Friday, February 29, 2008

Friday Night Classifieds.

Come on, you have to admit these people would be fun to have at a party. Of course I would make sure your belongings are locked up and you are well armed but other than on dudes !
My good friend wants to drag me out line dancing and tequila shooting tonight. My problem is that when hanging out with her, the evening will turn into line shooting and tequila dancing and I just don't have the stamina anymore.
The mind is willing but the body says, fuck that....put on comfy jammies and break out the Ben and Jerry's.
My body takes great care of me.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

While I am big on buying tons of cloths I don't need, I am not big on returning said items when they are damaged, the wrong size or simply have trouble getting along with the other useless pieces hanging in my closet.
So when I put on a new pair of slacks I had recently purchased, I was annoyed to find the fucking thing had a broken zipper, I tossed it my should handle but probably never will pile.
Unfortunately, it occurred to me that I purchased a blouse I really liked to go with said slacks and this could end up a bad purchase times two. I rummaged through my wallet hoping that I did not go through it lately and throw out all the lose useless pieces of paper the clerks always hand me along with my new bag of happy.
SCORE! I found it between the unpaid parking ticket from December and a thrice folded fifty dollar bill.
Definitely some Karma working for me there.
I shoved the balled up slacks into a plastic grocery bag, threw in the receipt and tossed it carelessly in the back seat with full intention of going to the mall that very night for the exchange.
Three weeks later, the guy who detailed my car discovered it under the front seat.
I mentally calculated if I had passed the dreaded 30 day exchange window while reciting thirty days has September, April, June......and whatever. But I knew it wasn't January so I added that extra day and discovered I was just under the wire.
Since I do not normally return shit, I had no idea what the procedure was and grabbed the first clerk that happened by and asked.
"Any register," she snapped grudgingly.
Alrighty then. I went to the ladies department and, always the helpful little shopper, I found the slacks and headed to the counter for the exchange.
Which is when I heard the shouting.
To not offend your sensibilities, I will say that this angry young woman was dismayed to be informed that her credit card was lacking the financial flexibility to accommodate her lofty purchase plans for the day.
The poor clerk looked horrified as this woman spat out some obscenities that even I had not yet heard of. (But did make mental notes of them to pull out at the next available opportunity.)
The employee got on the phone and paged some number overhead that I assume translated into..
Crazy ass bitch register 2.
The manager on duty, a portly gentleman with thick glasses appeared almost instantaneously and asked what he could do to help.
"Nothing! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...fuck you all!!" she spat and stormed off.
What. The. Fuck! One of those fuck yous were in my direction.
Now I know why I don't return shit. It is a jungle out there.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Night of the Living Dead

As I walked through the entrance doors into the social hall of the church, my heart was all a flutter at the anticipation of finally meeting my true love. I wondered what he would look like. Would he be tall and sexy? Short and quirky?

Would he and I see each other across a crowded room and run into each others arm in anticipation of the wonderful lives ahead we would share?

I took a few steps in and scanned the room.

Wait....did I get the days mixed up? Was it geriatric bingo night? Is there another social hall? I backed out and glanced at the sign perched upon a stand.

"Catholic Singles Welcome".

It became clear the only way my prince was going to see me was if he had undergone previous corrective cataract surgery and the only way he was going to run to me was if his walker had wheels instead of green tennis balls.

I took a step backwards planning my escape. As I did, I noticed a group of three women eying me up and down as if assessing the new talent in town.

I shuddered. I am sure any of these grandpas would be a great catch for bachelorette one two or three but dockers with drip marks on the crotch and ears that needed a trim simply was not my idea of a great catch at this point.

"Hi! Welcome. Can I get you some coffee?"

Shit, I had been spotted by an euthusiastic blue haired lady whose lip stick lines did not quite match the shape of her lips.

"Errrr. No thank you. I was looking for my Grandmother," I lied.

"What's her na..............."

I was half way to the car with the faint smell of Old Spice still lingering in my nose before she finished the question.

As I was authorizing random email address to view my blog, it occurred to me that I have no idea who these people are so why am I bothering? I am opening it up and if someone doesn't like what I have so say...stop reading fucktards.

For those who are kind enough to keep linking my bullshit, you kids are awesome.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Isn't Saturday Date Night?

So what the fuck am I doing sitting here drowning my sorrows in key lime pie and chocolate milk?

No matter how great this pie is or how sweet the milk tastes, it isn't nearly as satisfying as a good stiff......


I went to get the bottle of Grey Goose I tend to dip into when I get dumped but I notice there is very little left.

Already been a bad year and it is only February.
However, I am not ready to throw in the towel yet!

I read in the church bulletin last week that they have a singles meet up every Sunday evening at 7pm.

I would love to tell you kids that I actually attend Mass regularly which is where I picked up aforementioned bulletin but even I can't lie about things relating to church.

Not because I fear hell but I fear bad dreams about Sister Mary Margaret pulling my braids and pinching my arms.

Gosh, I hope that mean bitch is dead so she is no longer torturing children.

The priests diddled the boys and the nuns beat the shit out of the girls. Gotta love the Roman Catholic Church.

Anyway, my mother brings home the church literature hoping that something will sink in and make me once again see the light.

And last week it worked!

Single MEN? Single men all gathered in one place for the pickin'?
I am sooooo there!

Of course they probably believed in God and the Angels and Saints but I can fuck that God fearing, bible thumping shit right out of them in no time.

So, yes, that is where I will be tomorrow at 7pm.

I am certain I will have some good stories about the experience on Monday.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Be Still My Heart.

No wonder I can't get a date. I am going about it all wrong. I need to change the wording in my ad to read more like these:

Seeking rich old woman with bad hearts and no relatives.

Bitter, disillusioned SM recently rejected by longtime fiancee seeks decent, reliable woman, If such a thing exists in this cruel world of hatchet faced witches.

FOXY LADY:Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty,80’s, slim, 5′4″ (used to be 5′6″),searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion.Matching white shoes and belt a plus.

LONG-TERM COMMITMENT:Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot.Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.

Desperately lonely loser, SWM,32,miserable,apathetic, tired of tv and watching my roomates hair fall out. Seeks depressed, unattractive SWF, 25-32, no sense of humor, for long talks about the macabre.

SERENITY NOW:I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation.If you are the silent type, let’s get together,take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.

Frisky pup seeks some tail. Tired of going in circles. Lets catch up sometime–you can lead the way.

Seeking: Female companionship due to Carpal tunnel syndrome.

Break out of the tired old traditional male/female roles. I’ll be the baby seagull and you feed me regurtitated raw fish like a nurturing momma bird. I’ll provide the raw herring and vomit inducer, you bring the strap-on beak. No weirdos, please.

MEMORIES:I can usually remember Monday through Thursday.If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let’s put our two heads together.

Your idea of camping is pulling hotel sheets over your head, calling it a tent.
My ideal lot in life would consist of wandering through a pre-industrialized, pre-agriculturalized Earth, eating fruit and squirrels, occaisionally stopping to sleep and hump. I can’t do that, however, because most of the world is now considered someone’s or some government’s property, which if you ask me, is a fantasy. But I guess you didn’t ask me, so forget that I just said (er, wrote) that.”

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, race unimportant. I’m a very good looking girl who LOVES to play, take long walks in the woods, hunting camping, fishing trips and cozy winter nights by the fire. Really like a man with a pickup truck. A candlelight dinner will have me eating out of your hand. I’ll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. Kiss me and I’m yours.Call (***) ***-6420 and ask for Daisy.
[Daisy was black labradour retreiver. The Ad was placed by the Atlanta Humane Society. Over 15,000 males responded to the ad.]

Thursday, February 21, 2008

It's Thursday Already

I have no date for Friday or Saturday night. Big freakin' surprise.

I simply do not understand why there are not rich and attractive men banging....

on my DOOR.

Okay, yeah, on that too.

I continue to peruse dating sights like and for my prince charming.

I was looking at Craigslist but decided that I really don't want to be tied up and flogged with spaghetti by some married man.

Although, perhaps I am being too selective. I mean, maybe I could take a doggy bag of pasta home for the next day lunch.

Since I am a wise ass, of course I had to respond to some of the more outrageous Craigslist ads with one simple sentence...

What's in it for me?

Evidentially, what I am in for is as follows.......

A BIG dick baby... (yes I am sure he is)

I will eat your ----- out for hours. (Believe me, if I have time to lay in bed for hours, I am taking a fucking nap)

Nothing too dangerous or too painful. ( Whew...what a relief. I hate scarring.)

I want to pound out that tught pretty kitty all night long. (I think fluffy would prefer a good scratching and a bowl of milk)

Looking for NSA fun (Do I even want to know what NSA is?)

and the most confusing to date...

A french lesson would be fine, more if you are interested.

Is it possible that men still don't know how to work their way into a woman's bed?

There was not one offer to clean out my garage, change my oil or mow my lawn.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in!

Hi Kids, As many of you know, SCM found the blog. He did so by deciding to open up every folder on my old computer seeking to solve the mystery that is Christine.

I can't help picturing the Mission Impossible theme going through his head as he points and clicks his way around my shit.

Yeah, I felt bad for a few days. Of course not for the fact that I publicly humiliated him but that I got caught doing it.

I do have a heart but it has been and will remain in self protection mode as long as it continues to beat.

Soon he was trying to make me feel better assuring me that he 'wasn't going to do anything.'

Errrrr, ok, thanks?

I mean what could he do? Yell at me, sign the divorce papers??? What were those assurances about?

Since I am capable of rational thought, I often have the misconception that all others are as well. So it took me a bit to figure out what the hell SCM was fucking getting at?

He was talking about SUING ME.

Yes, my husband of 9 years was under the impression that his generosity was going to save me from litigation.

He was a bit stunned to discover you can't sue your fucking wife jerkwad! Especially not because you widdle feelings were hurt.

I should have taken the high road and thanked him profusely for his generosity for keeping another frivolous suit out of the court system but the threat was just too fucking stupid to be permitted to live.

So of course, I squashed it like a bug.

As more time passed, SCM decided that he really was quite impressed with my blog and suggested a collaboration of some sort.

I offered a guest post but no, he wanted to start a new blog where he could get his ramblings read by the audience I had created over the years.


Not so much.

Anyway. This new blog is going to focus on my life as a single over 40 woman with a bad attitude and tits that are starting to sag...... Maybe, just maybe...we can pick up some more interesting characters along the way.

Of course we will. I attracted them like bulimics around a toilet bowl.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I am so fucking sick of any one with a Y chromosome. As a matter of fact, I am now convinced that the Y is for Yellow bellied mamas boy.

There was a book popular in the 80s called "Real Men Don't Eat quiche." Well, lately, every man I meet not only consumes quiche but eats it with their little pinkies up.

Yeah, I know some of you men out there are taking great offense to this but guess what....

I don't give a shit.

Where are the men like dear ole Dad?

The guys who cut half their thumb off with a circular saw and duct taped it back on so they can finish single handedly putting an addition on the house?

The guys who only cry when their Mamas die and then only do it behind locked doors?

Ok, so I am tough and don't care much for weak men. Lots of you gals out there dig the sensitive side so more power to you.

Believe me, there are many men to choose from in that case.

As for me?

Turn off the American Idol, build me a deck and kill that big hairy bug in the corner.

That is what makes my heart a-flutter.