My F@#king Running Shoes!

My mood is pissy today all because of my f@#king running shoes.  Let me first say that I walk and do not run.  I try to walk 3 God Damn Miles 5 days a week.  I call them God Damn Miles because when you are walking on a treadmill to nowhere for an hour it's pretty much God Damn Miles.  I had the prettiest black running shoes with turquoise soles and turquoise shoelaces.  I LOVED THEM!.. I happened to look inside my shoe and noticed plastic showing.  On the outside of my shoe they looked almost new, but I had to get a new pair because of the inside.  Let me second say I hate to shop!....I am an impulse buyer, you will never catch me going to a store to browse...NEVER!!!...My whole day revolves around my getting my walk in for the day.  So when I have to run errands, my stress level goes up.  It's the same when I go grocery shopping, another thing I HATE!.. I walk very fast and I push my shopping cart with a vengeance.  I run into people all the time, under my breath I say, "get out of my f@#king way you slow motherf@#ker" (I really do need to get on an anti depressant).  Getting back to the running shoes.  I drive over to Shoe Carnival.  Right when I walked in the sales associate (You will never see that at BEST BUY) said, "Can I help you?"... He looks down at my shoes and says he has the exact shoe on sale.  I was excited for about a minute when I realized they didn't have my size.  Well they had one pair of shoes my size still in stock, but locating them was impossible.  I scanned the sale rack and see a pair of black running shoes with white soles and white shoe laces, "I thought, "these will do" and I purchase them IMPULSIVELY.  I get home throw my old shoes in the trash, alone with the receipt and box of my new shoes right before the garbage man came. (Lucky Me)... Later that day I head to the gym with my new running shoes. I started my God Damn Walk and noticed my toes on the left foot starting hurting.  I thought I will just have to break them in and continued to walk.  OMG, 10 minutes into my walk the toes of my left foot where hurting bad. It felt like I had broken 3 toes.   I had to leave the gym, pissing away my walk day and thinking why would my left foot hurt and not the right.  Second Day I decided to put band-aids on my toes and continued to walk.  OMG 10 minutes into my walk the toes of my left foot where hurting again. I thought, "I'm F@#ked, I threw away the box and the receipt, $35.00 bucks down the drain!".  I get into my car and sped out of my neighborhood onto the interstate until I got to another shoe store. No parking spaces..."OMG OMG OMG, My Day Is Ruined, My Day Is Ruined, My Day Is Ruined, I'm a Psycho, I'm a Psycho, I'm a Psycho"....I finally find a place to park, I run inside, look for black shoes, find black shoes with pink soles and pink shoelaces and purchase them for $60.00 bucks.  I asked the sales clerk what was the return policy. She said I had 3 months to return them as long as they WERE NOT WORN.  I thought to myself, "How am I gunna know if the running shoe fit good unless I WEAR THEM.  I won't know until tomorrow if my new running shoes work out.  Moral of the Story... If you weree me, kill yourself now and get over with it or GET ON A GOD DAMN ANTIDEPRESSANT, Oh, and Maybe try your running shoes on FIRST.  The End~

75 % Of The World's Population MIght Be Mildy Retarded!

I was at the library today and the librarian that was helping was was was, I don't know, maybe Mildy Retarded?...Her shirt read, "I GEEK POETRY", I think she should have had a shirt that read, "I GEEK ZERO PERSONALITY"..... She looked like she was in her mid 30's, short hair, over weight, unkempt.  She mumbled when she talked.  I could barely understand her.  It seems I had a $30.00 fine, one book out and one magazine out.  I tried to explain to her I simply lost the book but I was pretty sure I turned in the magazine.  She kept grilling me about the book.   She said something like I couldn't get a new card until I paid the fine but they would look for the magazine then she gave me a new card which was my old card but I couldn't get a new card until I returned the book and magazine or paid the fine.  Did that make sense?.... You see what I mean?....She didn't make sense to me either.  "Mildly Retarded" popped into my head.  I am more like my dad than I care to admit.  First of all I like to call him Felix Unger because he reminds me so much of him.  My dad is a neat freak, obsessed about the cleanliness of his house, his yard, his car, his shoes, all hell, he's even obsessed about his appearance.  When I talk to my dad it's never simple conversations.  We don't talk about the weather, food, sports, hobbies, music,  or anything common.  We mainly talk about death, the after life, religion, jobs, careers, politics, and money. Wait a minute that doesn't sound right.  Just know that our conversations are seldom light. All my life I've always known my dad to judge people.  If you talked slow, moved slow, wobbled, looked down, stuttered, janky looking (that word just makes me laugh), you were labled, "Mildy Retarded".... My librarian was most of the above.  Over the years I have heard my dad say, he or she is "My God!!!, Mildy Retarded Poor Thing" that I know think 75% of the world's population might be.............................. Mildy Retarded.

I Was Walking Like I Had A Wet Virginia Slim Between My Legs, If You Know What I'm Sayin...

So I'm at the beach this week and decided to walk the beach for my usual exercise.  Back home I walk for one hour on a treadmill and then stop, not because I'm tired, but I'm bored out my damn mind.  I can walk for miles on a beach and never get tired or bored.  I love the sound of the ocean, I love to look for sea shells, seagulls, and of course it's always fun to people watch.  The weather was overcast so I decided to wear a flowing maxi dress and start my walk at the edge of the beach.  I started left of my condo and walked for a good hour, trying to decide when to turn back.  I wasn't tired or bored after the hour, but I said to myself, "well one hour walking to a distant condo, then one hour to walk back to my condo was good enough for the day."  As I was turning back I felt my the third degree burns between my thighs.  Let you in on a little fact about myself.  I have huge thunder thighs, bigger than Brittney Spears & Beyonce' ....Okay a lot bigger, but I'm Old.  God blessed me with small ankles and small wrist.  Ray Charles would be puzzled.   Getting back to my third degree burns on my inner thighs.   Okay, Okay, Okay, there were chafed.  OMG the inside of my thighs hurt like a motherf@#ker!   Here I am 3 miles away from my condo with no phone, no nothing.  It's not like I could have called my daughters and say, "Girls come pick up your Moma, I walked 3 miles to the left of our condo, the inside of my thighs are chafed, on fire, and I can't get back to our condo." How am I going to get back?", I said to myself.  I started my walk.  Let's just say I was walking wide.  I would stop every 10 minutes and splash ocean water between my legs.  I bet I looked Real Classy doing that.   I would say I was walking like a duck or a penguin, but I'm pretty sure those animals don't have a wide gait when they walk.  The thing that popped into my head was, "I Was Walking Like I Had A Wet Virginia Slim Between My Legs, If You Know What I'm Sayin..."   Well I made it back to my condo, close to tears, highly embarrassed, and swore to myself that I was going on a diet. Don't worry, 10,000 inner thigh lifts are also on my list too.  From My Beaches (Bitches) To Yours.... The End~

My Crazy Dream Last Night!

I was at band camp deep into the country.  Actually the middle of nowhere.  The  band camp finished  so I decided to walk to the casino for lunch.  The casino was a two story building.  I found the stripper show but I couldn't find the buffet.  Then I looked down the road and noticed that the band camp had left me.  I thought I had plenty of time.  I called home crying to my dad saying I was left behind at band camp.  I called home for my dad.  My daughter said my dad was in a meeting.  I kept crying and crying and then asked one of the strippers to call me a taxi for the one hour ride home.  The taxi driver pulled up in a house van, completely nude.  He was walking with a Jennie Doll.  He then strapped the Jennie Doll in the house van and put on a porno tape.  I asked the stripper will I'll get raped and murdered he said, "No, I will be fine".   Then I look up at the window and there was Danny Bonaduce spitting on it and trying to look into the house van.  Then I woke up.... PS I was watching bits and pieces of the Broadway show Kinky Boots on You Tube that night because the lead singer won a Tony so I was curious.   I guess that's where the strippers come to play into my dream.  The End~

My cmputer has a fuckng vrujs agan

 dn't wn a ceell phne all  have s my cmputer.  sn't ths sme sht.  Hw tdd ths ahppen.  t's the weeken s  have t wat untl mnday mtherfucker 'm s  Psssecd.   Hw d   gert vrus.    seear t g G d that 'm nt l nt lkng at Prn.  Mtherfucker seems my cmputer lkes the wrd Mtherfucker.  Bete Me... Kss My ASS.  Snfg a Btgch.  Cu/////bnt\\\\Damn t t Hell, LGater!

The Pu**y That Smells Like Peaches!

Well Desiree you have sunken to an all time low with that title.   "Yeah, I'm 50 years old and "life's too short to really care at all" as that song goes.  My biggest fear (not really my biggest) is to smell like Pee.  I went to a nursing home for 20 years to visit my mother and the first thing you smell when you walk inside a nursing home is Pee.  The nursing homes try to hide the smell with Pine-sol but it still smells like Pee with a hint of Pine-sol.  Women that wear femine hygeine spray smells like femine hygeine spray.  It has a certain smell, even the ones that are marked baby powder, still smell like femine hygeine spray.  It's not just an old lady thing because I went to an outside wedding in California last summer and got a wiff of some young girls on the dance floor.  Let me tell you, they smelled so bad that pushing them into a algae filled lake would have upgraded their smell.  Yesterday, I was in a hurry (I'm always in a hurry on the femine hygeine aisle of the store).  You will never find me browsing the aisle to look at the different products, it's just plain embarrassing (but not too embarrassing to write about it, ay?).  I picked up a different femine hygine product that read Tropical Paradise.  I threw it in my buggy and piled a bunch of groceries on top.  Didn't think much about it until I was headed to the gym.  I grabbed my femine hygeine  spray and the first thing I  noticed was the power of the spray.  "Wow, I thought, nice coverage".... Then the smell hit me.  It smelled like peaches.  I no longer reak of VaJayJay spray, My Pu**y Smells Like Peaches!~PS Just call me Kris Jenner~The End~

Graduation/Valedictorian Speech... "To Be Honest, It's Gunna Be A Shitty Life"

I'm at a graduation ceremony listening to an 18 year old Valedictorian giving ME, or rather the auditorium, a speech on life.  First of all, let me say that the Valedictorian, many times, is the one that flunks out of college. The parents have drilled them so hard in high school, by college they are burned out and have just discovered POT.   The Valedictorian starts off by saying,  "You can be ANYTHING you want to be."  Stop right there!  I'm 50 years old, I always wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer and that dream passed way over me three decades ago. "Work Hard and Perservere," he says, "because the sky is the limit". He should have said, " The Milky Way," because the sky hasn't been the ceiling since 1957 when Sputnik 1 entered space. He goes onto saying,  "Never Be Satisfied." Wait, hold up.....Are you kidding me?... I'm never Satisfied and that's why I take a HANDFUL OF PSYCHOTROPIC DRUGS, in hopes of being Slightly Satisfied.  "Be Strong," he goes on to say, then finds out his parents filed for divorce two weeks before graduation, hoping the divorce would be final while he's on senior trip.  "Dream Big." Well, I want to travel the world but so far "My Dreams" are pretty much "A Dream." Let me predict how it's gunna be.  The kids that start working full time at 18 are gunna work at a SHITTY JOB for 50 years because 40 years at a SHITTY JOB is not pratical in this day and age.  The kids that go to college are delaying getting a SHITTY JOB by four, six, eight years or maybe ten years depending on how much debt the parents are willing to take or they have topped off on their student loans.  To be truthful, I know Doctors that hate their SHITTY JOB, and I'm not just talking about the Gastroenterologists... Lets see, these college kids will finally start their SHITTY JOB, many we marry and have children where the odds are 50/50 that they will not stay together. Married or Single, they will still have to work until they die working at their SHITTY JOB.  If you think I'm being cynical then you are not on the Infamous Facebook where people HATE their Jobs so much that they start trying to celebrate the weekend starting on Hump Day Wednesday (I don't know what this means to Old People, the only thing they are Humping is patting the Hump on their back they got walking decrepitly towards their SHITTY JOB), then it's Thirsty Thursday....TGIF.... and finally Tailgate Saturday where everyone relives The Good Ole' Glory School Days when they didn't have to work at a SHITTY JOB....Then it's ONE day of recovering from their FOUR day Binge Drinking, then it's back to their SHITTY JOB. The End~

THAT DAMN BITCH!

I haven't written any blogs in awhile because I guess I've been depressed.  I decided last night to go through my sewing stash and get rid of fabric.  When I say I got rid of fabric, that's  an understatement.  I went into a frenzy and threw 13 years of fabric away.  It filled up one large outside trash can, and I have two large totes ready to give away to my sewing buddies.  I have to say it was very emotional to give away my fabric.  My youngest daughter kept asking me "Where's my blue blanket, Where's my blue blanket?"....Look at me, I kept all this stupid fabric over the years, but threw away my daughter's baby blue nursery blanket that was embriodered and very tattered (thinking I would just make her a new one).  I burst out into tears and kept saying, "I was sorry, I was sorry, moma threw it away"..... I couldn't stop sobbing,  On one crazy impulse day I decided to get rid of stuff and the blue tattered blanket was one of them.     One of my older daughters decided to go through this closet  hoping maybe, just maybe I had somehow saved the blue blanket and really didn't throw it away afterall. She didn't find the blanket but found a journal I had written about my daughters when they were little.  It was only about 20 pages or so, after my misscarriage I went into another depression and stop writing.  My 4 girls would read aloud each page from this journal, it was though they couldn't get enough of my stories.  All of a sudden this rush of guilt came over me that I didn't write more about our family.  All I have are these 20 pages and now my memoir.  I guess that would be enough for most people, but not for me.  I am now going to write more, if not for the public, then for my daughters.  Whats with the title of this blog?...Well I was at the library with other local authors for this thing called Auther's Rowe.   This snooty lady author/editor next to me told me not to write about me and my life because that's not important but write for the public and write what the public was interested in.....THAT DAMN BITCH!

I Can't Get My Shit Together!

I'm going to bed around 3:00am on average.  I'm too embarrassed to say what time I get up.  I'm in deep depression and I know it.  My Psychiatrist tried to put me on an anti depressant a couple of months back but it made me wake up too much during the night and we all know how OCD Desiree is about her sleep.  "Her world is all about getting those 8 hours of sleep."  It's been my obession for 28 years now.  That's a long time to have an obsession.  I even hate Fucking facebook.  The one thing that brought me out of depression 4 years ago has brought me back into it.  I don't know, I just don't like the format at all anymore.  It's become a Fucking Betty Crocker Cook Book.  I'm not intereste. When I first got on Fucking facebook I was so excited to catch up on people I haven't seen since highschool.  I would write and write and people would respond and respond.  We joked and shared laughs, it was fun.  Now fucking facebook is a CHORE.  I would say I like 10% of this social media.  I can't deactivate my account because all my pictures tell a story so I'm stuck. I'm stuck in a Fucking Facebook rut.  "Desiree I know how impulsive you are"...."Don't Deactivate, Don't Deactivate, Don't Deactivate"...."Well Desiree what about your sewing, quilting, & crocheting?....Biking?.....We thought you liked all that?"...."No, all that's becoming a Fucking CHORE too.  "What about your dancing?... "We all know you love to dance"....."Well I hate my hair and my eyelashes fall off, so I can't go dancing"...."How about books and movies?"..... "You use to love them"......."My standards for movies are pretty high and books, well a book really has to be something I'm interested in, and I can tell you for a fact I don't EVER read what everyone else is reading (nobody lean me books, I won't read them).... "So Desiree what has become your new obsession or pleasure?"....Obsession>Documentaries.....Pleasure>1st cup of coffee at noon and that's about it!......"Desiree,  I reread everything you just typed, it really sounds like you need an anti-depressant."......YOU THINK??????

Things I Hate Today!

Taxman wants money I ain't got.  Obama 5%?....  Really?....Try a MINUS 1OO % then you can feel my pain.

Things I Hate Today!

Someone hit and dented my vehicle at the mall and left a note.   The same day my daughter's friend hit and dented her vehicle, no police report was done and the vehicle's estimate is $1,600.  Finding peanut butter floating in the jelly.  Finding coffee lumps in the sugar, and toast crumbs on the butter~I HATE LIFE TODAY!

Clang Association?

Help me with my Clang Association.... Edgar Aleen Poe, Stabbed the Ugly Crow, Just like Desiree his is Bi Polar, To be happy they both need lots of Solar, Never made money as a Writer, So glad Desiree is still a Fighter....That's all I got and it's pretty bad, which is really sad, that makes me mad....I must not have the "Clang"

Turning 50!

Turning 50 is Pretty Nifty, That being said, I guess it's better than being DEAD!

"I'll Think About It"

"I'll Think About It", is what he said.  Boy, was my dad Felix Unger mad.  Here's the story....I was a freshmen, sophmore, junior in highschool.  I know exactly what grade I was in but if I were to say then the poor boy would be outed.   Let's call him Greg Brady.  Sadie Hawkins (a dance where the girl ask the guy out) was fast approaching, and I needed a date.  God, I always needed a date in highschool, but nobody ever ask me on one.  Boo Hoo Desiree....Anyhoo, I was leaving the band room one spring day.  My dad Felix Unger was there to pick me up.  I was nervous all day because I knew I would see Greg Brady coming out from football practice and pass right in front of the band room.  There's my chance, I see Greg Brady who is a year older than me, and I nervously approach him and say, "Would you like to go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me?"... He said, "I'll Think About It".... My dad Felix Unger had just pulled up to the curb and gave me a stern look.  I got in the car, dad wanted to know who was I talking too and what was it all about.  Let me clarify this, I was known for 2 things in highschool, I was not the pretty girl, the outgoing girl, the funny girl, NO, I was known as the principal's daughter and the quiet girl....I know right?... People that have been following for over 2 years on Facebook would be surprised because now, I put ALL MY BUSINESS ON THE STREETS as they say....Well I told my dad Felix Unger what Greg Brady said.  My dad was beyond furious.  He yelled, "THIS BOY SAID HE WOULD THINK ABOUT IT?..NO, NO, YOU ARE NOT GOING WITH THIS BOY, OVER MY DEAD BODY, I'M SO SURE HE HAS TO THINK ABOUT IT"... I sheeplishly explained (total lie) that Greg Brady came from a strict family and he had to ask for his dad's permission.  Felix calmed down and excepted that lie.  About a week later Greg Brady said he could go to the Sadie Hawkins with me.  We decided to double date with another couple so we could go to the mall and buy matching shirts.  Before going to the mall we ate at a Pizza Joint.  As we were getting into the booth, I accidently kinda sat on his cowboy hat.  Oh, My, God... HE FUSSED ME like I was a child!!!!... His tone of voice was like I had killed someone.  My first thought was that "I bet his dad beats the shit out of him"...  Right then and there I realized I had made a terrible misstake.  "This Sadie Hawkins was not gunna be fun", I said to myself.  The next week a friend lent me a cowboy hat and I had crocheted me and my date neck ties... I'm laughing just thinking about it, I crocheted us neck ties.  Greg Brady comes pick me up and we are off to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.  When we walked into the civic center a group of girls rushed over to Greg Brady and Gushed and Gushed and said, "We didn't know you were coming?.... Who did you come with?"....He was the football player and I was the principal's daughter, the quiet girl.  I made a bee line to the bathroom and stayed in there for most of the dance.  I came out long enough for a picture then I was back in the bathroom hiding.  Greg Brady didn't seem to mind because he had plenty of admirers....God, I was so awkward in highschool.  There's not much to tell more than that.  He brought me home probably for my 10:00pm curfew.  I don't even remember if we shook hands as we parted.  So if you are out there "Greg Brady".... I'm a Funny Gal Now, and I Can Out Dance Anyone (all in my insane mind)  The End~

He Loved His Mother (A Little TOO Much)

     I don't know what got me thinking of an old boyfriend and his relationship with his mother.  I was around 22 years old and he was a couple years younger.  I never knew someone who loved his mother as much as he did.  I like to say an Uncomfortable Love....  I was working full time because I had already graduated college.  My boyfriend was still in college at the time.  I would work all day then hit the gym for a late high impact aerobics class.  I would then head to my apartment, wait anxiously for my sweartheat to call, tell me he had finshed stuydying, and was ready for me to come over.  One particular night I drove to his apartment and let my self in.  As I was walking to his bedroom I could hear giggling, laughter, and love chatter.  I stopped a few feet from the bedroom door and listened.  He didn't know I had come in.  I thought to myself, "That Son of  A Bitch is Cheating on Me!!!".  I decided to confront him about his love chatter when he looked up and smiled, hung up the phone, and said, "That was my mom, she's so funny".  Okay to say I was uncomfortable was an understatement.  The story goes is that his mother had him when she was 18.  Now that he was 20 that made his his mom only 38.  Wow, now that I'm about to turn 50, that sounds mighty young.  I got to meet his 38 year old mom a few weeks later when he invited me to his hometown.  Oh, wait before that his mommy decided to visit college boy and bring him homemade cookies.  Sounds innocent right?  Well when my boyfriend told me the story he had gleam in his eyes and would giggle about how his mother ate half the cookies on the way to see him.  He would giggle then laugh, giggle then laugh as he told me the story. Again the way he told me the story made me so uncomfortable.  He often told me how pretty his mom was and how much he admired her.  One weeken he decides to bring me to his hometown.  I was beyond nervous.  We drive the hour to his hometown and he's giddy with excitement.  Who gets giddy when they visit there parents?  His parents were divorced so we were going to see his pretty mommy and In The Way stepdad.  I finally meet pretty mom.  She had a plaid shirt on as I recall and to tell you the truth she didn't look like the high power executive that he had described.  After dinner we headed to his old bedroom.  We were sitting on the floor when his moma plops herself on the bed and said, "Son I have your special treat......Frozen Snickers!!!!".....  She then percedes to feed him with her fingers....one bite for lover boy, one bite for mommy.....one bite for lover boy, one bite for mommy....  Oh, Hell No, I can't believe what I am seeing.  I should have call for a Taxi  right then and there.  Don't worry I didn't have to seek therapy because lover boy broke up with me 2 weeks later.  I guess I didn't measure up to his pretty hysterical mommy... The End~More Like Godsend~

My Dad, Felix Unger Might Be Slightly Negative!

Slightly Negative?....Such an understatement.  I just finished watching the documentary Halston where Liza Minnelli talked a lot about her best friend Halston.  Watching Liza Minnelli got me thinking of Judy Garland.  I was 6 years old watching Wizard of Foz for the 30th time.  I'm guessing on the one time of the year that the Wizard of Foz came on.  I called it Wizard of Foz until I was about 15 years old.  I must have never looked at the beginning, maybe I was in the kitchen getting a cardboard moonpie and some milk from the kitchen.   My Dad, Felix Unger wouldn't sit down in living room and watch the Wizard Of Foz again.  No, he would peer his head through the living room door and say, "You know Dorothy killed herself because she was an alcoholic"....Can you image being 6 years old and you know your beloved Dorothy killed herself.  Then my dad, Felix Unger would further say, "Well she was born right around your grandmother's time, she didn't kill herself at 16, she was much older".  There was no Googling her name to get the entire story.  Now I know she died around 47 years of age, but in my 6 year old mind, she was 16.  Finding out the the Wizard Of Foz was a DREAM shattered me as much as when I found out there was no Santa Claus.  I will say I TOTALLY Lack Common Sense.   I lacked Common Sense when I was 6, and I still lack Common Sense at almost 50.  I Over-Think EVERYTHING.  I live in the Past or the Future.  I never live in the Present.  I make my life Harder than it Has to Be.  I Struggle with Life Everyday.  My Bi Polar Depression gets worse with each day.  I think,  "I'm gunna Die A Nobody, Never Making My Mark Here On This Earth, Just A Plain Old Lady With Ugly Sensible Shoes, Ugly Thick Glasses, Ugly Barely There Grey Hair, Frumpy And Smelly Like Moth Balls, Blue Veins Popping Out My Hands and Black Bruising all over my Body because a Simple Butterfly Tap Bruised Me Motherf@#ker and All My Quilts Will Be Rotting In Someone's Attic, I Get Pissed Just Thinking Of This"....Someone keep those words for my epitaph.

My Black Pleather Boots!

I had to go see my Psychiatrist yesterday, and as usual I dressed to the nines.  It would have been the tens if I had real leather boots.  I never want to look like a patient.  I don't care what doctor I'm going to, you will never see me in sweat pants.  So yesterday I had a short black skirt, black stockings, my long black boot, and a cute blouse.  I had a ring bling on almost every finger, earrings, braclets on both arms and something in my hair.  "Looking Good and Smelling Good", I thought.  As I was waiting for my appointment, this girl came storming in smoking a cigarrette and pacing the lobby.  She sits down, I tell her hi, and of course I ask what medications she takes?  She was glad to ratttle off her pills, Lithium, Depakote, Trazodone, Prozac, and about 10 others I didn't recognize.  Then she shows me her arms, and told me she was a cutter.  She also said she pounds her fist at her head because that's what was done to her growing up. The she said most of her boyfriends were beaters too, but her current boyfriend was not, so that is why she has hits herself in the head.  Not only was she Bi Polar like me, she had Dissocoiative Disorder.  "Wow, I seem so normal compared to her", I thought.  It was my turn to see the Psychiatrist, I was led to the back.  I walked into my Psychiatrist's office with my head held high for awhile, then it slowly fell as I decribed my depression.  He's looking at me for clues.  I look very "put together" for being depressed.  I left his office with a new perscription for Wellbutrin.  I bring all my perscriptions to CVS thinking they thinking, "damn she takes a lot of pills".  I get home, past by a full lenght mirror, and glance at my boots.  The tips of my boots, the size of quarters are chipped off to reveal WHITE PLASTIC. Here I am, thinking I looked so good  this morning, and now I really looked like a Disheveled Hobo. How did I not notice my scuffed up boots this morning?  Knowing me, I was rehershing what I was going to tell the Psychiagtrist today.  Getting back to my Black Pleather Boots.  I bought these boots at the Shoe Station (that's probably why they were $19.99) so I thought they were real leather. For years I bought my shoes from Payless, before I realized the shoes were not real leather but plastic or more like pleather.  What do you do with Pleather Boots?...Shoeshine will not adhere to the WHITE PLASTIC. Guess what it has come down to?....A BLACK SHARPIE!  I went from looking "Classy" to a "Sassy Hobo" real fast.. This is the story of My Black Pleather Boots. The End~

This Can't Be Good For Your Lady Parts!

I was in a foul mood because I didn't want to go to the gym today.  Maybe it's because I don't take exercising seriously, well....... enough to cause results that is.  I prefer to ride my bike outside at a leisurely pace with no wind.  If the wind is blowing ever so slightly, I can't ride.  My Big Brittany Spears and Beyonce thighs don't allow such things.  Well with my Pissy Attitude, I tried to swipe my thing a ma gig and it didn't work.  I'm probably locked out of this 24 hour gym because me and my girls were changing cars because for the month of December my car was broken.  Gosh, I honestly didn't think these 24 hour gyms checked their monitors.  I was looking for someone to let me into the gym when I accidently walked into a Spin Class that was just fixing to start.  I decided instead of hasseling with the gym, I would take the Spin Class in the adjacent building.  For starters, someone had to adust my itty bitty ass seat.  I thought to myself, "this ain't gunna be good".  The pedals of a Spin Bike is like a holster for the feet.  Again someone had to put my foot into the contraption.  I cut a bunch of jokes saying stuff like, "Do ya'll have a Disco Ball that lights up?".... "Can ya'll play some Shinedown for me instead of that Techno Stuff I know ya'll gunna play?"....Nobody was laughing.  I though, "Wow, this is gunna be Brutal"......I started peddling and right away I could feel the difference between the bike I ride outside to this Spin Bike.  The teacher would yell, "TURN THE TENSION TWICE TO THE RIGHT!!!".... I turned it to the LEFT.  After about 15 mintues my Lady Parts were hurting.  I thought this can't be good for you.  Which explains why Lance Armstrong has one testical. Badda Bing Badda Bang.... I'm a cancer survivor too, La De Da...The teacher would yell, "UP UP UP CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN!!!".... I did not, I was in my own little world probably peddling in slow motion.  I knew this Spin Class was too hard.  I'm a month shy of turning 50, more than half my life is over.  I got one foot in the grave.  It's over for me, and I know it.  I gave the class 43 minutes and left bow legged.  Now it's time for a Bubble Bath, time to Soak My Lady Parts.  Goodnight Lance and Goodnight Everyone.  Don't Forget, Life is Short!....Thank God.

She Slept With A Married Man & Ate Acorn Squash!

What a funny title but it's true.  I'm trying to eat healthy, so I decided tonight for my nighttime snack I was going to eat a sweet potato instead of a bag of chips.  Baking 1 sweet potato for a snack seems so odd until I have a flashback.  I had graduated from college and moved to Baton Rouge.  Not knowing the city and being a tightwad lead me to having roomates (all girls of course).  This one roomate I had I so admired from a distance.  She was tall, thin, very neat, and going to school to be a mechanical engineer.  I thought she was so smart to be studying a field dominated by men.  I'm not going to judge my roomate too much because she helped me out on many occasions.  I remember one night a guy shows up to see me like at midnight, she told him to get lost that I was sleeping because I had to get to work early the next day.  My Savior...  Wait a minute!!!.. I just remembered we shared a room.  There was Desiree in her twin bed on one side of the room and there was my roomate in her twin bed plus her boyfriend of the moment on the other side of the room (4 feet apart).  I remember putting the pillow over my head many of nights..... GROSS but TRUE.  Now the married man was just one occasion that I remember.  There was a knock on the door, I answered it, and there standing was a 40 year old married man.  I was shocked because we were only 21 years old.  He wasn't there to see me obiviously.... I asked no questions...Now That's Shocking....Young Desiree never asking.... Who?...What?...When?...and Where?... That really was Young Desiree who now "Puts all her business on the streets". Then there was the time this Tall Tall Amazonish guy wanted to be with me & my roomate.  I thought come on Desiree be Sophisticated & Swinging.  We all 3 go to the store to get Bubbles?...WTF?.....Back at our appartment in our living room, Tall Tall Amazonish guy told me to kiss my roomate.... I said to myself, "Oh, Hell No, Party Is Over"..... I then Ran To My Room and Locked The Door.  Those Swinging 80's were Somethin' Ay?....  What about the Acorn Squash?  Well I'm the type of person if I'm hungry, I eat.  I never wait for anything.  Here's my roomate who was starving takes an acorn squash, wraps it in foil, and sticks it into the oven for an hour.  I though, "An Hour?... Wow, What Discipline!".... She goes back to studying and patiently waits for her Acorn Squash.  I on the other hand think for an hour, "What's Acorn Squash?"... The End~

YOUR MAMA IS DRUNK!

I just read in the paper yesterday that the manufactors of the drug Ambien are having to change it's strength from 10mg to 6.5mg on orders from the FDA. (That probably didn't make sense, it's not like I'm writing with the help of an editor)  It seems there have been too many automobile accidents due to the grogginess the medicine causes the next morning, the sleep driving, and the sleep eating you do on this drug..... just to name a few.  I know all about this drug because I've been on this medication for 20 years.  Am I addicted?.... Am I using it as a Crutch?.....Is it Habit Forming?.... Yup, Yup, &Yup.... When you are Bi Polar you do what you gotta do.  About 14 years ago my daughters where 8, 6, & 4.  My husband was out of town playing golf.  I use to get so pissed off when he went with the boys for the weeken, and I was stuck home taking caring of the girls.  Now that my girls are grown, I'm so enjoying my independence again.  Those fights we use to have about golf are long gone.  Now that I don't give a sh@# if my huband plays golf, there's no money for him to play, unless a vendor brings him then he wins and brings home the same stuff..... a shirt, some balls, a bag, some tees and a gilf certificate to guess where? ..... A Golf Store.  Ain't that somethin'.  Getting back to the Ambien story.   My daughters decided to have a sleep-over.  So that would be 4 girls all under 8 years old.  I wanted to get a good night sleep so I took 2/10mg Ambiens added to the Trivil & Prozac I was on.  I woke up the next morning with Cold & Cough Medicines, Nyquil, Asprins, Pepto Bismol, Band-Aids and fingernail polish strewn everywhere, on my bed and on my nightstand.  I got the story the next morning from my 8 year old.  She said her friend said, "YOUR MAMA IS DRUNK we need to help her." The poor little girls' parents were recovering alcoholics so that's what she thought.  It seems when I was in my Ambien induced Coma the girls had polished my nails, my hands, my eyelids all while I slept. I don't know what they did with all those medicines.  Evidently I didn't ingest all that, expecially Nyquil because I'm still here.  Like Nyquil or any cold medicine would do anything anyway because if you see what I take now to go to sleep?...It's like 2 Horse and 3 other pills all at the same time and I still sometimes can't sleep.  What a great mother I was.  I was over protective in some ways like my girls riding in a car other than me driving would cause me lots of anxiety and yet I never thought to lock up medicines.  Then my daughter told me that I got up out of the bed and had all the girls sit in a circle to drink lemonade out of a bottle.  My oldest daughter said it wasn't lemonade, it was wine coolers.  She said she knew it was bad so she dumped the wine coolers in the sink.  I'm such an over pretective mother, I find this story so bizarre and hard to believe, but it really happened.  I will admit to driving to Wal Mart in my nightgown, buying Hershey Kisses, eating them and returning to bed.  I did that ONE time.  I will also admit to calling random people and have entire conversations, but not remembering any of it the next day.  Now that I've been on Ambien for 20 years I know better.  No more crazy stuff.  I now simply watch Netflx until I fall asleeep then watch it again the next day because it's like I didn't watch it at all.  The end~