tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24661274478471257132024-03-07T20:35:50.583-08:00Former Welfare Mom's Guide To WorldlinessRecently filled out a form about myself...so it went like this: I laugh at funerals, so I don't cry...I have been known to point and laugh when someone falls down-but ONLY after I know they aren't hurt...I love children-but cant eat a whole one...I like long walks on the beach--mainly because bodies do better in deep water......I want 2 believe that unicorns are real--so that I can train one 2 charge."...I think I did good. SO this Blog will have a lot of this kind of nonsense-ENJOYCharazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-71417479616975200082012-06-26T10:41:00.002-07:002012-06-26T10:41:51.923-07:00O-P--O-S-S-U-M not Oh-F-*-C-K-A-O-P--O-S-S-U-MMy quickest route to work from my new home is heading over the river, a right at Cicott Park and following the river bottoms to Greenhill, and then finally a right on 26 into Montmorenci and onto 52W. I've noticed that while taking this way, it opens up many opportunities to see some of Gods majestic creatures...whether that be deer that jump out in front of your vehicle...snapping turtles that are not ninja-like at all...snakes that make a satisfactory crunch when you run them over. Yep...I see it all. Every once in a while I can scare the crap out of a group of snobbish bicycle riders that dominate the center of the road--well...because you know, they are the only humans who can wear spandex and NOT end up on "What Not To Wear".<br />
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However, by taking this route-- I am at the mercy of the cellular Gods to see if I will have service. So if I have any car issues or need to make an emergency call-- I'm screwed. I am always listening for the tell-tale sign of the wobbling tire...or smoke rising from my hood. Let's face it--I don't drive the nicest vehicles. I have looked and trudged through lots on a Saturday--tolerating cheesy salesmen (my Dad was one, I'm allowed to say that). But I just can't wrap my head around making those payments. My cars run, and when I'm lucky--everything works on them.<br />
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So today the Nissan and I are trucking through Greenhill--such a sleepy little town? Is it a real town? I'm not sure...all I know is they have one stop sign and I never see anyone moving outside their homes. The Nissan is blasting me with glorious cold air --see the Kevorkian mobile decided that air conditioning was a luxury I could learn to live without. Ummmm no, I'm a chubby ginger-not happening. Anyways...air going, radio cutting in and out (the antennae was ripped off at some point 5-7yrs ago-I think there is some other random metal stick shoved in its place. On a good day we can pick up Z96--or about 15 Christian channels, that seem to only come in clear.....andddd noooo I'm not taking that as a sign, so shut it.) and I feel a slight wobble in the front end.<br />
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I pull off to the side of the road into a grassy ditch area and get out to stare at my tires. I am one of those people that think my tires are flat CONSTANTLY. They always look on the edge of just deflating and leaving me stranded. So I am staring trying to convince myself that 'noooo the tires are fine Charisma--there is no way they are going to fly off your car as your going 60mph down 52W--and you will crash in a fiery heap...nope not gonna happen.'....gotta ask...am I the only one who's voice in their head is just as paranoid and neurotic as their real voice?<br />
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So I make the final decision that the tires are ok, and I go to walk back around the front of my car--and I see something out of the corner of my eye. Perched right next to my foot...enjoying some grass in the sunlight. My eyes say "awww little white kitten touching my flip flop.." butttttt my brain registers what it really is...and its a little white opossum touching my flip flop. I want to take a minute and apologize to anyone who may have had their windows open in Greenhill this morning--I am not even sure what tongues I was talking in...but it went something like "OH F*CK THATS A F*CK'N OPOSSUM-SON OF A B*TCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and then I screamed...and then I punted it.<br />
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Here's the deal folks...when you are going to have to kick ass and fight for your life against wild animals--you may want to wear shoes, not flip flops. My right flip flop went airborne along with the opossum, and landed in the cornfield. I am now standing next to my car, with one leg lifted and no flip flop, doing the heebie jeebie dance--and muttering something like "it touched my foot, it touched my foot" over and over. Frik....I gotta go into the cornfield and find my flip flop--and NOT the opossum. :(<br />
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I tip toe and flip--with no flop on the other side into the field --cussing the whole time--looking for my BLACK flip flop. A big F*U to the makers of the wonderful movie "Children Of The Corn" ...I swore everytime I turned my head to the left or right I was going to come across some inbred killer child with the name Zedekiah. I see my flip flop however many yards into the field--and the damn opossum laying there.<br />
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Now...anyone who has read my history with lifeless animals already knows that damn thing is not dead (see post about deer -_-). So after learning that valuable lesson, I simply pluck my flip flop up and leave that devil-rat to lay there and die. And ok ok....it was a baby. But it doesn't change the fact that they are disgusting and need to be exterminated. I put my flip flop on and haul ass out of the field!<br />
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I am running out of the field and of course before I can slow my fat ass down I run straight out of the field and onto the road in front of a Culligan truck. I would rather have a sex tape released online then have anyone see me run in flip flops...picture a jiggling Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame. I have pretty much used up my allotment of oxygen for that little jog out of my death trap...so there I am, hyperventilating on the side of the road, kinda needing to tinkle and in front of the Culligan man.<br />
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He pulls over and ask if I need any help...the look on his face is saying 'please God do not make me let this woman in my truck'...and I try to be all cool and I say "Ohhh no, I was just checking out the front end of my car. Its cool. Thanks."..............<br />
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He starts to roll away and points behind me and says "Well whatever you were doing in the corn with that baby opossum is your business, I think they are disgusting-have a good day!!!". I look down and the damn baby opossum is sitting by my damn foot and had apparently came running after me.<br />
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I left him/her on the side of the road...I even fought the urge not to kinda swerve as I drove away. They aren't so bad after all...<br />
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...................ok....who am I kidding, I kicked that nasty ass thing again into the field and hopped into my car. P.S. ....and yes...I am sitting at my desk with one damn flip flop :(<br />
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New Rule: Keep ass-kickin shoes in the vehicles at all times.Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-88155889387294668842012-04-26T08:14:00.000-07:002012-04-26T08:14:16.415-07:00CAPTAINS LOG 01/26/2010 Old People Hate Me<b>RE-MIX FROM FACEBOOK...CAPTAINS LOG SERIES 01/26/2010 :)</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">My day started like any other...it started with the song "I Like Big Butts" blaring into my ear. My cell phone has decided that when it is charging it flips back and forth between vibrate and my ring tone...So at any time during the night I could be vibrated...or I can get jiggy wit' it.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">So at approx 6:45am, the cell phone goes off and at that same time...my son--also known as Baby Huey--hurtles himself down the stairs, and is saying as he walks past my bed: "Hey--I have to be at the school at 7:30am today--ok?". Friggin awesome...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I trudge into Sophie's room--the whole time doing the "Pee Pee" dance, because Huey charged in to the bathroom before I could relieve my child-bearing bladder...Sophie is sprawled out like a crime scene victim in her bed...I flip the light on and say "Hey--Bubby has to be at school early, you need to hustle!"....she doesn’t even open her eyes... but instead she growls..."Momma...you said there would be a 2hr delay."...I advise her that I was wrong (ggrrr) and that she needs to get her scrawny ass moving...she then says "Call the school and tell them we need a delay, they will listen to you because your scary." Ok...thanks daughter...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I finally handle my business in the bathroom, and send Huey out to start the car...I am currently driving the NISSAN!--(say it like you are yelling GODZILLA!)....the NISSAN! is held together with duct tape and prayers...however...since the Kevorkian mobile decided that overdrive was just too stressful to go into, and may need a new transmission. So Huey goes out and about 5min later he comes in and says "The car won’t start."...I stare at him...its 7:21am...he repeats himself...I then say--"what did it sound like?"---side note: I have no friggin clue why I asked him this--I’m not a mechanic...but for some reason I thought I could hear his interpretation of the sounds the NISSAN! was making--and miraculously diagnosis the problem.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Huey takes his hand and acts like he is starting the car (I guess that is how he was going to be able to get into character)...and he sputters and grunts and does something like "Uuuu--uuuu--uuu". Yeh...no clue what that means. I throw him the keys to the van and tell him "ok...start the Kevorkian mobile, and lets roll out." The whole time I am in a panic, now...what did Willie tell me about the van not acting right in reverse?...We load up, and I shift it into reverse...no problems...I'm feeling like its going to be ok...So I drop off various kids to 2 different locations and head home...Willie will be home by then and can make the NISSAN! all better.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Willie comes home, and I tell him everything--he goes out and the frickin car starts...of course I'm an idiot, and damn my uterus for not allowing me to understand an engine...thank God it can find socks, lost keys and safety pins--since it doubles as a homing device for the family unit.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I leave, go to the IGA gas station--freeze my ta-tas off pumping gas...get my NECTAR OF THE GODS and head out...as soon as I get over the bridge at 55--heading towards Pine Village...a rusty old truck with an old man driving it, pulls out on front of me. I of course curse at him...but settle into a slow pace behind him and wait it out until I can pass. Welp--for anyone that drives that road--it ummm gets slick...so passing was not an option...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I follow his old ass to Pine Village, and I had already decided that today called for a donut or some kind of sugary lard based treat...he pulls in to the store when I do. I get out...he gets out... he has a cane and I feel kinda bad for all the names I called him while following him into town. We are both deciding on what treat to get, that will kill us fastest---and I go to walk up and I will be damned if he doesn’t cut in front of me...I take a step back...I mean, who am I to be mean to an old man right? I was raised right damnit...So I wait...and he counts out $0.89 in nickels and pennies to the guy behind the counter. Ok...so I may have been thinking about just kicking him for a minute--I CAN ADMIT THAT.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I leave, and since he has such a great head start on me---which even now I can’t figure out how his old ass got to his truck so fast as slippery as it was...but anyways...SURE enough--I am behind him again...heading towards West Lafayette. BIGGG SSSIIIGGHHH....</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Now...this is where the story takes a turn...and I know you have all been waiting patiently for it...I get behind him and I was kinda close behind him--BECAUSE I was getting ready to pass him...and all of a sudden he slams on his brakes! I panic and slam on mine--we are now both sideways in the middle of the highway. I get out of my car, and slop thru the mush and snow to make sure our cars did not touch---and apparently he is a spry old man because he was out of his car as well.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I walk up to him and say "did an animal jump out? Are you ok?"...it’s natural for me to assume an animal jumps out--well...you all know why...anyways... he has his cane and looks at me and says "I slammed on my god-damn brakes to get you off my ass!!"....I would have loved to have seen my face...I’m sure it was one of "hey there little sweet old man..." then to "I will drop kick your ass in a minute fartknocker!"...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I look at him and say "well I am sorry—see, I have been stuck behind your truck for the last 30 minutes between Attica and West Lafayette--and I may have lost my patience and wanted to pass you." I didn’t even bring up the whole store incident...cuz you know--I’m trying not to work myself up into a lather. I say "Will you be able to get your car back on the highway properly?"...and he says "Why don’t you give me a shove with your car, since you like being on my ass.".......yeh.....</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I’m not proud of what transpires after this point...I can say that now...but remember I was provoked--and anyone that knows me-- knows that if that would have been someone under the age of fricken 100 yrs old I would have gotten busy on their ass.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I walk over near him and say "Sir, there is no need to be rude...Im sorry...I will just get back in my car, and I will get ahead of you."....AND I SWEAR TO GOD...he takes his cane, and runs it across the top of his car and flings snow in my face. I am now standing there...with a wet head and smeared make up...So I look at him and say "if you f*cking fling snow at me one more time, I will throw your senile ass down and break your hip".....I know...(please pray for my soul)...he then says "when I was your age I was taught respect for my elders."....I then say...with a smile "When you were my age you were taught from cave drawings, so get your prehistoric ass in your car and we will call it a day."...I am pretty sure he muttered something about me being a "smartass bitch"...not sure--I was growling so loud I couldn’t hear well.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">So---I turn around and walk away to my car...and he has now gotten his geriatric ass into the car and has the door open and looks back, just in time to see me fall and bust my ass on the concrete...I just laid there in the middle of 26, for a minute deciding how long it would take for a semi to just hit me...and I hear him cackle and cough, cackle and cough --and yells "Thank God you have a fat ass for that fall little girl!."....then he flings snow on me with his tires and leaves.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Wanna know what the f*ckin morale of this story is??? Why in this world is it ok for us to put down dogs when they get "too old"---but yet you think about euthanizing one little old man, and you’re all of a sudden Satan’s mistress?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I guess I wont be volunteering at the old folks home anytime soon...so instead I will sit here with my wet rear end...wet bra (he was surprisingly accurate when he flung that snow down my shirt)...and be glad of my youth--and my general sunny disposition--I mean there is NO WAY I will ever be a mean ass old woman...geesh...(quit laughing!)</span>Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-76509495099112682382012-04-26T08:11:00.003-07:002012-04-26T08:11:55.985-07:00A Glimspe Into My Normal World<br />
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<b>RE-MIX FROM FACEBOOK 10/17/2011...FOR MY NON-FACEBOOK STALKERS ;-)</b></div>
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I receive a text from a number that I do not know…I don’t panic much because I have recently lost quite a bit of my contacts, but instead of saying “Who is this?”—which I feel like I am asking “Do you matter in my life” whenever I am forced to ask—I instead go along with the text in hopes that it will become evident who it is. BYW—this just happened approx 30 min ago.</div>
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Text: “Did you mean what you said Sat.?”</div>
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Me: “Sure, I always mean what I say-unfortunately-lol”</div>
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Text: “Do you think that’s a good idea?”</div>
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Me: “Ummm yeh, I usually make clear decisions.”</div>
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Text: “Does your family know?”</div>
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….now…I must admit I am starting to panic a little…the number kinda looks familiar, but thanks to damn cell phones we are all lucky to even know 9-1-1. I remember the days of having to memorize everyone in my life full phone numbers and THEN still dial it by hand on a rotary phone…</div>
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Me: “Do you think I should tell them?”</div>
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Text: “Well yeh, it’s a pretty big decision”</div>
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…ok…now this feels like a soap opera…I cant wait for the next text—to find out what big decision I am about to make in my pseudo life! Yay me!</div>
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Me: “Ok, when do you think I should tell them?”</div>
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Text: “Well they are going to know something isn’t right, come on!!!!”</div>
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PAUSE…..</div>
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Me: “Hmmmm maybe tonight?”</div>
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Text: “Ok well text me and let me know how it goes!”</div>
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Me: “Ok, I will!”….I then go about my business, thinking “well that was a nice break from reality”…</div>
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15 min later…from same number…which is a Chicago area # I now know.</div>
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Text: “I heard its painful, so maybe you will get a sympathy vote from them…lolz…anyways, text me later, I will continue my research—I still don’t know how they take that little bit of skin and make it into a penis.”</div>
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I…swear…to…God.</div>
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Sigh…so the moral of this story is: Don’t be afraid to ask “Who is this??”…and also apparently my new name will be Charles soon.</div>Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-67024925783905542502012-04-25T08:27:00.000-07:002012-04-25T08:27:04.268-07:00I've Got Big Balls.Wowser...I haven't blogged since Feb of 2011? I apologize my faithful stalkers and creepers...I am going to try and do better! I don't have anything specific to rant about today...just some curious thoughts that have been rolling around in my head, and trying to leap from my lips--but will settle for my fingertips.<br />
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I know I have been guilty time and time again of poor body image... after all I am a female. Duh. I try to keep my insecurities from pouring over onto my very impressionable young daughter. Sophie is the EXACT opposite of me..in fact she is everything I wanted to be when I was her age. She is long legged, clear skin, blue eyed, thin, and well..let's face it--she's nicer then I have ever been in my life. I often just watch her skip around the house in a fuzzy, pink, happy cloud of happiness. She is a pixie. I was not like that. I was short, chubby, freckled, and didnt like my life. I told her this once--trying to explain to her to never feel less then awesome--to strive not for perfection, but for peace. She found it hilarious that I was opposite of her when I was her age. She said all she ever hears is "you look so much like your mother". That made me think of how warped our body image and what we actually see as women.<br />
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A woman will be married to a man for 20+ years and that man can probably count on one hand how many times he has seen his wife naked, up right, and in broad daylight. The man has seen her give birth, have the flu and if he is lucky enough--get a couple cocktails in her and do freaky stuff...yet...she will not allow her body to be seen by him, unless under certain circumstances. It is no wonder men all think we look better on our backs--its all they ever see! Now here is where I crack up...a man however---will parade around completely naked, in the day light--and if you let him--in front of the window that is across the street from the church -_-. They will helicopter, wiggle and strut like we are lucky to have seen such a physique! WHERE IN THE HELL DID THEY GET THAT KIND OF CONFIDENCE??? Do you realize if we had half of that swagger and gumption -- we wouldn't have needed those "feminist rights". I personally have to look away when it has happened to me...I am a worrier by nature--and when that thing is parading around--all I can think about is "How do they sit down?"..."Don't let the cat see it"..."They really need to make bras for the back-up dancers". I cant imagine a time where I waltz nude, in the middle of the day, in front of a male and give him that smile that says "Yep...allllllll this is yours, now watch--I'm going to do jumping jacks and laugh while my parts jiggle."<br />
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Women need to really start thinking like a man when it comes to this topic...we need to act like we have balls. There I said it. THAT has to be where the confidence comes from? So from now on my female friends when you are down and out, hate the image in the mirror, or you God forbid arent a Size 0 like in the magazines...get your balls out. Lord knows we have been carrying enough around of them in our purses, we might as well put them to use.<br />
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For my male readers...you keep doing your thing...we arent hatin' on ya...I wish I could be so entertained by my own body. Yes...yes I know...you guys ARE entertained by OUR bodies. Geesh....(see ladies, no matter what--no matter the size--shape--color--or whatever your mental hang ups are--your man will ALWAYS think your body is Disneyland ;-)Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-54253815173189908782011-02-14T14:25:00.000-08:002011-02-14T14:25:43.855-08:00If Your Happy And You Know It...Never Mind.As I near my "forever birthday" as I like to call it... I have been reflecting about where I have came from, what I aim to be, and what defines me. I could fill a novel with my adventures-and I have...more the question would be, would anyone wanna read it?<br />
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I turn 39yrs old Saturday... I could be in denial slightly. How the hell did I get to this age? Where did the time go? I've managed to only attend ONE class reunion--or the "Bald & The Bloated" ...just one...were there others?-you know...to warn me that I was getting older? I feel like I have accomplished nothing... I've manged to have several bad jobs, bad credit and even two bad marriages...that's gotta be a record somewhere. Who's a winner?! Charisma is a winner!<br />
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I think what I have concluded after 39yrs on this rock, is the following: quit trying to be HAPPY...I want content. To constantly search for happiness is exhausting and it suggests that the wonderful shiny, happy feeling can also "come down"...and then where are you? Content, now that is a movement I can get behind...don't confuse content with mediocrity...there is a difference. Think of a kitten soaking up sun on a windowsill...think of a bumblebee landing on each flower, for just a minute-and then moving on....think of that moment when you start to drift to sleep...ahhh content.<br />
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I've had a lot of chaos in my life...events that defined who I am-whether I wanted it to or not. I've been crazy happy--so happy that I couldn't breathe...and like a fickle friend--happiness leaves me...and the let down begins. Like an addict I am searching again...happy...happy... HAPPY. Do you find happiness in the simple things? Do you find happiness in your children? Do you find happiness in your mate? Bad news: simple things are great, and we can all be a martyr and talk about how much we love them--but do we slow down? Nope. Your children will grow, and they will leave...your left staring at papermache art, and pottery for cigarette butts-when you don't smoke. God forbid--never find happiness in your mate...why? Because they are HUMAN as well...and they will let you down...and your happy will falter.<br />
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So I am starting a new stage in my life of finding contentment in my life...the little things in my life make me content- I enjoy the quiet moments when I can do what I want, and nobody "needs" me. My children make me content...I can mold them into these little creatures--and thrust them out into the world with all the knowledge I have, all the morals I wish to instill...and I am content in knowing--they will be just fine. I have yet to master contentment with a mate...and maybe I AM content because I KNOW this--I'm not out hunting feverishly for that happy, perfect relationship...I am content with loving me-whether a man does or not. <br />
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So if your content and you know it--clap your hands...hell scream it from the rooftops. Be careful of that "happy high"...don't put a price on it, don't sell your soul for it, and finally don't DEFINE yourself by the happiness of others. When someone says "yeh but are you happy?"...I'm going to blind them with a smile, a twinkle in my eye and say "No, I am content...its so wonderful, I haven't had to take a hit off the happy pipe in days...I just breathe it in...content."<br />
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Hmmm 39yrs old...and I am content.Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-48758491945837398042011-02-05T22:19:00.000-08:002011-02-05T22:19:45.715-08:00REMIX: As Seen On FB 11/04/09- For My Non-FB Friends :)<b>As I prepare for the animal version of my 12 Randomly Planned Acts Of Kindness...I am sharing an "incident" that occurred 11/04/09...it has become some what of a cult hit. However I suspect it is more about the people that truly know me--can picture this completely. I am a dork...true story. So this is for everyone that I am NOT friends with on FB...Enjoy! PS~ Sorry in advance for the profanity, I was a little traumatized when I wrote this :)</b><br />
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As most of you know, I have long suspected that I am the Dr. Kevorkian of the animal world...little squirrels, opossums, raccoons, and such love to plant their asses in front of my vehicles and have me end their little lives....as most of you know...I have a phobia of farm animals, big tongued cows, horses ready to trample...and goats...well goats are the devils kittens--no other way to explain that....<br />
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So today I am doing my drive into West Lafayette from Attica, through Pine Village and 26W....I am sipping on my delicious fountain Coke and jamming to some 93.5....I was at the point on 26W where you can turn right and go to Green Hill, or left and go to Otterbein...where the Road Closed sign is (that I completely ignore every morning)...and then it happened....<br />
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A perfectly healthy deer comes springing onto the road---I had one of those moments right before it hit my right front side--"Man that f*cker is hauling ass"....ummmm...so I don’t have reflexes like a ninja ok?...anyways...I "clip" it with my right headlight area...it does the good ole Stop Drop And Roll into the field....<br />
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I get out of the van--shaking and furious...muttering "Stupid damn animals!!!"....I look and there is NO DAMAGE to the van...nothing...not even a clump of fur...nada, nothing. So then I smile, and think "Sh*t Charisma, its all good"....then I turn my head and look into the field...and it is laying there on its side...not moving...nada, nothing.<br />
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I was pretty sure there is some "official" number you are suppose to call when you hit a deer...but I have only hit one before this...and my ex husband made me drive back to where it was, placed its dead, bleeding carcass on the hood of my car--where he also rode--so that he could eat it...Ummm in my world that falls under "road kill"...don’t care what you say.<br />
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I sit in the van staring out into the field, trying to figure out who the hell I would call...and I swear I see it's little foot move...Now...this is where the story takes a sketchy turn....for some reason--and I still do not know why...I think I need to get out, trudge into the field and "check out the deer"....What the hell I think I am going to do with it---I don’t know...have a I suddenly developed healing hands??? I am after all Kevorkian not friggin Doolittle.<br />
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I go out to the field, and I am talking under my breath and saying soothing things...cuz you know deer like that (???)...."Hey little buddy....sorry didn’t mean to clip ya....my van is fine, you should be fine too...you alright Bambi?"....Now...once again...I must reiterate...I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I WAS THINKING...I reach down and get about an inch from touching it....its eyes have been open this whole time--and no breathing that I can see....<br />
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AND THAT SON OF A (BEEP!) SHOOTS UP LIKE IT IS CARRYING THE DAMN OLYMPIC TORCH IN ITS HOOF AND IS GOING FOR GOLD!!!!....it didn’t fart, wheeze or cough when it took off...meanwhile I am pretty sure I did all of those things--and I hit the ground like I had been shot.<br />
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I am now laying on my back...in a cornfield...pretty sure I pissed myself a little...screaming obscenities at the runaway deer...traffic on 26W is driving by....I lay there for maybe 5minutes...because I am old, and out of shape and I just know I am going to have a heart attack...then it hits me--- It was a decoy...the other deer’s are waiting in the other part of the cornfield that has not been plowed...and they are hungry for stupid human today....that gets me off my back.<br />
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As I am heaving myself up and shaking the various corn parts off of me...I see a semi loaded with grain, pull up to my van....I mean...really?...I am sure I looked completely deranged cussing, and stomping through the field...I had already decided that if God wanted to use my vehicle as the Kevorkian-Mobile...then it was possessed and nothing could destroy it--I was going to get in it, drive tthrough that field and hit that stupid deer again--and mean it this time!<br />
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The driver leans out his window and says (with a mouthful of SKOAL) "You got some troubles?"....I start giggling, and it sounded crazy even in my own ears...I say to him "You would not believe it if I told you."....he then says...."Well if you’re going to pull over to piss, you should try further down the field where it ain't plowed honey."...I look at him all indignant and say "I was NOT pissing..I was laying down thank you very much!!!"....then I stomp to my van and get in.<br />
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Roysdon/Struthers family eating ALOT of deer this year...even if I have to go off road to get me one.<br />
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Have a great day everyone....Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-64707776262805917172011-02-04T09:51:00.000-08:002011-02-04T09:51:26.989-08:00Me, Myself & My Double Chin I started my diet today and have already been at my wits end about how to choose food correctly. If I had my way I wouldn't eat at all...but apparently that isn't healthy. People will tell you not to starve yourself, it will mess up your metabolism...Hmmm well models don't eat--they look like they survive on cigarettes and Spearmint gum. My metabolism has been in a feud with my body since I was 10yrs old--and it is winning.<br />
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I have always said I am the heaviest anorexic you will ever meet. It is a daily battle for me to eat 3 meals a day...I am always thinking "if I eat that much--can you only imagine how huge I would be?!". I did the yo-yo dieting as a teenager. My Mom was always on some kind of diet, and hell- I considered her thin, so if she was worried--then I better be damn well scared to death of my weight! Mom and I have discussed this a lot...because now I have a daughter who is considered UNDERWEIGHT. Are you serious? I have learned that there is just as much pressure to STAY thin as there is to LOSE the weight. My daughter has made her "thinness" become part of who she is....this makes me sad. So I know I must stop the cycle of unhealthy eating habits now, before another generation is lost to it. I think this is an extremely common occurrence in mother/daughter relationships. As she has grown up I have thought to myself : "Who is this long legged, thin blonde? Surely there is a tall, thin, blonde woman looking down at a short chubby redheaded child thinking the same thing."...was there a switch at delivery?<br />
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The only loves of my life besides my kids? Ohhh you know, the usual suspects--carb, carb, and more carbs. I'm not even an Equal Opportunity Eater--I stick with the whites...bread, potatoes, pasta. I snub my nose at green, brown and bright food...if its not drenched in sauce or butter--well quite frankly it is below me...I'm a food snob.<br />
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There will be some casualties with this diet...I will most likely be snappy...I will most likely binge...and if I can make it happen--it will be the death of my double chin. I lost approx 3-4lbs in boob alone approx. 3yrs ago, I thought "wow I can wear tank tops now and not look like a blow up doll!"....nope...I got fat. The Boob-To-Belly Ratio as I like to call it, was gone...when you walk around with 38DDD's like I did--that waist always looks thin...but now I see belly. Sigh...<br />
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So I am sure I will continue to write about this struggle...I have done all the diets, pills, work outs...but at the end of the day--I eat my feelings...and well...they are delicious :) I need to close for now, there is a big 'ole rice cake calling my name...I love those foam peanuts, I'm sure it is going to taste very similar. Yay me!Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-84632314490784172352011-01-31T17:53:00.000-08:002011-01-31T18:41:19.354-08:00E: Is For Eternity, Eager and Elderly...12 RPAK Series...I decided today to stop in at the nursing home to put in some more credit towards my "emotional community service hours"...I always walk in with the feeling of something unexpected is going to happen...I don't know if unexpected in my mind is seeing random old people wheeling around in the hallway (I like to secretly imagine them playing like a Mad Max ThunderDome wheelchair derby) or God forbid walking by a room and knowing someone has passed away.<br />
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I have a fear of elderly people...with good reason-anyone that follows my Facebook knows why. But also because I have a fear of speaking to someone who potentially knows everything--like EVERYTHING. I am scared I am going to ask something stupid or offensive...hell I do that with people in everyday life let alone national treasures in a local nursing home.<br />
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So I was told to go visit a lady down the hall, who they felt could use the company and would hopefully not die, scream profanities (although I would have LOVED that) or call me by a long lost grand-daughters name. I wont say the lady's name to protect her identity--as well as her families...who I might add--I do not know. So no fears everybody--your grandma was not chilling with my kooky ass today.<br />
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I came in the room...like I always do--very nervous and kinda doing this weird high pitch giggle that I tend to do when anxious...it usually happens at funerals. I am sure if that particular tidbit gets out--I will not be received as positively and be known as the Giggling Angel Of Death from that point on.<br />
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Anyways..."Bettie" as we will call her...is sitting in her room, watching Maury--I like her instantly because of this. I ask her quietly "Bettie--the nurses said you may like some company, may I sit down?". I figured if all else fails and she didn't talk I could watch Maury and find out if that one chick had to test another 37 men to find that baby Daddy. Win win scenario.<br />
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Bettie turns her head and looks in my direction but doesn't speak...I walk closer...she holds her hand out...I am now in full blown panic...is she blind? Crap...not because she is blind--but because I hate worrying about if I am screaming at her....because YES we all do it--admit it. Hellooo she's BLIND not DEAF.<br />
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I am now right next to her bed debating on touching her hand--she is looking right through me...I say "Bettie--I'm sorry, can you see me?"...she says...and I am not even joking- "Well of course I can--but your wearing a camo sweatshirt and you don't look like you hunt, so I thought maybe you didn't want to be seen!"...yep...I have won the old lady lottery. I plop my butt down and begin to bond with the elder version of my smart ass self.<br />
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Bettie and I talked for well over an hour...we talked about love, kids, politics (boy oh boy that was a hoot) and back to family. See, Bettie's family does not come and see her...they live far away, and in her opinion they wouldn't "come see me even if they were close by-because they are assholes"...(score!)...She told me not to wait for the love of my life...I needed to go find him, to think of it like finding that perfect dress...fits great, looks good on you, and it never loses its appeal....yep...she giggled alot while talking about this--and I have a feeling Bettie was talking more about anatomy then love for a dress.<br />
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She had me in awe...I knew I was in the presence of someone who had experienced life, and now...was experiencing the end of it. She had loved...she was a proud mother ("even if they are assholes")...she could make the best bread in IL...and she knew that if you don't laugh at least once a day-you will die. A theory I have subscribed to most of my life...besides I cry horrible...remember Facebook friends--"snot bubbles"...yeh I said it, Pam Sichts. :)<br />
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I had a moment driving to work where I realized she had a made a point to tell me to slow down...life will slip between your fingers...and we all know this--but to have it said by someone who is experiencing it currently...and wondering when the end is near....powerful.<br />
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We have become a world of "hurry!hurry! wait!" as I like to call it...rush, rush, rush...we tap dance in front of the microwave...we download songs/movies before they are released...we have CHILDREN having sex--if you are under 20yrs old--you are a child, get over it....why are you in such a hurry to experience something that doesn't even begin to make sense until your in your 30's (yeh girls...think about that for a second)...hurry and give our kids cell phones...how the hell did we make it??? Oh yeh--when the street lights came on in the summer, I got on my bike and took my happy ass home. Period! Pushing our children to adulthood as fast as we can...and pushing ourselves to never learn patience.<br />
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So before you go out and buy the fastest technology, the quickest cooking time, and complain about an early release movie not being early enough...go to the nursing home. I guarantee you will walk a little slower, love more thorough, and hold hands with your loved ones-instead of racing each other through life. There is no contest to get to the end of your life fastest...its called death--and its permanent.<br />
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I ask her if I can come see her again...her reply? "Sure kid, but next time bring chocolate."...and I will...and we will sit and eat every square as slow as we can.Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-73848569384727362152011-01-21T07:57:00.000-08:002011-01-21T07:57:49.804-08:0012 Acts Of Randomly Planned Acts Of Kindness<span class="messageBody">Update: I will get the van back sometime in the next couple of days...there are no words to express how thankful I am. There was $1200.00 raised to help me-SO since I was threatened to not think about trying to repay this--I have came up with a solution, that will keep the "pay it forward" attitude going. For every $100 raised (which is 12) I am donating/volunteering an hour of my time to a charity.</span><br />
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<span class="messageBody"><span data-jsid="text">I need each one of you to help me with this....I would like suggestions about where I should be sent next...I will be "blogging" and posting pictures about my volunteer adventures...so YOU guys control my destiny...Do you have a charity that you know needs help??? I am very creative, and I know I can help!!! So please--post your suggestions on my wall--along with maybe a story as to why you want me there....I am excited and anxious to begin this journey of repayment!</span></span><br />
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<span class="messageBody"><span data-jsid="text">I think its going to be fun, and I am excited about it...we have been shown how the power of FB can be used for GOOD--not just friggin DRAMA---Soooooo now I am going to post once a month about my adventure and what I did :)...and you know it will have the "warped twist of Charisma" to it ;-p</span></span>Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-84564401465100627102010-12-08T13:34:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:34:48.405-08:00Sometimes you Copy & Paste in real lifeI have always been lucky enough to make friends easily...and even to keep them...I am usually the responsible one of the crowd--and have a tendency to become a "Mom" to everyone-young and old. What can I say? I like my peeps dented and damaged...I may be able to fix them, ya never know.<br />
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There have been times where I feel like I have been replaced, that someone has stole my shine...and my friends don't need me as much...I feel like I have been Copy & Pasted right over. I think for girls/women this is a pretty common feeling...women are catty by nature-and very territorial. Men may laugh at the territorial part--but good luck trying to get a pair of jeans from a chick that looks good in them, she will cut a bitch before she will loan them out.<br />
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This phenom doesn't just happen on playgrounds, slumber parties, or lunch tables....it happens at jobs, parties...and marriages. I am currently going through a divorce and discovered a line had been drawn in the proverbial sand...there is a HIS and HER side now. I hate this...hate it with everything I am. I don't want to give up "my" friends to him...I don't like biting my tongue out of fear my secrets will be repeated by a friend that is now Switzerland in the proceedings. I hate the friends who have had no interest in my ex, suddenly--cant live without hearing his voice...and don't call ME for months.<br />
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So how do you divvy up friends? Is it like furniture..."well my Mom got this for me in high school"..."I bought this on vacation with MY money"...which friends are grandfathered in? How is custody decided? He promises to give me one weekend a month where I wont run into him at one of their homes?<br />
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The only thing that makes this easier is the fact that in this process...I have made new friends...who don't care who I was married to, don't care to ever meet him, don't care that he may have won the popularity contest...<br />
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As for the friends that have made a decision to be on one side or the other....how sad...because quite frankly, the spouse and I are not on either side...we get along better then we have in the last 3 yrs...maybe because everyone has ran out of things to say about each of us...I don't know... Maybe because this was never "our war"-it was everyone else that had an opinion about our marriage...you know...friends and family that TELL you things you SHOULD know-whether its the truth or not.<br />
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I guess at the end.... I will take my side, defend it with everything I am...try to recruit...with promises of loyalty, laughs, and good will...and if all else fails...I have cookies on my side.<br />
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<b>Thank you to the friends who never drew that line in the sand...who remained loyal from day one-to either myself or him</b>....its not about how many, or even who...its about who genuinely wants the best for BOTH of us...and to the Benedict Arnolds I know...you shall miss me, and I am better off without ya...and PS...my cookies are friggin awesome..na-na-nana-naCharazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-24393305685737872962010-11-15T14:16:00.000-08:002010-11-15T14:16:14.805-08:00So I wanna....So I wanna hand out awards sometimes to people who have the most drama in their world...you know, the ones that are always in a feud, or have health issues, or money problems even though they are down at the bar every weekend? Thankfully, for all of us--their issues can be aired out in so many ways...we have Facebook, which is high school for adults...we have Twitter--which thankfully only gives us a BRIEF rundown on their issues....and MySpace...wait...what is MySpace again?<br />
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However...aren't we guilty of something as well? We are all watching and waiting with eagerness to see what that train wreck will post next? We subscribe so we don't dare miss one thing? Is it worst to be a voyeur into someones world--or an active participant in their issues?<br />
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I have become addicted to Facebook myself...I creep on people that I would normally have no interest in...I creep on people I will never meet in real life...just a morbid curiosity about what they did this weekend, did they go to the doctor like they were bitching about?...So I creep...and I creep...and I find my head filled with useless knowledge about 400+ people...I think Facebook is the average persons dirty little addiction. Its a popularity contest won by "likes" and comments...it is a narcissist dream world.<br />
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So by all means...keep updating...tell me why your boyfriend is a jerk...and then 23 minutes later post ILY...keep giving me graphic details about the birth of your 8th child, it was just as exciting 7 kids ago....and most of all...keep posting your complaints with your life, I need them like air...I am guilty of being fascinated by dysfunction...so please..keep updating...I need you to post...and you need me to creep.<br />
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P.S....thanks for creeping on me just now. :)Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-57123820363845895272010-10-04T07:56:00.000-07:002010-10-04T07:56:01.212-07:00How, Come, For , Why?I spent a good part of the night analyzing a conversation I had with someone this weekend...I hate when later you realize they were "saying something TO you"...not just flapping their gums. But actually, trying to make a point--and it doesn't hit your dumb ass until about 3AM.<br />
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So I laid in bed and thought of all the witty things I would have said--if I had been paying attention. All the hilarious comebacks, all the great advice I would have given...sadly, I'm pretty sure my friend was carrying on about "never getting any attention". I feel pretty bad now...<br />
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How come we ignore the loudest cries for attention...Do we have something in our brain that says "ignore this-or you will be hating life for about a month". Does it fall on the person who is always being "ignored" to maybe speak louder, be more entertaining, or learn to hold an audience attention. I remember taking Speech class in high school and always vomiting right before I had to make a speech-now you would need a roll of duct tape and a taser to shut my ass up.<br />
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I sent a text to my friend at 3AM...I told her "hey-I kinda just now noticed you were looking at me to guide you thru something."....her response?...."Hell no, your more of a trainwreck then me-I just wanted to vent".<br />
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I now know why I ignored her cry for attention---I'm blessed enough to have always been a non-bullshitter...my friends know whether it is during the conversation, or at 3AM...they can say "Charisma...focus and pay attention to me-I need you". Or...they can reply to a random text at 3AM...which leads me to then wondering what the hell is wrong with me....<br />
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I fell asleep at 4:30AM this morning, after going thru my issues one by one........my friend is fine, she actually text me just an hour ago-and said "thanks for checking on me at 3AM, your a good friend"....too bad I'm not speaking to her for calling me a trainwreck, she said something else on the text about needing a drink--I don't know...I wasn't paying attention.Charazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466127447847125713.post-57054630805354385692010-10-01T08:14:00.000-07:002010-10-01T08:14:44.254-07:00Welcome Voyuers!The title of my Blog is pretty self explanatory--I will sometimes Rant, and I will sometimes just Roll with it. I have a tendency to do both at any given time.<br />
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I am hoping to shed some light on various topics...with a twist of humor, and of course deviant commentary. I don't always have anything useful to say-and will probably rely on some one hit wonders to begin with, but I hope you keep reading-I could say something astonishing at any moment, I can feel it :)<br />
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Please visit often, and all comments are welcomed...unless of course you are being an ass...and well, I will most likely laugh--OR you could become an instant star in my next rant...HmmmmmCharazzmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209238258336175804noreply@blogger.com0