Category Archives: Satisfaction

Occupied

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2

“Don’t let someone occupy space in your heart or in your head who never deserved a second glance”- ♥

Bottom line? I knew better.

More than that? I was warned.

Worse than anything? He bought the domain name vaginahoarder.com lying next to me with the intention to sell numbered t-shirts and coffee mugs.

That should have been the last time I wasted my pretty green eyes on him…. but it wasn’t.

Call me an idiot, a glutton for punishment or tie it up neatly with a cute little humiliating bow.

It was amazing every time I was standing right in front of him. He’s thoughtful. He’s sweet and charming and you feel like the only thing on his mind… until you drive away and someone pulls in to take your place on sheets still hot from your devotion.

I got a call from a girlfriend this morning. He propositioned her last night. That’s how much my words hit home. She told me because she didn’t want me to hear it from anyone else, and what she said next really made me feel better for the first time.

S- I realized I could take advantage of him for free drinks. I knew I could flirt with him and he’d pay for my whole evening. It just wasn’t worth it because I love you and you’re amazing and he’s absolutely unforgivable.

I got off the phone and laughed. For the first time it really hit me. He’s really that awful. He’s really that worthless and he really cares that little about the sweet women that get caught up in his web.

Speaking of webs… my darling Anthony called to read me The Spider & The Fly. I seriously have the best friends, ever.

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; 
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly. 
“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, 
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in!” 
Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said, 
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”

Mary Howitt knew him or at least of the horrible spiders he patterns his life after. So did I, for that matter- because it’s one of my favorite books. I climbed out of bed this morning and went looking for it.  Laughing over the pictures and brimming with my own life coursing through my veins while Anthony read me his favorite highlights and I watched the sun come up.

Like it or not, this arrogant man has occupied a space in my heart that I couldn’t eradicate him from. I’ve tried. I’ve dated, I’ve flown thousands of miles and still thought about him on the shores of paradise island with the man I thought would be my someday husband. I’ve done everything I could think to do, to shake this horrible crush.


The Spider turned around about, and went into his den, 
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again: 
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, 
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly. 
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing, 
“Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; 
Your robes are green and purple — there’s a crest upon your head; 
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!”

So I should thank him, because he did what I couldn’t do. He made me hate him so much I will never look him in the face again.

I wont settle for a hoarder- ever again. I will never take his infidelity personally. I will never contribute another dollar to his existence.

More than that?

I will thrive in his absence. I will blossom in my new life and new job, surrounded by dear friends and a bunch of new ones. I’ll make getting over him look so good it’s cruel.

The difference between him and I is that I care about my character and the effect I have on people around me. I love deeply and treasure the people who respect and return those feelings. I’m not happy with myself when I sink to the level of a douche bag or a friend who would ever consider going near the guy who mopped the floor with me. Twice. I’m working my ass off to be more positive, to fill my life with good things and to be contagiously happy to the people around me. I want to be nicer. I want to steal the nasty words out of the mouths of the people who hate me. That’s my goal and he only drags me further from realizing it.

So I got hurt. So my heart got tossed into the fire, again… that’s not all that went up in flames.

He’s laughed and introduced himself as the hoarder. He’s mocked me to my face. He’s 86′d me for using his name when it’s his own damn fault everyone already knows who he is.

I was raised to write a thank you note when someone has done me a favor, and this is probably the best one anyone has ever done for me.

Dear Hoarder,

Thank you. For all the disappointment and tears I’ve wasted on you. Thank you for showing me, once and for all- that you’re not worth any of it.

Thank you for showing me who my real friends are. Thank you for showing me who isn’t. Thank you for fucking the worst of them.

Thank you for making Thomas Murray look like a nice person… you make my whole Puerto Rican nightmare lapse in good judgement look like a Make-A-Wish trip to Disneyland.

Thank you for 86′ing me from your presence. I’ve been a glutton for punishment and you’ve just saved me from myself. If you meant it as an insult, perhaps you should look in the mirror and take stock of your flawed character. I appreciate it more than a dozen roses- and let’s be honest… if you sent roses to all the women you owe them to, you’d have to sell your car to cover the bill.

Thank you, a million times over and then some. For whatever reason and perhaps it’s my own flawed character rearing her ugly head- I learn lessons the best when they hurt the most. You may have broken my heart, but you made me a fortune in the process. Hoard on, hoarder.

I loved you. I thought you were a really amazing man. Thank you for showing me how wrong I was- and thank you for not falling in love with me. I deserve so much better than you.

You may have disrespected, discounted and underestimated me… but when I insulted you? You bought the domain. I’m just sayin’…

Might I suggest a tattoo? Cause you’re kinda known for being a hoarder now, and that’s got to make hoarding a little difficult. Perhaps you should just run with it, because you clearly have a second set of balls where your soul should be.

Thank you, for showing me just how bad a man can be. Thank you for teaching me what the bottom of the barrel looks like.

Oh and you’re welcome.

Your friends like me, your dog loves me and the women you lie to, read my blog.

Good luck, and thanks again- I’d say I owe you one, but I’d rather leave you with an ironic bit of truth you don’t know about me.

My legal first name is actually Ashley.

Peace out- motherfucker- and really… go buy yourself a chin.

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Learning Faith

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5

I got the job I really wanted today. With my unemployment not even projected to arrive for another 4-5 weeks? I am so thankful I actually clapped my hands when she told me.

I’ll be working with a lot of people I already love and respect in a much more mature atmosphere. I’ll no longer be the oldest server. I like both of the people who hired me enough to invite them to dinner.

… and they’re normal and professional enough to accept. The atmosphere at my last job was very different. I never would have thought to invite either of my bosses to dinner because they work overtime to keep themselves separate from the staff. A very us vs. them sort of feeling.

She even invited me to a party for the staff. She’s openly friendly and I feel my soul exhale. I’m so excited. I got it. I applied for the one I wanted most, first… and I’ll be working there from now on.

Amen… and thank God.

I drove home slowly enough to annoy the other drivers on the road, beaming; and really truly believing in myself again. I’ve been reciting the Desiderata in my head for two weeks, reminding myself constantly that many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. I’ve spent time with my friends, I’ve reconnected with my mama and I’ve remembered who I really and truly am.

I’ve washed my hands of a nightmare only to wake up in my very own dream coming true.

A job better suited to me and where and who I want to be. A clear view of the real friends in my life. A solid view of myself as a single unit only to realize how much happiness there can be found in enjoying your own company without worrying about it always just being you, yourself, and well… you. I’m a helluva lot of fun. It’s ok if it’s always just me.

I don’t mind dancing alone.

I put the pathways into my garden. I planted potatoes and onions. I danced around the rows and sang at the top of my lungs to the amusement of the passersby. I let myself really celebrate my own victory because it’s been a damn scary two weeks and I. Am. So. Excited.

My best friend called and we had to scream on the phone for a while.

Learning to have faith has been difficult for me. I’ve faced a ridiculous amount of challenges in the last year and I’ve let myself drown in anger and fear too many times to count. I’d lost sight of the fact that a little faith goes a long way… and a lot of faith moves mountains.

What a fanfreakin-tastic day.

Sorry about your bad luck…

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I’m fed up with stupid people. I’m annoyed by idiots.

More than anything? I’m inconvenienced by the ignorant and I’m frustrated enough to vent a little.

I’m blissfully happy these days. Drowning in domestic bliss and completely sunburned from hours in the dirt and doing facials with my daughter and her best friend after their school dance.

Pizza and giggles. Aunt MSOK came over to do her hair magic and the two of us giggled in the middle of my acre of dirt. Holy shit it’s huge. She loves my design. I love her.

Life is made so much better by the friends that mean the most. She’s more than my friend, she’s my sister. She knows everything there is to know… even the big stuff. Even the stuff you don’t tell anyone…. and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I drive her insane whining about the same guy, and she works overtime to listen and burn his bridges to the ground- with truth.

Life is about spending it with people that love you, not people that judge you. I don’t have time for anyone who chooses to wear their judgy panties. No time at all… those bitches can hang out with the hoarders. They deserve each other.

That said. I’m about to get a little mad and a lot honest.

To my single friends. It’s very simple if you want to keep him/her.. It’s all about making them wonder if you like them or not. That’s all it is. Don’t respond to phone calls or texts. Don’t have sex with him or her. Torture them with your feigned disinterest based indecision… and wa-la! They’re all yours.  Yeah… fuck that tragic bit of post-highschool histrionics. I like sharks. I like men who see something they want and actively pursue it. I like men that value having exclusive rights. In other words… we have to play the crazy manipulative stalker card or we lose? No. Give me a skilled hunter gatherer, thanks.

Anytime, anywhere… as a woman… when you’re treated like a cheap paper napkin from the KFC drive-through? It hurts.When your sensitive lightweight napkin self has to continually float through his presence… it’s even worse. The moral of the story? If he treats you like a shitty napkin… look at him for the disease carrying controlled substance he is/should be. Wash your hands… with bleach. Pour the rest of the gallon in the bathtub and climb in. Sorry about your bad luck- you should have listened to that snake charmer story more closely…. because you’ve officially been charmed… by a snake. Until it’s on Facebook? It’s not real. Sorry about your bad luck again- if you’re not given the public nod? It’s because there are other women on his FB that he bangs… or wants to.

To the lady at the gas station, bank, bar, grocery store…etc… that hates me because I’m thinner, prettier, etc…than them. Fuck you. I was 265 lbs at my heaviest and I worked my ass off LITERALLY. I’d like to get back down to my goal weight because I enjoy the attention. So there. That’s honest. Wanna be hotter? Lose weight. Wanna open a new page on the menu? Don’t eat dessert, don’t have a drink and run to the grocery store instead of drive.

Nobody said it didn’t suck- and trust me, you’ll end up hating those naturally skinny bitches ten times more. Think about it though. They’re sober, exhausted and they date the worst of the worst of the douche bags because the GQ model guys are the biggest assholes of all time. Popped collar? No. In fact I think I threw up in my mouth a little just typing that. Beyond all that, don’t be a bitch. Don’t glare at me because you’re jealous. Sorry about your bad luck, try harder and FYI- Haterade is high in calories. Kick the habit, or better yet? Love yourself enough that you don’t have to hate anyone else because you don’t. Fix it or flaunt it- or fuck right off.

To my unhappily married friends… where do I even begin… oh I know. Leave each other the fuck alone. The rest of us are tired of hearing you bitch about it. Sorry it didn’t work out, sorry you hate each other now SHUT THE FUCK UP and break up already. Sorry he cheated, sorry you did, sorry you both ARE. I DON’T CARE!!! I shovel my own snow. I haul my own trash. I manage. I don’t love it and I’d love to be some spoiled chick with auto start and a heated driveway- but I’m not. So I shut up and do it. The same goes for marriage. If you signed on for eternal financial security and sex on demand- QUIT BITCHING. If you don’t want to sign on anymore, then sign the fuck out. It’s that simple. If you’re torturing each other you are wasting years of your lives being unhappy. More than that? You’re torturing the fuck out of everyone around you. Spare us if you don’t give a shit enough about yourselves anymore. Don’t fool yourself- we all think of ways to avoid hanging out with you because of it. Sorry about your bad luck, call a divorce attorney and end your marriage before your friends DIVORCE you. We’re over it.

To the shitty bosses… and really? Nothing is more disappointing. You miss spelling bees, dance recitals and your baby losing a tooth- only for the tooth fairy to have to fly to Grandma’s. You miss priceless moments in your life for these assholes and it doesn’t mean a thing. You’re the means to an end and just another name on the payroll. If you never came to work again, they wouldn’t notice. The hypocritical men and women that abuse the power they hold in being able to decimate your financial security. The boss that gossips and talks about the weight of his employees. The one that closes his eyes to it all. The one that is an overpowered monster and looks for your vulnerabilities.  The one who propositions you sexually. The one that drinks on the job. The one that makes everything worse when he’s on the floor. The one that hits on the customers. The one that doesn’t respect you enough to move out of your way. We’ve all had one. We all know “that” guy.

I’m sorry about your bad luck, it’s the social network/blog age and if you don’t treat people kindly or with some modicum of respect? They can have an opinion about that could make you look like the…well… jerk you are. As they say- opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. Unfortunately for the bad guys? Opinions are a lot louder now than they used to be. Fortunately- there’s a very simple way to solve all this. Be kind. Be appreciative. Be understanding and be considerate of how your choices affect the lives of others. Be thankful for the people who make your dreams come true, because in the end it wont matter how much money you made- it will matter what kind of character you built.

Come on… be less annoying and be more happy. ♥ Happy beats being pissed off, every time.

Scary Happy

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I’m back to my infectiously happy self. I’m beaming. People everywhere tease me and ask about the new guy in my life. I blush.

Nope. No guy. No man. Nada, nada, nada…. No gracias.

It’s me, I’m back.

I’ve missed me. It’s like coming out of a fog. I’m baking. Sewing. Planting. Transplanting…. and walking the five minutes to my daughter’s school every day to pick her up. I’m so filled with joy at having these moments back that my chest aches a little. We’re cooking dinner together and taking bike rides afterward.

I’ve lost 12 pounds not being surrounded by fried food. I have a lovely tan from spending so much time in the greenhouse. My tomato plants are thriving and I spend my mornings dancing in the greenhouse in a swimsuit, watering my little green children. I’m beside myself with joy.

My finger & toenails are painted. My dishes are done and the laundry is clean, folded and put away. I’ve had time to go to the grocery store and I’ve been making marshmallows for the market this weekend. I’m getting ready for a yard sale. I’m working with what I have until I start working again.

Not dating, and more importantly taking the time to actually write about my Puerto Rican nightmare. I’m taking the next two weeks offline. Unplugging the computer and shutting off the DirectTv. Diving in to this rare opportunity to be the housewife I used to be and get my own home and life in order. Building fences and baking cookies. Slipping back into a dress and heels, my uniform of choice.

I’d gotten lost. I forgot to do what really makes me happy and the rest falls into place. I don’t want to date some idiot. I don’t want to drink after work with coworkers every night my daughter is gone. Yeah the house is empty but it’s also a pretty cool place to hang out, and I’m happier at home. I’ve been sewing curtains and diaper covers and monsters.

I’ve been getting rid of the excess in our lives and in our house so that we have less upkeep.

and I’ve been spending some serious time playing Bejeweled.

Unemployment is absolutely terrifying when you’re a single mom, and it’s going to be another 5 weeks before my unemployment starts to come in. Yikes… but I love a challenge and I’m resourceful as hell when it comes to being broke. I dated an unemployed hippie for 7 years. I could impress the world with how many things I can do with rice. :)

I’m living my life again- and not someone elses. I have clean sheets on my bed and clean socks in the drawer. Homemade spearmint soap in the shower and freshly bleached towels.

I’m a domestic hurricane of happiness, and it feels SO fantastic.

I’ve lost some friends, enemies and a job… but I’ve gained my life, my happiness and my self respect back.

Life is uncertain, but it is so good when you’re living true to yourself. It’s a scary good change and such a blessing in disguise.

This too shall pass, so while it’s here I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it. ♥

I’m spending time with dear girlfriends- and you know what they say… you find out who the real ones are when the chips are down. I’ve heard from a few of my favorite customers expressing their appreciation and someone left a six pack of beer on my porch the other day.

Simple kindness and delighting in the simple things in life reminds me what is truly important.

We’re going to go see the new baby chicks that hatched in my mama’s chicken yard this week and to collect eggs. I’m begging little red to let me go along on the field trip with her school tomorrow. I realize all the things I’ve missed that are so important and so vital to life being worth anything at the end of the day.

I’m breathing again, smiling and I’m grateful. It’s good to be back. ♥

Eyes wide open…

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Worrying about money keeps me up at night. Blech. Yuck. Blah. Nothing is more pointless then ruining tomorrow worrying about today.

But it happens every time, without fail.

So yawn…. I’m sleepy and facing hour after hour of transplanting tomatoes, planting flowers and weeding… an acre. Good grief.

I’m knee deep in thistle when my phone buzzes against my chest and it’s another internet dating email. I haven’t deleted one profile purely to remind myself why it’s NOT a good idea to date strangers.

I fully embrace my finely tuned procrastination skills and today is no exception. I decided to take a break and came inside to check my email.

Only to find this little gem. lol… and by gem, I mean laughable example of self aggrandizing delusion. Maybe it’s Thomas? lol… He’s 36, and a veritable pervert, trolling for nothing more than sex with a ridiculous profile too tragic to publicize. Eww.

“Yo- Ok this is your final chance.. I mean,usually you would have to hit a pawn shop,or a titty bar to find a gentleman of my caliber and standing in this comunity.. And you have repeatedly let this slip away..”

Um. I’m torn. I’m sorely tempted to email him back to tell him to watch me do it again… but this almost requires more. What on earth makes some of these weirdos feel so compelled to chastise me for “letting them get away”? Sorry if I’m just not interested in dating the mayor of Crazytown.

As soon as you sign into these things, somewhere something pops up to let everyone know you’re online. Lovely. The creepers come flying at me with multiple chat boxes in minutes and I accidentally clicked on one. Up pops his nether regions and a message that says…

D- Wanna bang?

Good grief and yuck. No I do not. Ever. In fact I may take a break from sewing the diaper covers I’m working on to go shower. These internet weirdos make you feel dirty WITHOUT even meeting them.

What happens in their lives to make them this way? What is it with men? I swear- my tolerance for douche baggery has officially worn out and I could not be less interested in dating these losers if I were a lesbian.

It only got worse. As I was typing a rather scathing retort to douche bag number 1, two more emails came in.

Apparently someone left the gate open at Asshat Farm this morning, because this guy spent some serious time ranting at me. First two emails from him, one right after the other. Brace yourselves… this guy is going to be on the receiving end of my stress. He asked for it. Look.

W- Hi! Ok right to the point you are. Never seen a profile like yours before. Am I that guy! Are you that GIRL! lol. I thought all you women looked at the pretty flowers and decided who your partner is going to be. About 90% of you women don’t study and do your homework. You all end up picking Canadian Thistle or Knap weed, both have pretty purple flowers but a pain in the butt in the garden! You know what we all have in commen? We are all made of energy, energy attracts same energy. This day and age we want the person to be the right height, right looks, right hair, right eyes, right age! Do you think that energy cares about all that? That is the reason why our society is all screwed up by magazines, TV, and Media. We are programmed to think that we have to have physical perfection and not energy perfection, so do you think your THAT GIRL? You’ll probably be like the rest and say what a jerk I am because I am to straight forward. I can say by looking at your profile and reading what little you have to say and being pissed off, I would bet 10 to 1 odds that you have no clue yourself because all the pretty boys your after run from you, huh? I am older but I have been around the block more then once, you think you can look at me from your energy and heart that we could have the same energy? If not and your eyes have been programmed to only look at the pretty purple flowers, I have to say good luck. If your heart is big, give me a message and lets chat. Woody

W- Oh the other thing! I would never take you out on a date! I would take you to a movie where you can’t ask me about half a billion questions. Maybe fishing, you start talking, I would say shhhhhh your scaring the fish! If you say coffee, I would only laugh because that is a BS way to meet, it is a hit and run tactic. Chew on that and really see if you know what a real man is? Woody

Let me get this straight. All women want pretty flowers and are attracted to knapweed? Just for arguments sake, this is what knapweed looks like:

Um… perhaps it’s just me and my trillion flowers in my big ol’ garden… but I don’t find it pretty- not to mention it’s a noxious weed and hurts like hell if you pull it with bare hands. At any rate… don’t even get me started on thistle, which I combat in my garden every day. Yeah… give me the nasty impossible to kill weed that leaves me with feet full of tiny slivers each year. I want that one.

But… considering the men I’ve dated, perhaps I have been picking weeds over flowers. He may have a point there. Frankly- my favorite flowers have to be flown in, I’m damn high maintenance in that regard. This man is NOWHERE near the tuberose I love so much. He’s more like runty little dandelion that keeps getting choked out by the knapweed.

To make things worse… he’s a Raiders fan. I couldn’t date a Raiders fan if he were a walking sweettalking Adonis. No. I’m a football girl and I hate the Raiders. Yuck. No. I will never understand how these idiots think that insulting a woman or denigrating her character or immediately assuming she’s a stuck up bitch purely because she’s not interested, is ever going to work.

Which is when I get to the line that says it all.

“You’ll probably be like the rest and say what a jerk I am because I am to straight forward.”

No, sir… I’m going to tell you a whole lot more than you want to know about yourself. Right after I mock you on the internet and call you out for the rude little asshole you are, bad taste in football even, ew. Get your man card out, I’m about to burn it.

Oy VEY. This is his everyday attempt? Seriously? He’s busy worrying about weeds and he should be learning how to be polite, or at least take the standard approach and start with less than a novel-long rant about the men that are outdoing him.

Lol… he’s willing to bet 10 to 1 odds that my favorite pretty boys run from me? Huh… I am unemployed and that’s a damn quick way to make some money. I have a right mind to take him up on that bet. What an amazing statement to make with the actual idea that it’s going to illicit a positive response. Someone should warn him he just barked up the very wrong tree. Perhaps my response will have him re-examining his approach. Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.

The second email just defies my ability to be nice. I must insult this man. It’s my duty. He’ll never take me on a date or he’ll take me to a movie or fishing to shut me up? Oh boy… what a gem. He’s right about the coffee though- that’s precisely why it’s a perfect first internet date. Less is ALWAYS more.

A real man… now that was the straw that broke the camels back. He’s not expecting this, that’s for sure.

Dear Woody,

Where do I even start… oh and you’re welcome, ahead of time. Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother responding when I’m not interested but for the good of all single womankind, I’m making an exception.

You seem to equate being rude with being straight forward, so please enjoy my “straight forward” response.

First and foremost, contacting someone for the first time with your mouth full of insults, preconceived notions and criticism will get you exactly what you deserve… the painful truth. I’ll happily take you up on that bet, and with 10-1 odds, maybe I’ll take a vacation with one of those “pretty boys” you’re so threatened by.

Better yet? I’ll buy a sexy little black dress that says “Raiders Suck”. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to post a picture so you can see what a smart woman looks like. I’ll take special joy watching my Chargers kick your ass this year. Can’t wait.

Men who post pictures of their children on their internet dating profile should be given a free shot of anti-freeze, IJS.

As for dating me? Not only would I not suffer through a cup of coffee with you, if you had the balls to shhhh me fishing? I’d throw your short fat ass off the boat and let you swim back to shore. It doesn’t look like you’d make it. I believe that’s the definition of famous last words. I don’t have a billion questions for you, but you’d need a handgun and chloroform to get me alone in a dark room, even a movie theater full of pretty boys.

As a matter of fact? I am THAT girl. I’m funny, sweet & thoughtful. I am an amazing girlfriend and a great mother.

Better than that? I’m a writer, and your lame, insulting and unsolicited bullshit has been blogged for a few hundred of my closest friends.

I’m the whole package, and you sir, are a douchebag. Go climb back under your rock before you end up drowning on your swim back to shore.

Oh and good luck to you too. Luck is all that could save you, in my opinion. Luck or a nice Russian mail-order bride catalog, a handgun or a successful abduction. I’d suggest you start by paying for it first.

I don’t think you’re a jerk for being straight forward- I think you’re a spineless weasely asshole who likes to belittle women. Being a jerk would be a huge improvement for you. Perhaps you should start with a little counseling and working on your relationship with your mother, because DUDE… this SCREAMS mommy issues.

Have a nice day!

J

Good Lord. I may die a born-again virgin.