I Think There May Be Something Seriously Wrong With Me

READ BOOKS

I'm not sure if you have noticed it or not but I'm a little high strung.  Recently I decided that I needed to take steps to be a little calmer.  A little less stressed.  My mom has been doing yoga since August and she is constantly trying to get me to start going.  I've been resistant.  I can't really say why I've been resistant, maybe I'm just lazy.

A few weeks ago I started seeing an acupuncturist on a regular basis.  Believe it or not it works.  I went in the other day with a migraine and the minute he stuck the first needle in I had relief.  Also whenever I leave there I feel absolutely calm.  Calmer than I've ever felt.  (OK not as calm as when I have a Xanax but pretty fucking calm.)  I'm now addicted to the acupuncturist.

This past week I decided that if going to the acupuncturist made me feel good then going to yoga certainly couldn't hurt.  I did my research and picked a yoga studio that seemed to fit my personality.  Or fit my personality as much as a yoga place could.  Saturday was my first yoga class.  There were about 20 people in the class.  I positioned myself in the back of the class so that I could leave quietly if I hated it or say I had to... y'know... pee. 

There was a woman in the row in front of me who looked to be about 50.  She had a silver hoop in her nose and was wearing a see through lace shirt with a black bra underneath.  I couldn't take my eyes off of her.  I wasn't exactly digging her whole look but I was impressed that she was just being who she is and being 50ish didn't change her one bit.  I noticed that she also had arm tattoos.

I was enjoying my yoga very much when I noticed that the nose ring lady had tattoos on the back of both her calves.  Suddenly I couldn't concentrate anymore.  I needed to know what was on the back of her calves.  I couldn't really see because her yoga pants came about half way down her legs.  Now if you know anything about yoga you know there is some balance involved.  And please remember this was my very first class.

As we were getting into Warrior III her pants fell so that I could get a better glimpse of one of the tattoos.  I couldn't completely tell what it was so I leaned forward and to the right a bit to get a better glimpse.  I was so obsessed with the tattoos that I wasn't really concentrating on what I was doing.  I fell right over.  OK I didn't collapse completely on the ground but I did make a spectacle of myself.

Wanna know what the tattoos said?  READ BOOKS.  The woman had READ tattooed on her left calf and BOOKS on her right in Old English Script.  Do you think she was a librarian?

This Blog Post Entitles You To One (Or Possibly More) Sexual Favor(s)

I never post twice in one day but this is a "have to" case.

Today started out as a bit of a blue day.  Honestly I was feeling down right bad about myself and my life and missing people I shouldn't be missing.  Then the postman came.

Many, many months ago I wrote about how I was having problems deciding whether or not I should purchase the Anna Nicole book or the OJ book.  For various reasons, I ended up buying the Anna Nicole book but I never forgot about the OJ book.  Never ever.

A package came in the mail today from Amazon.  I was a bit confused since I knew I had not ordered anything from Amazon in quite a while.  Excitedly I opened the package.  (I open all unexpected packages like a 3 year old at Christmas.)  Guess what was in the package?  This little gem.

The person who sent me this lovely little present continually amazes me.  How is it possible that someone I met through the Internet repeatedly knows what to do to make me happy?  (Don't get me wrong, he repeatedly knows how to piss me off too but he has mostly done things that make me smile.)  This is the best birthday present ever for several reasons.  First of all, it shows he paid attention.  Secondly, it shows he knows how to make me laugh.  And third of all, it shows that he doesn't have a problem feeding my sick obsession.

Best!  Present!  Ever!

Someday, somehow I will return the favor.

PS  My mom thinks you should marry me because, and I quote, "Y'all are both sick fuckers."

Confused

I thought I would hear from you on my birthday.  No matter what has gone on between us you always call or send a card... at the very least an email.  Even when things were really bad you never forgot my birthday.  Never.

In the weeks leading up to my birthday I wondered how I would respond if I heard from you.  Last year I was pissed to hear from you.  No that's not true.  I was pissed that it took my birthday for you to contact me.  I was hoping, that if I heard from you this year, that I would handle it in a gracious way.  Or that it would just make me have nice thoughts about you.  Or that I wouldn't analyze it to death.  It would just be wishes for a happy birthday and nothing more.

Except you didn't call.  Or send a card.  Or even email.

And I'm OK with that... except when I'm not.

I've finally realized that anything we ever had is really over.  We are no longer lovers and now we aren't even friends.  It's funny how I know I still would have let you back in, at least as a friend, if you had just made the effort.  Silly me.

Things Said Saturday Night*

"Really?  I sort of always thought that your ideal night consisted of drinking beer while fucking."

"Good God do you have to tell everyone about the migraine panties.  Did they scar you for life?"

"That could not have been the first time a girl has cried while having sex with you."

"It is such a good thing that she is pretty."

"I'm so glad we are all so comfortable with one another."

"I realize you have been pretty graphic with your description but I really think you should show us your noonie because I'm envisioning one of those pom-poms that come on tennis socks.  I just don't think you've given us enough intimate information here."

"I think they only grow the grapes in Japan sweetie."

"Did that stupid bitch just call me a stupid bitch?"

"If you throw up on me on my birthday I swear to God I will find a way to have you sold into a sex slave ring."

*Although some were said louder than others.

Things Overheard Saturday Night*

"All she wants to do is fuck and drink beer.  I need some mental stimulation."

"Man I'm telling you, they were the biggest panties I've ever seen.  And she wasn't even embarrassed about it."

"The crazy bitch started crying right as I was about to come.  She said she felt bad about cheating on her boyfriend."

"What are haricot verts?"

"All of a sudden he blew a load in my mouth."

"So I'm lying there and the girl says she's finished.  I was like, 'Aren't you going to do my butt?'  The girl says, 'You want it all done?'  And I say, "Well I did ask for a Brazilian.'  I'm pretty sure she had no idea what she was doing.  She even left a poofball at the top of my clit."

"I want a sweeter wine.  Like... what's it called... rice wine?"  "You do know we aren't at a Japanese restaurant, right?"  "What does Japan have to do with it?"  "I think she means a Riesling."

"She only got Botox because she wants people to think she's still in her twenties."  "Stupid bitch."  "Hey!  It's the stupid bitch's birthday and she can hear you."

"I love you.  I love you so much I promise not to throw up on you."

*And mostly said by people I know.

Hypothetically

Hypothetically if a girl... say a girl like me... were going out with some friends to not celebrate anything at all, especially not a day that shall not be mentioned, do you think she would enjoy a funky little spot known for its cool cocktails or a place that's basically a shack that only serves beer but has great music?

Y'know What Bugs Me?

The Duncan Donuts coffee commercial bugs the ever living shit out of me.  You know the one where the people sort of sing about all the weird coffee names?  OK so they sing and then the voice over guy says something about "ordering your lattes" in English.  Last time I checked latte isn't an English word.

And yes I know the word latte is in the dictionary but it is NOT an English word.  I hate that fucking commercial.

"Oh My God They Were Right, This Was A Horrible Idea"

You know I'm a bit of a drama queen right?  If you don't you must not have been reading for very long.  So for about 2 years now I've been going back and forth about getting a little Botox.  For a really long time now I've had an "11" in between my eyebrows.  Like even when I was 20.  Unfortunately 20 is gone for me and each year the "11" gets a little deeper.  I like to refer to those wrinkles as my twin Grand Canyons.  My whole family has been discouraging the Botox.  I get emails about the dangers of Botox.  My grandmother keeps telling me my eyelids are going to droop.  Horror stories abound.  However, a few months ago my mother was being mean to me and said something along the lines of "Will that cream fix the gash in your forehead?"  (So mean.)  Even though she was kidding it really hurt my feelings.  And it really made me want Botox more than ever. 

The day that shall not be mentioned, you know the one where people should give me packages wrapped with shiny paper and decorated with bows,  well that day is this month.  Perhaps even sometime in this coming week.  Usually right around the day that shall not be mentioned I treat myself to some spa fun.  So I went in and treated myself to a massage and a glycolic facial (this will be important in a minute).  I also scheduled a Botox consultation. 

Really all I wanted to know was that it was going to cost me a million dollars to have the canyons between my eyebrows fixed.  I also wanted to know that I could die from the Botox so that I could avoid ever being tempted again to even think about getting the Botox.  I was pretty much scared to death of getting it because I was certain I would be one of the few people who had horrible side effects. Except the nurse was really funny and made me feel totally at ease and she didn't tell me it would take 45 vials to fix my problem.  In fact she told me it would only take 12.  I quickly calculated the cost in my head and then heard myself saying, "Well you might as well shoot me up with the stuff."  In all honesty, I did not plan on getting Botox.  I promise. 

After my day of beauty I went to the bookstore to meet Future Alcoholic.  I told her all about the "freshening up" I had just done.  So while we were talking my left eye suddenly clouded up.  I freaked out.  "Oh my God they were all right, this was a horrible idea.  I'M GOING BLIND FROM THE BOTOX!!!!!!" 

Yeah not so much.  Remember that facial I had early... I had some moisturizer on my eyelashes.  Plus then I went home and ended up feeling horrible the whole rest of the evening and pretty much convinced myself that I was dying from Botox poisoning.  The moral of the story is that unless my forehead starts looking as smooth as a baby's butt there is no more Botox in my future.  (But never say never.)

Ask Lola - How Do I Stop

Obviously I know that I am not the only girl in the world with boy problems but sometimes it feels like I am.  Recently I got an Ask Lola letter that made me remember there are other girls out there just like me.

Hi Lola,

I have enjoyed reading your blog for a while now.   I have never commented/posted/asked for advice but read your last post ending with wondering why no one asked you for your advice. 

I will try to make this as short as possible.  The good news is I have a therapist so I am not really counting on you much.  The problem with my therapist is that I don't go back in for a while and the last time I went in all we talked about was the election instead of me and my issues.   

Yesterday I was reminded that I have issues so here I am.   Ok so a year ago I was "dating" this creep.   I need to keep it simple so I will try not to delve into too much detail. We had been with each other off and on for a couple of years but from 06-07 we spent lots of time together.   It was very uncommitted but I sort of adored him even though it made no sense.  It was not a healthy relationship at all.  I know it is for the best that it is over now but it does not keep me from having meltdowns like yesterday.

We ended when he met this girl.  I was so stupid deep down I just thought he could never meet anyone better than me.  Prettier? Sure.  Smarter? Yes. Funnier? Probably not.  I just thought he'd never have the same fun we had with anyone else.   But he met this girl who was/is prettier but I can't say much more than that.  It is not about her so I will try to keep my description of her brief.  I just can't really like her though.  (I edited out information about the other girl because I did not want letter writer identified.)   

So here I guess is where I want your advice how do I stop feeling so bad about this.  How do I stop being mad at myself for being such a fool thinking we had something?  Thinking he was just not ready for something real?  He was ready just not with me.  How do I stop wasting time feeling sad about something that was never really existed?  When do I stop thinking ok a year ago this time I was doing this??  Why do I let myself think that way?  What is wrong with me??  I need to move on and sometimes I feel like I have moved on but then others I don't.

Last night I ended up someplace where the last time I’d been was with him and her.   Before they were boyfriend/girlfriend.  I guess they were just flirting and interested.  I guess.   But what an IDIOT I was standing there talking to her trying to be nice and friendly not even realizing I was the fool. How stupid I was listening to him talk about her that night in bed!! (I edited out information about the other girl because I did not want the letter writer identified.)  I was laying there helping him work through deciding to date her. 

It just makes me so mad at myself.  They are this couple.  I am emailing some stranger on the Internet about this.  It is not like I want to be either one of them.  I don't.  I just wish I could get past it all.   It is like my self-esteem has just been sort of erased.  I don't understand why I've allowed it to happen.   

(Information about something the author did to get back at the guy which while VERY funny and pretty fucking smart I felt needed to be edited out because I do not want the letter writer to get in trouble.) 

I know my problems are not unique or really anything beyond PATHETIC. 

Dear Not Quite As Crazy As She May Feel,

Meltdowns, in my opinion are normal.  You have to grieve over the loss of the relationship and it is normal to feel a sense of betrayal.  No one but you can decide the appropriate amount of time to grieve.

It is ok to want to vomit after all this time.  I still want to vomit sometimes over The Boy.  I'll be going along all ok and shit and then BOOM it hits me.

I don't know how to tell you how to stop feeling bad about this.  If I knew the secret to that I'd be rich.  What I can say is you have to stop being mad at yourself.  You liked him and that clouded your judgment.  You aren't the first girl it has happened to and you won't be the last.  Love, or very strong like, makes perfectly sane people crazy.  Embrace your own unique brand of crazy and eventually you'll be able to move on.  You'll have good days and bad days but each day is yours.  If you feel like staying in bed all day one day then do it.  It's ok to feel crappy once in a while.

You do have to stop doing the vindictive thing.  You know what thing I am talking about.  Karma is a bitch.  Somehow it will come back around to you but I give you kudos for being so ingenious.

And you aren't pathetic... just a girl who was fucked over.

Lola

The letter writer then wrote me back and while I am not going to publish all of her letter I am going to publish some key passages because this girl is fucking funny.  Whoever left her was an ass and I think she should start her very own blog.

I do get scared about time passing and still thinking about things. But I am a LOT better than I was.   Last summer I was looking all over for a good lobotomy center.   NO not a full lobotomy.  I’m not crazy.  Just a partial one.  I kept imagining taking some days off from work for my procedure then coming back and just being a little different.   Like only being able to carry on a conversation by repeating what others said to me.   "Good morning, have you had a chance to finish up those reports"   "Good morning I’ve had a chance to finish the reports"   

I could try to come up with a better problem more post worthy if you want.   KLEPTOMANIA!!  I like that one.  Or I could say I worked for the Emperor's Club prostitution ring and now I’m worried b/c I’ve not only lost my high paying job but I might be facing prosecution. 

Seriously I like this girl.  I hope she starts a blog. 

Disclaimer: I am not a licensed therapist and I do not play one on tv but I have lots of opinions and adore sharing them. Follow the advice at your own risk. If you read the blog much you know I suck at pretty much everything but shopping.

Going Back To The Beginning... Sort Of

When I first started this blog I wrote a lot about sex.  It was sort of a sex and depression back and forth there for a while.  There were several reasons for this starting with the fact that I like sex.  A LOT.  Another reason was because I somehow had a mostly male following or at least most of the commenters where male.  (On a side note, fucking Haloscan deleted all the comments on my old Blogger account and there were some good ones.  Also now it looks like I blogged for two years and NO ONE EVER COMMENTED.  Fucking Haloscan.)  I may not be able to keep a boyfriend but I know what boys like... for the most part... sometimes.  Another reason is basically I'm just a dirty bitch

To this day the search term that brings the most people to my site is blowjobs or some form there of.  It makes sense because at one point blowjobs were a very talked about subject around these parts.  It makes me laugh all the different ways people search for blowjobs on the Internet.

How do I make my wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/random girl I met give me a blowjob? 

OK this one may be my favorite.  First of all who would want a blowjob that you have to make someone give you?  (Shut up Macek.)  I mean isn't part of the joy of a blowjob the fact that someone is willing to do the act.  Even, dare I say, eager?  Also is there a website out there telling men how to coerce another person into giving a blowjob?  I've looked and I certainly can't find one.

I want a blowjob by email.

This one has only showed up once in my stats.  Yesterday as a matter of fact.  Um... how does this work?  How could someone think this would work?  Why would someone want this to work?  Of course, obviously, maybe they meant they want to find someone by email to give them a blowjob but I prefer to think they were actually searching for a blowjob by email.  Is this person a germ freak?  Do they want they joy of a blowjob without all the mess.  (Dude if your reading this PLEASE explain it to me.  Also if you find out that this is, in fact possible, email me so I can pass the info on to Macek.)

Email me if you want to give me one.

This was not a search term.  This was an actual comment on one of my old posts.  The comment was left in the past few days and somehow I missed it until yesterday.  (I've been behind on my comments.  Sue me.)  I so want to believe this guy was just trying to be funny but somehow I fear in the back of his dirty, little mind he held out some hope I might just email him up and say, Hey you know that offer you made on my blog?  I'm flying to meet you.  When I get there drop trou immediately because I'll be ready to go."

I'm so glad I don't have a penis and have to worry all the time about blowjobs.

Murph I See Your Spot In Hell And Raise You An Eternity In Purgatory

Yesterday Murph commented on being snarky about happy, happy people.  his story is a sad tale.  I have one that proves Murph and I are cut from the same mold.

I went to a really small private school for K - 12.  Everyone knew everyone and everybody else's business.  There was a girl who competed in beauty pageants.  She started competing in baby beauty pageants and continued competing far into high school.  Except she got a weight problem in high school and had to quit competing.  This girl was a bitch.  I don't mean a bitch like me or the thousand other of snarky girls out there in the world, I mean a real hateful, evil bitch.  She was absolutely hateful.  I really can't explain how mean this girl was and how entitled she acted. 

Even in kindergarten she was mean.  But you know how it is in kindergarten at a small school, your moms make you play together.  So for years I suffered through play dates and sleepovers with this girl.  I really developed a dislike for her.  Girls grow cattier as they grow older and as her weight problem grew we took to calling her Miss Piggy.  (She really did look like Miss Piggy.  The hair.  The being overdressed all the time.  The attitude.)  We also called her Beauty Queen which was exceptionally mean because she could no longer compete in pageants because of her weight gain.  (I mean maybe she could have but she didn't because she didn't like to lose.)  It was mean.  I admit and feel bad about it now but she is also the one who K beat up for being mean to me.  The girl was not nice.  We also made fun of her because she always ate Snickers.  Seriously, the girl had an endless supply of Snickers in her locker.

I dated the same boy on and off from 7th grade until my second year in college.  On one of our breaks, during college, I found out The Beauty Queen had been calling him.  And he had been talking to her.  ALOT!  I called my best friend, who also knew Beauty Queen, related the whole story and then screamed, "I hope the fucking bitch keeps stuffing her fat ass with Snickers and blows up and has a heart attack." 

Not one month later she had something wrong with her heart and eventually had to have a heart transplant.  Now technically I wished a heart attack on her but you see where I'm going with this.  I wished something horrible upon someone and then it happened.

There is no question about it, I am going to Hell.

PS  I've never tried my power out again since then thpough I have been tempted.

Negative Nancy

I'm suspicious of happy people.  I don't really like admitting that but it's true.  Actually I guess I'm suspicious of overly happy people; the normal happy people don't bother me quite so much.  (What is normal happy you might ask?  I don't know how to explain it to you but I know one when I see one.)

I used to work with a girl who was abnormally happy.  Not only was she abnormally happy but she was also a Jesus freak.  Of course now that I think about it maybe being a Jesus freak was what made her abnormally happy.  This girl smiled all the time.  Nothing ever really bothered her.  Well she was bothered when she thought our boss might be being too friendly with someone entirely inappropriate but that's another story for a never day.  She was very close with a family who had six kids.  The mother had a long battle with cancer and eventually she passed away.  This girl was happy because the mom was with God.   I just couldn't see how she thought it was better that the mom was with God instead of her raising her six kids, the youngest of which was three when the mom died.  I never trusted that girl again.

I have a relatively new friend who is an overly happy person.  I've known her about a year.  I guess when we first became friends I didn't notice how happy she was.  If I had I probably would not have really become friends with her.  Acquaintances?  Sure.  Friends?  Probably not.  (Yes, I know I'm a bitch.)  It does not matter what happens she always sees the bright side of things.  And from the outside looking in I'm not sure what she has to be so happy about.  She has three kids, a husband who is never home, a husband who whether he is home or not is very controlling, and money is tight.  Now don't get me wrong, I know money doesn't make a person happy but if I was struggling money wise (wait I am aren't I?) and all that other stuff going on I certainly wouldn't be going around with rainbows shooting out of my ass twenty-four seven.

I just don't understand people like this.  Perhaps it is because I am a negative Nancy.  I mean I don't think I am but the fact that I find these happy people so god awful annoying makes me think I am.  It's like no matter what happens these people smile and sing "The Rainbow Connection" while skipping along merrily.

"My arm got cut off in a horrifying garbage disposal accident."

"Well at least you know you have a good garbage disposal.  La la la la la."

"I just found out my husband is fucking my sister and my mother."

"It just means your soulmate is still out there.  La la la la la."

How can anyone be that fucking happy all the time?  It's not natural to always look on the bright side of things.  Sometimes I just want to punch them in the face but I'm afraid they might just say, "Thanks I really needed that."

The One Where The GrandMommy Loses Her Mind

:ring ring:

L:  Hello?

D:  Hey sugar.  Can you look up something on the Internet for your mother?*

L:  Sure Diddy.**  What does she need?

D:  She has decided that she wants to be a contestant on Deal or No Deal.  Would you be able to find out how someone gets to be a contestant?

L:  I'll do it.  Is it OK if I tell y'all tomorrow night at dinner?

D:  Sure is sweetie.  See you then.  Love you.

L:  I love you too Diddy.  Bye!

The next night at dinner.

L:  I found out that you have to make a 5 minute tape of yourself and your "helpers" and mail it in to Deal or No Deal along with photographs of yourself and your "helpers."  There is also an application you would have to fill out.  If they like you they call you I guess.

M:  Oh thank you honey but your father misunderstood what I wanted.  I want to be one of those scantily clad girls that gets to open the cases.

L:  Oh.  OK.

M:  I think Howie Mandel should have a whole show with senior citizen models.

L:  I'll see what I can find out about all of that.

Later in the same meal.

D:  Sugar will you help me figure out how to switch to digital cable and get DVR?

L:  Sure but I thought y'all weren't going to switch.

D:  Well we are.  And when we do we are getting RFD-TV.

L:  What is RFD-TV?

D:  Don't you worry about it but we are getting it.

M:  It's a farm channel.  We need it because we are such farmers.

D:  We will get RFD-TV, Outdoor Life, and.. and... well there is one more we will get.

M:  Porn.  I'm getting porn.

My mouth, of course, drops open because while my family is quite crazy my grandmother usually is not.

D:  Don't look so shocked, last night she decided it's her dream in life to show her scantily-clad ass to Howie Mandel.

*My grandparents are only called my grandparents on this blog.  In real life they are my parents.  Of course, in real life The Mommy is also my mom.  So confusing.

**Diddy is what I've always called my daddy.  That rap star stole his name.

On another note what the fuck happened to you people asking advice of me?  Did I suck that bad?

ANNNNND why can't I fucking figure out Photoshop?

Don't Let My Mother Find Out About This

Have you seen this bullshit?  What.  The.  Fuck.  Last time I checked being a parent wasn't a paying gig.  This man could earn up $130,000 for doing what any decent father should do... taking care of his child.  And yes I know she is an adult but that doesn't mean her parents still shouldn't take care of her in her time of need. 

It's obvious that Britney is batshit crazy.  She may even be on drugs but mostly I think she's just completely fucked up in the brain.  It seems that any normal parent would just show up and take care of their kid.  Maybe I'm wrong but this disgusts me.  I mean I'm not a lawyer but it seems to me that someone would have to petition the court for him to get paid.  So know Britney is paying for her father to be a father.  Lovely.

But you know, don't tell my mom because she might start angling for a paycheck for dealing with my crazy ass.

PS  On another note, does anyone own an Ipod Touch?  Is it worth it? 

Is It Fair?

Blogging can be hard.  Especially anonymous blogging.  When I first started this blog I was very, very careful not to reveal things about myself.  And it was fucking hard.  Actually I really never thought anyone would ever read my blog so I wasn't that worried but I realized, quickly, that anyone can find almost anything about anyone if you know where to look or you are willing to spend the money.  (Yes, I used to be a stalker in a former lifetime.)  (Yes, Caryn I know I recently had a relapse.)  The point is that once I realized how easily someone might find me, I was very careful about what I wrote so as not to leave obvious clues to my location, my name, or my job.

As time went on I grew lax in disguising certain things about myself.  If an inordinate amount of hits came from certain cities I always grew a bit nervous.  Four times I almost shut this sucker down.  And by shut it down, I don't mean I was going to write some nice "I'm done with blogging" post.  I mean one day you would have shown up here and it just wouldn't be here anymore.

Most days I love it here.  I can come here and say whatever I want and y'all either laugh at me or give me advice or make me feel like I'm normal, whatever that is.  A few months ago I noticed I was receiving hits from someone who I "knew" and was no longer associated with.  Then I received an email from that person.  A person with whom I had a blog friendship.  A friendship that eventually went sour.  After the friendship went sour I found that this person had written some not so nice things about me.  Fair enough - free world and all.  I wrote about my perceptions of what happened.  So I receive an email a few months ago that was seemingly an olive branch.  Well the olive branch turned into "You said blah blah blah and I don't like it."  I took the post down and told the person we probably shouldn't be friends.

Lately, actually not so lately I've just been ignoring it, I've been receiving some hits from what I suspected was a a person who I once had a great deal of respect for.  Respect I have since lost.  Now I know I choose to blog.  I choose to put my life out there for all to see.  Or at least parts of my life out there for all to see.  My problem is there are people that I don't think deserve to know about my life.  I don't share my blog with people from my "real" life.  Sure some people know about it but no one has attempted to find it because they don;t want to violate me.  Those, such as my mom, know that if I wanted them to read what I write I would give them the address.

So here is my problem and this is really directed at one single person, what gives you the right to come here and read about my life when I'm not allowed to know anything about yours?  I'm not good enough to be your friend but you can come here and spy on my life?  Bullshit.  You were so intent on cutting me out of your life yet you come here ALMOST EVERY SINGLE day to read about my life.  Man up, apologize and admit you want to still know me or go the fuck away.  Seriously.