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.