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!