To leave the house, or not to leave the house...that is the question in 2014.

I knew it has been awhile since I last posted anything. I didn't realize it's been 6 months, though. Had I made some bad decisions the night of that last blog, today I would be 3 months away from being someone's mom! Or would I...? Given how 2013 went down, I am not too sure I want to leave the house in 2014 to even practice. By the end of this blog, you might back me up on that decision.

Let me make one thing clear: I've got a fairly thick skin, so what you are about to read is my way of sharing the good times. I will admit, though, that after some of these events occurred two packages of Oreos, one extra large pizza (with black olives) and several shots of Bourbon lost their lives in my attempts to self-medicate.

Story # 1: I was out one night, wearing my nicest burlap potato sack, when I was introduced to a friend of a friend. He had all of his front teeth and as it turned out, he was 4 years younger than me. I knew there was something special between us when later in the evening he said, "I don't usually find older women attractive, but you're not too bad." Really? You're adorable. I'm not even that much older where I could have been your babysitter. Hmmph. I think in today's society, ages are now being calculated in dog years. It's a whole new world out there and I am very unprepared.

Then there's the wee little man story. I am being 100% honest when I say this guy was approximately nipples-high (I'm 5'4, you do the math). It was a night when I was wearing my favorite cat sweater, feeling pretty good about my hot self. Several adult beverages in, wee man's balls must've dropped and he says to me, "I'm not usually attracted to bigger girls, but I think you're kind of cute." Gee, thanks? And coincidentally, I am not usually attracted to grown men who are still legally required to use car seats, so hey, let's step outside our comfort zones. I'll pick you up at 8pm? *literally picks him up*

So those two dudes were my "something new" learned in 2013: Anytime a guy starts a sentence with, "I don't usually..." it's going to end poorly for me. Duly noted.

Then there are the random comments that aren't story-worthy, but are still worth sharing. These are times in my life I'm pretty sure I have stumbled into a Tourette Syndrome convention:

1. You have thick legs. No, I mean that in a good way. Like, good-thick. (just shut up already)
2. I think you're a serial killer. (meant in the nicest way possible, I'm sure)
3. That's a nice outfit. I can really see what you were trying to do. (bitch)

And to think, people tell me that I lack an internal filter. Irony is fun.

Last but not least, how could I forget one of the most complimentary conversations I've had so far this year? On this particular evening, I looked exceptionally good with my off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and stirrup pants. This story is slightly different, however, since my fellow conversationalist is someone I've known since...well, since my stirrup pants were in style the first time around. Anyway, we got talking about my Hollywood marriage that ended in a white trash divorce. In talking about my ex, my pal said, "You know, one man's trash is another man's treasure." He clearly mistook my shocked expression for confusion because he went on to clarify with, "I mean, you know, you're the trash in that analo--" I got it, I got it, thanks. You can stop talking now. But just for that, I will make you buy me all the drinks this bar has to offer. And food. And that girl's coat across the room, because I've never seen that shade of blue before. Yes, I am demanding you buy my friendship back.

I guess I need to let it all go. Leave the past behind. Smile every day. Think positive. Don't suck. Never wear underwear. I don't know, inspriational quotes are hard. You get the idea, though, and that's all that matters.

So until we meet again...Cheers and Happy New Year!

I don't mean to bitch (but really I do...)

I want to start this off by saying I love old people. Is that rude? But it's true. I was practically raised in a nursing home (my mom worked in one and childcare was limited). I volunteer at my local VA and hang with the vets during bingo. Let me tell you - nothing is scarier than a bunch of former Army guys catching a Marine cheating at bingo. He can "Ooo RAH!" all he wants; if B 4 wasn't called, it WASN'T CALLED and he will have 5 guys offering to personally kick his cheating ass back to his room.

With that being said, I would like to ask one teeny, tiny favor to all the "old" folk out there: Stop doing things on my time. I don't think I'm asking too much. All I am asking for is to go to the bank on my lunch hour and get in and out. I get pissed when I'm stuck in line behind five 73-year olds who got there "early" so they could catch Maury Pauvich at 1:30pm (yea Dad, I'm talking to you). Spoiler alert: We never find out who the father of LaShawnda's baby is! Big shocker there.

Or maybe I want to get to work early one morning. Is it too much to ask to have an easy-breezy drive in at 7:10am on a Tuesday? Apparently, yes, that IS asking too much. Sucks to be me, but Ethel and Bea need to take their morning drive to nowhere at 8 miles per hour BELOW the speed limit. Oh, you're stuck behind them? Sucks to be you; Ethel's rear-view mirror is turned straight down to the floor so she doesn't even notice you are tailgating.

And then there's the dentist. Just once I'd like to snag an appointment during "regular people hours." You know, maybe a 2pm on a Thursday; I can take a half day off from work, grab some lunch, head over at my leisure... But NOPE. Forget about booking any kind of appointment between 9am and 3pm. Even if I get lucky and sneak in at 1pm-ish, I walk into a waiting room full of gray-haired folks who all have appointments ranging from 2:30pm-5:30pm. REALLY?!? Can't these people just drop off their teeth and come back later?

So that's my gripe for today. Oh wait. Did I say this blog was about old people? HA! My mistake. I actually meant it was about unemployed people who were milking the welfare system and are looking forward to the joys of Obamacare. It's bad enough they're mooching our tax dollars; now they are mooching our free time. Yeah, I have a problem with that. Bummer alert: This blog ended up being one.

I think the Honey Badger is on to something.

If you haven't watched the YouTube video about how badass the honey badger is, you need to get on that before you keep reading this blog. It's cool, I'll wait.

(waiting...............and waiting some more........)


Good stuff, eh? Okay, now this blog will make sense to you.

I don't think I am alone when I say I think society has gotten too soft. Everyone is afraid of insulting someone, even if it means sacrificing their own principles and comfort level. I am here to say Forget That! If the Pope can quit his job, if the Mayans can reset thousands of years, then gosh darn it, we should be able to say what is on our minds and not be afraid of ringing in 2014 all alone because we insulted a few friends & family members along the way.

I think 2013 should be the year people stop being polite and start getting back to basics. Put your big boy/girl pants on; shit is about to get real.

People have told me that I am rigid, uncompromising, obnoxious and generally speaking, uptight. I cannot say I disagree with any of those descriptions, but I do disagree that I am any of those things all of the time. I would say it's an 85/15 split. Most of the time, I'd say I'm fairly relaxed and easy going. Here are some of the things I ask for full cooperation and consideration on. Like a power-lifting midget, this list might be small, but it is powerful:

Use a coaster (or I'll break your fingers). By my calculations I have already spent approximately 1/6 of my life dusting my furniture. I will make your life permanently uncomfortable if my time was spent in vain because you are too lazy to use a coaster for your Diet Dr. Pepper.

If I'm on the phone (not with you), don't talk to me or the person I am on the phone with. 1 - It's rude, and 2 - I cannot multi-task and have two conversations at once. It's hard enough for me even to use a phone, let alone juggle two conversations. Cut me some slack and I will give you the same courtesy. If you choose to ignore this warning, you risk getting an epic kick to the shins.

Be on time. It's really not that hard to be on time, and you're really not that important to be late. Sorry Narcissus. I apologize, Joaquin Phoenix. You're just not that important. Hell, I'M not that important. All I ask is that you don't hold up my meeting; chances are I'm hungry, I have to pee, or I just have shit to do. If my party starts at 6pm, show up at 6pm. I don't want your ass camped out on my couch at 3am all because you decided to make an appearance at 10pm. My life is not your 24 hour convenient store.

If you ask a rude question, expect a rude response.

If we are in the same crowd together, don't stand next to me and fart. Granted, the random Fart in the Crowd is usually a stranger (or maybe I'm giving everyone I know too much credit), but come on. What makes the crowd fart so gross is the body heat of the crowd. Besides, I don't need your fart in my $10 beer.

So with the new year upon us, I think we should all drop our inhibitions and just tell it like it is. Call people out. Break some fingers for the rings on your coffee table. Stand up straight and say No! I will not buy more Girl Scout Cookies! (okay, but just one more box) Stick to your guns - If someone is talking about you behind your back, respond to them to their face.

If we all follow the rule of the Honey Badger, we can put Tums out of business. It's pretty simple, actually. Just don't give a shit.