Oh Mah Gawd

It turns out that sometimes...just sometimes....my unsolicited tirades have positive effects.

I will say that the email from my boss,  subject line "Thursday's Meeting" certainly made my heart sink.  Little did I know that my excessive outburst of bossiness actually represented itself as passion and I have just been handed the coolest project evah!

Hurrah!!

Also...ALSO...Sunday practice?   Reached two major goals.


All this said....I really feel, at this exact moment, that I have hit the ground running.     My house is a goddamned pig sty, my kids are forced to make their own lunches, sometimes their dinner comes out of a box...and everything is just flipping perfect.

So....time to sign off on back to bolt.   I created this blog years ago to bitch.  And I'm so glad I did. That said, I feel as though I don't lend enough time to my successes.

 I'm 36 years old.  I am a single mother.  I am quirky and satisfied and I have too many animals sleeping on my bed.    In short, I am rad.

 And that is what my next blog will be about.    Closing the door on immaturity and self deprecation (sorta).  Opening a new one, about my wellness and my successes.  About how a chubby lardo can safetly and slowly get her ass back into shape.   How said lardos person trainer will "build me one hell of an ass" and how the very same lardo, with a fuck ton of hard work....even if it takes years.....WILL be a member of one of the best derby teams in Canada.


Fare the well, my faithful 2.5 readers.    With so much excitement I bid adieu.

xox

Here Comes the Sun!!

Oh man, am I ever in love with this sun.

It's not even that I tend to stupidly grin ear to ear without reason.  It's that the moment I believe that Spring is almost here my motivation can not be matched.   

Replant all lettuce the cats ate.  Check

Repot my house plant clipping.  Check

Scrape glue off stairs.  Check

Walk Gary.  Check

Bake.  Check

Have first assessment with personal trainer?  Check

EEeeeeee!  I finally did it!

 

Enough is a fucking nuff.    My goal is to make a team by the age of 40.  My other goal is to look like Nicollette Sheridan by 40..... but I'm not totally delusional.

 

SO EXCITED!

And jesus..don't even get me started on what I have planned for my garden this year.  I could go on for hours.

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIJUSTDIEDFROMHAPPINESS!!!

Like a dog with a bone

So I'm always amazed when I have these epiphanies about myself.

The road to self realization isn't all "you go girl, you CAN do it"  It also involves realizing some fairly disturbing personality flaws.

Maybe not disturbing.  More, WTF?!


I have been butting heads with one of my kids.  Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.  Just perfectly normal  preteen stuff.   The child in question is also the most easy going child.  She's kind and funny and agreeable.  In fact, with the exception of the very sexually charged joke she told my Mom she has never been a lick of stress.  Just the sweetest ever.

Until she isn't.


When she gets a bee in her bonnet she is so infuriating and ridiculous it makes my hair hurt.  Like a dog with a bone.  Will not drop it.  God.  The bloody last word thing DRIVES ME INSANE.

What does any of this have to do with my road to self realization?

Well, turns out she is exactly.like.me.


sigh

I try to avoid conflict. I try to be the better person.


Until I don't.


 To be fair there is only a small handful of people that I am fully comfortable letting my feelings be perfectly known.   9 times out of 10 it's resolved with a "hey, remember when we lost our shit?  Fun.  Now let's get coffee and move on".   If ever you need to be reminded of what makes a really good friend you just need to look at the ones you have had the knarliest arguments with.  


Above and beyond.  It's ok to have flaws.  It's not ok to refuse to learn from them.   It's ok to argue or fight even.  It's not ok to gaslight.

Learn learn learn.  

You can indeed teach an old dog new tricks.

Muggy 2.0

It's dead to me.

What the fuck, Muggy engineers?!?!?!  Now, don't get me wrong.  My ability to build and create is limited to guinea pig cages and sugar cube castles but I'm pretty certain that someone shit the bed here.

Here is the thing.  If you are going to manufacture something, unless it's a gold fish, make it last more than a bloody week!  There are people out there (me) whose sheer delight at the pure genius of this magical colour changing mug is equally shot when the fucking stickers start coming off.

And WHY aren't these magical colour changing stickers reinforced?  Surely I'm not the only person in the world who, I don't know, WASHES DISHES!  A mug, like all dinnerware,  needs to have the fortitude to get wet for Christ's Sakes!

Problem number 2.  I am what one might call "a picker".  Absolutely nothing has brought me more pleasure than an ingrown hair on a boyfriends neck.  I also dream that one day I will be the victim of a bot fly invasion.....so look at it......ready to be picked.  I WANT TO PICK OFF ALL THE STICKERS!!!   But then I'm just left with a black mug.  A boring old black mug.  

sigh

And I thought genocide was a bummer.

C is for Control Freak

Hire personal trainer.  Check

Two job interviews.  Check

Bounce gymrat misogynist.  Check

Don't pick of tetris mug sticker.  Check

Master T stop.  Working on it.



The girl has officially regained control.

Some days we just fight.

Dear Gary,


I hate you.




ps-go fuck yourself.

heheehe

I think I have discovered that the best thing in the world about getting to know someone is not finding out about your shared interests.  It isn't that moment when you both look at each other and loudly proclaim ME TOOOOOO! in excitement.  It isn't that moment when you both reach for each others hand at the very same time.


It's seeing how far you can take your jokes.


Thanks to a recent Reddit thread I am fucking KILLING it in this department.

Me!  FTW!!

Anticipation.

When I was 21 I had a baby.   It was terrible.   Promised I would never do it again.

Three years later I had another baby.  I was prepared and confident that I would get through it with far more self control than before. I refuse to be one of those women who (again) scream for more medication.  How pedestrian.  The moment the first contraction came I was transported back and I was well aware of the hell fire that was about to be my vagina.   Screaming, crying, begging to go to the hospital.  Promised I would never do it again.

By the time kid number three came along I considered myself a childbirth pro.  One of these homebirthing hippies who had their cloth diapers ready.    Clearly someone as in touch with nature as I would handle THIS round of childbirth like a good, crunchy mama.   Afterall, sure childbirth hurts but if it was THAT bad, why am I doing it again.  

The last thing I really recall is being naked, on all fours as my Mom and sisters watched.  Screaming to go to the hospital.

Anyhoo.....roller derby might be exactly like this.  And I can now confidently confirm that I am indeed a total masochist.


Jesus Christ.  It's hard.  Really hard.  My recollection of last years FM is one of pure joy and self improvement.   Like, I know it's hard.  But really.  It's awesome.  

Nope.  It's mostly fucking hard.

Here is the thing.   I get really hurt.  Like, hurt.   Everyone gets hurt.  That's the nature of the game.  It's not a question of if you will be injured.  It's when.  In order to improve you HAVE to take these crazy risks that 9 times out of 10 will result in a fall.   We are like those stupid 13 year boys on their skateboards repeatedly trying to jump and always falling.  Sadly, that's the only way to learn.   Now, this would be pretty fun if I were a 13 year old boy.  But I'm not.    Also, there is also that one little detail that if I were to actually progress I will actually have to play the game.  In front of people.   Sometimes there are professional photographers.....taking pictures.

Phobia #1-The camera


This is what I look like in EVERY picture where I am unprepared.

What's my second phobia you ask?    Looking foolish.

This is actually one of the most perplexing phobias as I literally humiliate myself every.single.day.  But that just me living.  I'm used to it.  When I actually have to PERFORM?  Holy shit,  the fear of failure is crippling. 

Then there are the practical reasons.

This is happening to my feet.

Now, it's not just the aesthetics.  Sure, it sucks that my TOENAILS ARE FALLING OFF but also,  I'm pretty sure the searing pain is NOT normal.  That said, this is not abnormal and there are in fact solutions. Expensive solutions.  Like, I need to actually start budgeting for this.


It's kinda scary when you decide to commit to something.  Petrifying knowing that as hard as you try it might not work out.


 But it's also really rad to think it might.   That little flutter of hope is just about the best goddamned feeling in the world.

Letting go. Moving Forward. Falling in Love Again.

I have a hard time letting go.  I find my comfort zone and even if it's not great it's still comfortable and familiar.  When this is challenged and I am forced to face the world on my own I am thrown into a tailspin and I just don't know HOW to carry on or move forward.  The vacancy eats at me.

When I lost Muggy it was hard.  I blamed everything.  The kids, the cat.   Karma.  Myself.   It was so hard to overcome the grief that there were days that I was certain I would never recover.

Sure, there were other mugs.   They were ok.   Didn't quite feel so comfortable.  Always felt like I was betraying Muggy.  They were never as good as Muggy.  Time passed and the empty ache Muggy left in my heart soon grew smaller.   The realization that perhaps Muggy just wasn't meant to be finally rushed across my soul.  Closure.


And then....when I was least expecting it something magical happened.

Out of no where came replacement Muggy.

Amazing Muggy.

motherfucking.COLOUR CHANGING.  MUGGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Warmth spreads over my heart.  A perfect match.  Indisputable chemistry.  I...I.....I can't even.

Whole.Lee.Shhhh.Hit

What a difference a nice day makes.  Seriously.

After spending the past two days in a slobbery pile of self pity ever so slightly glum I greeted this morning with a determination to break myself out of this gloomy bubble.  Last nights marathon of My 600 Pound Life and 12 Years a Slave enjoyed while chugging back the Jamison's...and transferring some funds for my cottage vacation....and eating really expensive cheese kinda made me think....what in the fuckity FUCK am I pissing and moaning about!

Anyhooo....thanks to my two super shitty cats I stupidly adopted I was up at 7 am sharp so off Gary and I went, a great hike in a little woods near my house.  He always walks like such a gentleman when free from the leash.  Unfortunately, people are the worst and have the nerve to bring their kids outdoors as well.  It doesn't matter how much you try to convince someone, having a 70 black monster stampeding towards a precious doesn't exactly inspire confidence.   Speaking of Gary mauling children, I wasn't quite satisfied with our walk and off we went to the dog park.  I am convinced that there is no happier place that that park.  Dogs!  Playing!  It's amazing!!

Ok.  Dog park?  Check.   Cottage rented?  Check.  Bunged up from 4 pounds of cheese?  Check.

How could it possibly get better?

It can.

you know how?

Bet you can't guess.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!   They are sprouting!!   They live!  There is hope that Spring will come.

My cheeks are sore from smiling.

That's more like it!

Awesome! More snow!

Mother Nature can seriously go suck it.

I have had it.  HAD IT with this shit.   Typically by the end of February I'm ready to rip out my fingernails and Monday was met with a four hour bawling snot fest.  While some external situations may have contributed to my misery I'm also pretty confident that this constant dumping of white terror is about 99.999999999% responsible.

But every cloud has a silver lining and I learned that money indeed buys happiness!   Good news for me is that I come cheap and my happiness came with a modest price tag of $41.37.

If Spring wont come to me it's time to take matters into my own hands.

140 plugs of hope.

Plus cute labels I made.

I don't care if it's too soon, or if they all die   All I know is that I really needed to play with dirt.  All I know is that I need just one little sprout to remind me that this ghastly winter is soon over and I can play outdoors once again.

Holy swing of emotions

The past few days have been a total, to quote my highschool boyfriend, emotionacoller.   Up and down and questions and up and happy and then the whole WHAT THE FUCK just happened.   All for the sake of dating.  

Now, in my defence, I may have been on my period and I may have been a total hormonal wine swilling chocolate binging maniac slightly hormonal.  But seriously.  At what point does one throw in the towel?  In the span of 72 hours I have apparently turned someone gay (or at the very least my inherent masculinity reminded him that he liked the dick) and reminded someone that they are still in love with their ex girlfriend..from two years ago.  Now, this was just this weekend alone.   I can't even bear to discuss the others.

So, here is where I am torn.  I really like cuddling.  I really like cuddling with the anticipation of p in v.   I also really dig myself and think I'm a rockstar (even though I often think my cons outweigh my pros).  But in the past I have sacrificed and set the bar terribly low with disastrous results.

Sigh..



TO MUCH THINKING AND LESS......




ROLLERSKATING!!!!

The countdown is officially on!  One week from today I can finally take these skates out of my living room.  My shitty floors are getting even worse thanks to my antsyness.  I NEED THE ARENA!!!!!


There is just something about these skates that totally make me feel like this:

Even though I really look like this:

 Still, I keep on going.