Friday, April 21, 2017

You will not, will not, run my show!

Ever deal with a micromanaging control freak who doesn't actually do any work? Wait, that's redundant.

This is a Seussy ode to one such person who shall remain nameless, except to be known as the Bitch of Vancouver. This person tried to control the seating at an event of mine that she wasn't even attending - the day before it - among other things. Enjoy.

Dear Bitchface -

There is no time for sentiment,
You aren't controlling my event!

I'm so tired of your bleating,
trying to control the seating.
You can't rearrange a chair
if you fucking won't be there!

You never do respond
until crisis and beyond.
You blame things on your staff,
but it's really simple math.
Your inbox is jam packed,
and you really should be smacked!

You're really quite a pain - 
you point fingers and complain,
claiming others shirk, 
while you don't do any work.

It won't be quite so funny
when your group runs out of money.
But then you'll probably blame us,
throw up your hands, and fuss.

The character that suits you best?
The green-faced Wicked Witch of the West.
Is it triggered by dementia
that you complain in absentia?

So go ahead and whine,
and if you find this post unkind,
I think you're a miserable hag,
and I won't be left holding the bag!

Sunday, April 02, 2017

Spring had better fucking spring

Sorry for the long absence. I've been trying to get my life back after something traumatic. I'm involved with another writer, who reminded me that I need to be blogging, so...

Universe, help me out here. We are living in the apocalypse, and this has been the winter from hell! We have had no sun breaks here in the land of the dark, and vitamin D and intense workouts can only go so far.

Throw us a bone, will you? I stitched this years sums up my current attitude.
In the meantime, I have yet another event coming up and once again, I need a shirt that says, "I'm not your mommy!"

To wit:

If you attend my free luncheon, don't complain about the food. It's from a hotel, after all. And, you didn't pay for it, or donate!

If you sign up for advocacy action, and I let you know the goddamn minute we hear from the Legislature about a hearing, don't complain that you "didn't have enough notice." Particularly if you don't have a job to go to.

If you want to sell ice cream at my event, get my fucking name right in your email.

Likewise, if you want to play music at my event, get back to me, or I will book another band.

This all brings to mind the comment a fellow event manager got a few years ago, letting her know that it "was hot at the walk, and there should be more trees for shade."

I told her to tell that person, Start planting!!

 I will visit you all very soon.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

The winter of my discontent

Sorry for the absence. I've been drowing in snow and interesting dates. I will visit your blogs very soon!

I must ask, is it so much to want to meet at guy who doesn't want to pee on me, or want me to call him Daddy?

So anyhow...our area got socked with more than a foot of snow in one day about 10 days ago. To give you an idea of how unprepared we were, we typically average four inches of snow in a winter.
Things I have learned regarding snow in Oregon:

1. If you share a driveway with neighbors who have four-wheel drive, they have no fucks to give, and no impetus not to create PILES of snow that trap your car.

2. It's good to have a shovel. I own one now.

3. Shoveling snow is a hell of a workout! And it impresses people. One friend from the Midwest said I was a badass...another asked if I stretched first...and another sent me a text warning me of potential muscle, back and heart damage. I told him that I merely shoveled the driveway, I didn't fuck it.

 Things I have learned about dating as a 40-year-old:

1. "I want to be exclusive" right away = "I am needy as fuck and I want to smother you."

2. "I've gotten kinkier as I've gotten older" = "Please pee on me."

3. "Do you want to get married again?" = "I can't be alone. Ever!"

And, most recently, 4. "I just met this girl I'm going to be focusing on" = "She slept with me on the first date and you wouldn't."

For those of you who are single... you're welcome ;)

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Goodbye to all that

Dear Dave,

#Fuck2016 is trending on Twitter, and I agree.

I can't believe you are in the ground.

I can't believe you are the second ex from high school who appears to have died of suicide.

I can't believe we never talked about these feelings of hopelessness. How did we hide them from each other?

Because I was there too. I wanted things to just stop hurting. I wanted to not feel like I wanted to die anymore. I just wanted the pain to go away.

Things are far from perfect, but it was worth sticking around. I'm so, so sorry you found it too painful to do so.

I wanted to lose my virginity to you. We tried, I got too nervous, it didn't work. You were patient.
You never knew about the subsequent assault, in between times we went out. 

I didn't realize how significant a role you played in my healing. You were the first guy I went out with who never pressured me, who let me do things on my terms. I went back and forth on you, I saw other people and then went back to you when I felt like it, and you were always OK with it. And when I decided I wanted to just be friends, you were OK with that too.

I wish I had known the kind of pain you were in. I wish I could have comforted you. I wish I would have thought to reach out to you and say hello, instead of having you simply occupy a fond space in my memory.

Your obituary read, simply, "At peace, in Monterey." I hope so. This song is all I can think of.

Monday, December 12, 2016

Dear potential dates~

Dear potential dates,

I don't remember dating being such a pain in the ass, or perhaps I just have selective memory.
From our holiday bag project at work...we got 2,000 condoms donated...I love my job!

Here is a list of conditions/dealbreakers I never thought I'd have to make. FYI:

1. DO NOT request anything involving pee. Ever. Period. I do not have any interest in anything in this area EXCEPT PEEING ON MY OWN, WITH MY DOOR CLOSED, WHEN I NEED TO. Why the hell does this keep happening?!
2. It's not a moment of brilliance when you feel compelled to say, "I like the woman to have her orgasm first" ... out of nowhere, when we haven't even kissed. (Yes, more than one person has done this.) And...Really? How fucking generous of you! Only one? I have vibrators that can do better than that.

3. Before you request anal sex, I require you to have experience it first, on the receiving end. Pun intended. Then tell me how you feel.

4. If I say I don't want to go out again, don't ask me. Especially don't ask me five more times.

5. If you feel the urge to send flowers to my office after I say I don't want to see you again, refer to condition #4.

6. Don't ask me about how your dick stacks up to anyone else's.

7.  Really. Don't. Ask.

8. I told you not to ask.

9. If you have a stash of Viagra, tell me about it. I date older guys, I get it. There's no shame. Don't spring it on me by surprise and leave me wondering if I'm going to be there for five minutes, and be like, "What?" or an hour, and have to limp home.

10. Speaking of which, if you need Viagra, FUCKING GET SOME.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016


Thanks to all of my blog and offline friends who have been so supportive during my divorce and the other shit this year. For the handful of people who have simply stopped communicating with me since I announced this, I have no interest in your husbands, you idiots!

I'm incredibly thankful for all of the rest of you. I wanted to give a shout out to my cyber buddy Matthew Williams, whose online insights on dating and divorce and living with depression have really resonated and gotten me through more than one bad day! Plus he's just a cool guy and good writer. I encourage you to check him out.

 I'm going to try to make the rounds and catch up on your blogs a bit over this post-apocalyptic holiday. I still feel, as one of my colleagues put it, that I woke up next to Rod Serling's corpse.

Instead of focusing on that, I choose Snoopy. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
PS The dating adventures continue...but that's another post. No one else has asked me to give them a blow job while they pee, thank God!

Friday, August 19, 2016

Of warrants, sex toys, and peeing

If you haven't figured it out from the subject line: I went on an online dating website. I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and meet new people, because even though I meet a lot of people through work, I don't want to shit where I eat.

WENT. As in, past tense. As in...oh holy fuck, I have to get this out of my system and share it with you people.

First off, sorry for the long absence. Just when I think I am turning the corner from depression this year, I am right back where I started. I really appreciate the support from my friends in blogland who have been checking in on me, especially as I get ready to go over the hill next week. (More on that later.)

So, I was married for 11 years, and needless to say I'm out of practice at dating. I missed the whole online thing and the smart phone revolution (read: naked pictures) happened while I was married.

I get that in dating as in life, you have to meet a lot of idiots and creeps before you meet people you like. It's a fucking tall order, trying to find someone who 1. isn't a creep, 2. isn't an idiot, 3. DOESN'T OFFER TO SEND YOU NAKED PICTURES OR ASK YOU IF YOU'D BE UP FOR GIVING HIM A BLOW JOB WHILE YOU PEE.

Um. WAT. You say? It's true. I had that come up as a "theoretical" question.
Some of my favorite doozies:

1. A message from someone who looked at my online profile. "I have no wants or warrants out for my arrest." Oh really? Glad we got that out of the way...

2. Sexting etiquette. Two people messaged me offering naked pictures "on request," because "I'm a gentleman" and wouldn't send them unsolicited. Oh. My. GOD. How about never? Does never work for you?

3. People who wax poetic about things like architecture and books in their online profiles, and then message you with questions like, "Are you into anal? How about beads?" Not making this up.

4. 25-year-old idiots who ignore the age filters. I am turning 40 next week! I am old enough to be your mama!! Not only that, you're probably living in your parents' basement, don't have a car, and won't be any good in bed, because you're 25. End. Of. Story.

A tip for the uninitiated: women don't ever have to go online for sex. If we ever get truly desperate, there is always an ex or a friend waiting in the wings. And we know better than that anyway. Most of us have invested in products with batteries.

So there you go. Stay tuned for part 2...because there are more horror stories to make you laugh.

Hope all is well in your worlds.