog. It’s nice to see you again. I hope you remember me; it certainly has been a while.

So, that must mean a lot has happened during my hiatus?
Ummmm… Sadly, nope.

Here are things that I have failed to do in the month since my last post:

  • Get a job
  • Lose a single pound
  • Learn a new language
  • Find a place to get a decent Greek salad
  • Finish a drawing that I promised to my BFF’s husband
  • Buy The Man a birthday gift
  • Think of a topic on which to compose a new post for this blog

Needless to say, I haven’t been as productive as I probably should have been. But, that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been busy. And, I promise, I’ve thought about this silly blog a zillion times– but, could never seem to think of anything to write about. (See, I told you I am no writer).

Today is really no different. I don’t have any specific, entertaining subject going through my mind. But, the blog-neglect has reached an unacceptable point. I have officially passed the point of a piece-of-shit-blog-partner. So, this is it… I have a couple of hours of alone time while The Kid and The Man have ventured out to the cinema. My silence stops here. And in its place: Nonsensical-stream-of-conscious-like babble.

(Is that really any different than my other posts? Likely, not).

I am happy to report that my little Bella pup is as amazing as ever. Having my crying son tell her previous owners to shove it was probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in a pretty long time. I absolutely LOVE her. It’s really kind of scary. Just this week, she had surgery so that she can never be a mommy and I have been nursing her back to health.  Oh, and in addition to having her woman parts snatched out of her tummy, she had to have four baby teeth yanked from her gums, thanks to a cruel joke played by the corresponding adult teeth that decided to grow in right behind their normal places. So, my poor baby has been a wreck– from the rooter to the tooter. She can’t run, or jump, or climb the (3 flights of) stairs in our house, or chew her food. Poor kid. I’ve been carrying her around and feeding her squishy baby food, a painstaking routine that has to go on for a full two weeks, or else risk her intestines falling out onto the floor. (Which I thought was just something the vet told all the puppy parents to scare them until I saw a golden retriever rushed into the office by her owner– who was balancing her guts on some sort of dinner plate. Yum).

Not having a job has still been weighing heavy on my heart. I really, really need to be engaged in something professional. School alone is just not cutting it. My classes this term have been too easy, not nearly the kind of mental challenge that I need– especially at this point in my life. My mind has been filled with all kinds of psychotic thoughts… Having to live on the street (because I would NEVER go back to live with my mother), applying to sell cell phones at a kiosk in the mall (though now I’m even doubting my ability to even get that job), working alongside of The Man in his business…. Oh, God. I’ve really hit new lows in the past month.

Which brings me to a recent conversation that I had with my BFF, Mimi. We were lamenting about how things have been going in our lives lately. It seems that both of us are missing something pretty big in our respective existences and said vacancies are wreaking havoc on our mental states. After fantasizing about taking advantage of a great honeymoon travel package to a fabulous resort together (posing to be newly weds for an all-inclusive package at great deal– is that such a bad thing? I mean, c’mon… times are tough!), we started talking about jobs that we could do from home to make some good money.

Not far into our conversation, we seemed to hit the work-from-home jackpot. No, not one of those data entry or survey-completing scams– I mean something pretty large and in charge.

Phone sex vixens!
Yea, sure, why not?
Seriously, stop laughing. This could be it.

There’d be no actual cheating on our significant others, no chance of acquiring some disgusting disease, no need to invest in a new wardrobe of kinky gear (which actually might be a tax write off, though), no need to touch any truck drivers’ hairy backs (or nether regions)… Hell, we wouldn’t even have to get dressed or leave the house. Laundry wouldn’t stack up. Dinner wouldn’t be late. The job just screams, “multi-task!”

But, then I got to thinking… There had to be a hole in the donut.
There had to be a downside to chatting up sweaty, hot-and-bothered guys playing Dungeons and Dragons as they wipe the Cheeto dust from their chubby fingers across their dirty wife beaters in their mothers’ basements.

Every employee has a manager, right? So then, would our sexy calls monitored for quality assurance? Would we receive feedback about our strengths and weaknesses– like at least in a bi-annual performance review-like fashion? Those session would have the chance of being just a bit awkward. Is it possible to be sexually harassed while doing this job? Certainly, while receiving instruction, coaching, and feedback from your boss, the lines would be pretty blurry at best. Would we have to mention the caller’s name a certain number of times? Would we have a quota? How might our call stats be analyzed? Could we put callers on hold? What if my dog barks in the background? Or my doorbell rings? Since just about anything is considered “sexy” by someone somewhere, is it even possible to get fired? Can we answer and carry on each call in a different fake accent?

So, needless to say, there are still many rocks to be overturned.
Or maybe I’ve just spent far too many of my years in corporate America.

I need some answers.


It’s been a long time since my last post. Life has gotten really really crazy. I have the day off today so I’m catching up on some of the things that need attention, like shaving my legs, doing the dishes and this blog.

Work has been so crazy busy because two estheticians quit! So I’m trying to accommodate as many clients as I can. This is both great and annoying, the money is great, but I’m constantly running behind and usually get home late into the night. This has forced sweet hubby to start cooking dinner on the nights that I work…he has NEVER ever cooked dinner. As much as I hate sloppy joes and frozen lasagna I will not complain, in fact this array of odd American cuisine has made me want to be a sweeter girl to my husband! AND spend less time chatting up Mr. X, which I think is a really good thing.

So aside from being knee-deep in vagina waxing (gross) I’m also planning a gigantic SWEET SIXTEEN party for my daughter!!!! This party has ballooned out of control. It started off as an innocent gathering for 50 of her closest friends, it’s now turned into hundreds of people, a really cool band called Best Coast, food, bartender, DJ ummmm…lets see what else? Uhhhhh…oh and her grandparents are surprising her with a brand spanking new black Mini Cooper with all the stuff it can come with! WTF I got a sea-foam green Toyota Tercel, no air conditioner no radio when I turned 16….WTF! Should I even mention that her invites are nicer than some wedding invitations?

Love Mimi

My four-year old son is a clown. He  has wild in his eyes, he is sweet and cuddly and always saying funny and sometimes naughty things. I wonder if his penis fascination is normal?

  • Mom where’s your wiener?
  • Every day my wiener gets bigger and bigger.
  • While my husband was dropping him off at preschool one morning our sweet boy made this announcement in front of the other mommies and daddies “My dad has a huge weenie”
  • My son: Grandpa said SHIT   Me: don’t say that word, its naughty  My son: I didn’t say shit, grandpa said shit, but I wont say shit anymore Me: Uhhhh ok then
  • One day while he and I were playing with Play-Doh I say: I love working at this candy factory! He says: I work there too!!! Maybe you’ve seen me there…I’m the guy with the beard.
  • One day while snuggling I was telling him how I love his feet, his eyes, his hands. He then asks “do you love my weenie”

But, to be honest, I really wanted to give it back.
(My yesterday Tuesday that is).

If you have read my posts, you may have learned that I am FAR from a morning person. In fact, I may be the most un-morning person in the history of persons. Even still, I should have known that yesterday was going to shape up to be a hell day.

After my three hour evening nap, I went through my usual hysterics and finally pulled myself out of bed, got my son up and dressed, and moved into the kitchen to cook breakfast. I took the puppy out for a walk while my son was eating and then the three of us hopped in the car and headed off to school. None of this is groundbreaking. There was nothing to be alarmed about– YET.

After I got back from taking my son to school, I decided to do some work in my office. It’s a cozy space in an upstairs loft that has great natural light and stays much warmer than the rest of my place. And it was FREEZING in the house– 61 degrees, to be exact. I could’ve turned the furnace on, but it makes the house so darn dry. I grabbed a sweatshirt instead and headed upstairs to cross some things off of my to-do list. After a few hours of working, it was time to go downstairs and take a shower. So, I gathered my cell phone, some papers, and a glass of water off of my desk and began walking down the stairs.

All morning, my “bad” foot was giving me lots of problems. (I have one “bad” foot that causes me a lot of pain and one “good” foot that seems to behave most of the time). After making it down about two stairs, I tried to take a step and my “bad” foot decided it was a good time to completely fail me. This sent me tumbling down the rest of the stairs.

Yes. I fell down the stairs.
All 14 of them.

As I was falling, I was obsessed about holding onto my cell phone (there was no way I could let that break) and the glass of water I was carrying (I had flash visions of slashing myself on pieces of broken glass, which would have meant blood on the rug and I couldn’t have had that either). I am happy to say that my grip didn’t falter and neither my phone nor the glass fell out of my hands. The flip side to that is that I had no hands to brace or catch myself– or to slow my fall.

So, tons of rug-rash and bruises for me.
And, although I managed to keep my grasp on the glass, the water in it wasn’t so agreeable. It totally rained on me.

I was at the bottom of my staircase…

I couldn’t get up right away. Partially because my feet and legs were temporarily paralyzed from the fall and partially because I was laughing so fucking hard. (I don’t know what it is, but I can’t contain myself when a grown person falls– including myself). I was laughing so hard that I was wheezing and crying. I couldn’t breathe.

So, I stayed there. At the bottom of the stairs. Wet and freezing. Injured and chortling.
And, to add insult to injury, Bella was licking all of the water off of my face.
Still, none of this commotion was enough to wake The Man from his cozy slumber.

As I was soaking my sore bones in a hot bath, I resolved to not let my fall get the best of me. I decided to press the mental reset button. But, the sound of my phone through the door was really fucking with my attempt to be “zen.”

When I crawled out of the bath and looked at my phone, I found a series of text messages from an unfamiliar number. After reading them, my heart dropped. I felt like someone cut out my kidney. The family that sold us the puppy was having some second thoughts. They wanted to buy Bella back!

After posting an ad in the paper. After a series of correspondences. After coming over to “inspect” my place and meet my family. After the “trial period.” After cashing my check. After she had been living with us for a week and a half and carved a special place in our hearts.

They fucking wanted her back?

I knew I wasn’t in a situation where I had to even consider giving her back, but it really put me in a terrible spot. We had grown attached to Bella. My son has honestly never been happier. Even The Man is keen on her. Still, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to be a (total) bitch. The woman’s husband called me and told me that he had never seen his wife so depressed and only wanted to make her happy again.

Yea. Noble. Romantic. Super sweet.
But, at the expense of my family’s feelings.

And too late, Fuckface.

Even so, I told him that I needed to talk things over with my son and that we would call him after sleeping on the idea. And, when I did tell my son what was going on, he looked like I just told him that I was going to die in three days. His eyes welled up with tears and he dug deep down to that manly place that holds them back. With a crackly voice, he said, “I guess we need to give her back to them, mom. They had her first– and when someone has something first, they should get it back, right?”

Wait a minute! Hell no!
What were these people trying to do to us???

I was sitting there in front of a 9 year old boy with a broken heart. I was totally dazed. (And my fucking ribs were killing me!) I knew then that we had to keep the puppy. She was ours. Fair and square.

The whole day, it weighed heavily on my heart and mind. I have no idea why, but it really did. On top of it all, The Man had a terrible day at work. I know that most people probably feel this way, but the people he works with are co-mayors of Assholeville. Seriously. And, since The Man works from home, his bad days are literally my bad days because I can hear their idiotic exchanges over the speakerphone.

Talk about needing a drink.
And some fresh air.
So, I took a trip to my favorite liquor store. (This place is like a liquor palace… Think Wal-Mart square footage with nothing but beer, wine, liquor, and all the fixins).

As soon as I walked in, I immediately felt better.
Rick Astley was singing \”Never gonna give you up…\” over the loudspeaker.

Rick knows!

It was a sign!
Bella was really ours. The satellite radio gods agreed.

So, I made good on my promise to call the woman’s husband back today and tell him our decision. Well, sorta… Instead of telling him myself, I made my son call him, pretending to cry while telling him how much his feelings were hurt and how Bella was part of our family now. All I can do is hope that our phone call made him feel as shitty as his made me feel.




Blissful mommies. This is what I’m seeing as I enter the play group that I’m attending with my 4-year-old. They love every moment of mommy life. They love their mommy uniforms of no ass high wasted tapered jeans and tee shirts with random smears of motherhood, snot, food, play-doh. They look run down, tired as hell. Maybe they need vitamins, but I’m not sure any of this bothers them. They all seem happy. Happy that they have no time for themselves, happy that their sex life has been dead for the last four or five years due to co sleeping with the children. They are…blissful.

I settle into the circle and let my son loose to run like a maniac on crack. The other mommies eye me up and down. I’m not a fashionista, but I do have a good amount of make up on ( it takes all that make up to give me that fresh young look) Soon enough I’m listening to all the mommies gab about Johnny’s ear infection, or Suzie’s lactose intolerance. I yawn a big huge yawn. April, mommy of Cadence is decked out in a tee-shirt covered in her childs multicolored hand prints. It was probably a homemade mother’s day gift. She see’s my yawn and in a very concerned tone asks if I was up all night with my child. How sweet of April, “No April, I was up all night watching porn, snorting cocaine off a strippers belly and getting rammed up the ass by the neighbor’s husband…his wife filmed the whole thing.” Imagine April’s face if I would have said that. The reality is I’m bored as hell listening to the blissful mommies who don’t miss sex, who don’t care what they look like, who have no other reason to exist except for their families.

Eeeeeeh, I’m sounding like a terrible person. I see it this way. My kids are great. I ADORE them. I love spending time with them and wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, BUT I like me too. I miss me!!!! I miss sex! I miss that cute guy who used to take me out and make me laugh…oh his name is husband! What’s wrong with me? Why am I not like the blissful mommies? I’d hate it if I was them, but I felt annoyingly odd sitting with them. I don’t think I’m better than them…just different. Perhaps they are better than me? And why am I all of a sudden this sex hungry Mrs. Robinson????????

Luckily the play date ends and as the other mommies head off with their kids for chicken nuggets and juice, my son and I are off to have some yummy raw vegan grub!…neither one of us are vegan. lol

I can’t be the only mom who feels this way…why are women so afraid to talk openly about this? Someone needs to write a book about this very subject!

XOX Mimi!

So, we are already five days into our puppy trial!

Man, time flies!!

I am happy to report that:
1.) The puppy, Miss Bella, is still alive– and not even injured or sick or anything
2.) The Man decided to stay (so far)
3.) My floors have remained clean

This is a big step for our family.
We can be lazy sometimes— or I guess just too intently tuned in to our own lives, which means that we all just kind of “fend for ourselves” on most days. I really thought that the puppy might get lost in our shadows. This has not been the case! Bella has been front and center, probably because she demands our attention.

In just the past five days, puppy girl and I have already grown so close. She literally goes EVERYWHERE with me. And when we are home, it’s like she’s connected to me. We have play time (she’s insanely hyper). We have work time (she insists on laying on my lap when I type and do homework). We have pretty time (I wash her up in the sink and make her fur pretty with my leave in conditioner). We have walk time (I’ve seen whole parts of my neighborhood that I never knew existed). We even have drinkie time (when I enjoy a gin or two and let her chase me through the snow).

Also, between us…
The Man actually likes Bella. Despite his tantrums about not liking pets, I’ve caught him playing and snuggling with her.

But, seriously, how could you not love this little chick??

Bella Bean!

Good times so far, but there are still four days left.
Sorry so short, but I’m off to take Bella Bean for a run around the block.
(The block on which I live, but oddly enough I never saw the other side until I had the puppy to walk!)




I have a really cute pink and purple toothbrush. I took my time picking it out, making sure the bristles were just the right firmness. I also try to make sure that my toothbrush doesn’t resemble my husbands,  just so no one gets confused. I love brushing my teeth. It’s my time out. A mini break from everything going on around me.

So this morning I’m brushing away, now that I look back I’m wondering if I was standing there with my eyes closed while I brushed. I was zoning out just brushing, paying close attention to the gum line like my dentist told me to do. As I get towards the end of my brushing bliss I stare into the mirror asking myself…Why in the hell is my toothbrush blue!!!!?????!!!!!

Effing crap! I used my husband’s toothbrush! Gross! Yuck! Eeeeeeeeewwwwwww. So this got me to thinking…why am I so grossed out. Of course it’s gross that for obvious reasons, but I’ve kissed him and uh…done other things with him.

Eeeks I think this is TMI!


Happy Monday!

Today I started my Monday morning off with a margarita at 8 am. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a drink this early? It was weird…everyone left for the day and I happen to have the day off. Conveniently I had a bottle of that ready to serve margarita beverage in the fridge. I don’t know what came over me but I thought it would make a good breakfast. Oh I had a blueberry scone with it so it was a balance breakfast! I wont even lie and say I sipped it through out the morning, I chugged it. While I vacuumed the living room and dusted the furniture I guzzled my liquid heaven. I felt so Mrs. Robinson all I needed was the young college freshman boy to come over so I could seduce him. This is why soccer moms become alcoholics and pill poppers. It makes everything happy and functional in a very dysfunctional way.

Here’s the kicker to my day, keep in mind its only 11 am…my husband just called me to let me know that he totally forget that his mom (my tolerated mother in law) is coming out to visit for the week!!!!!!!!!!! SHIT.

Alcoholicly Yours,


What changes in a man’s life when he starts a full-time job? I’m sitting here blank…nothing really. He dresses himself for work, stops and gets a coffee, works, comes home for dinner (a meal that was most likely prepared by his wife) zones out in front of the tele then off to bed. (He’ll probably be too tired for sex because his work day was stressful.)

What changes in a woman’s life when she starts a full-time job? My mind is spinning…She’ll take care of the kids needs in the morning, breakfast, making lunches, helping the kids get dressed, sends everyone off for school, then she will probably speed rush to get herself ready. If she’s lucky that day then she’ll throw something in the crock pot for dinner that night, but that most likely wont happen. She wont grab a coffee because there is no time for that, she’ll work her day, rush home, get dinner ready while husband is playing Gran Turismo on the PlayStation occasionally calling from the other room to her “are you in a bad mood?” what the woman will want to say is “what the fuck do you think?” But instead she will say NOOOOO through gritted teeth and he will go on oblivious to all the shit she does for him. After serving and eating dinner she will do the dishes, sometimes the husband takes a break from the Playstation to help her dry the dishes, after that she will bath one child and make sure the other child has gotten homework done and is emotionally in tact from her hectic high school day. While the husband zones out in front of the tele she puts children to bed and then ahhhhhhhhhhh some time to herself. She’ll chat with Mr X. and Gigi for a bit then off to bed to do it all over again the next day.

There has to be more to life than this.



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