Born Into Darkness


Born into darkness

Chaotic DNA

The storm

She’s my mother

My father

Faraway

No light to follow

Just broken glass

Creeping

Toes tipped

The nightmares

Get past

Tracker disabled

To no avail

Something

It’s pulling

The ripcord

It failed

So utterly true

Undeniably stuck

The connection

Too long

Who knows

Just dumb luck

Then the blindness

Pounds repetition

If not now

When

Escape

This condition

…..Can’t stay to seek

…..Their fleeting permission

Born into darkness

Chaotic DNA

The storm

She’s my mother

My father

Faraway

Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic


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(Left to right: My Bro, Me and My Sis)

Once sweatshirts and blue jeans…

now suits and ties.

Once hitting boys on the playground…

to hitting on boys at the bars.

Once dreams were larger than life…

now you have priorities and goals.

You couldn’t wait to grow up…

and now all you want to do is go back.

 

It’s my party and I’ll make you cry if I want to!


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43 IS AWESOME:

I’m stronger than ever.

My face is holding up (Just don’t look at my hands).

My body isn’t due for an overhaul yet.

I’m fairly certain my mind is in tact.

My words are just as devastating and magical, if not more.

My four kids like me without resorting to bribes….yet.

My husband hasn’t had the itch to bump private parts with anyone else.

I don’t wear mom jeans.

My ass isn’t fat, flat or in need of stick removal.

My breasts still stay up on their own. AND……yes, they’re mine. I have the receipt to prove it.

I have hot flashes, but only in the bedroom.

My friends are the most incredible, genuine, nontoxic bitches around.

My blog buddies still love me, even though I have abandoned them recently. (I left breadcrumbs my darlings!)

I’m mature enough to not have to cover my ass…no need to lie or hide.

I’m secure enough to not give a shit about bullshit.

I’m smart enough to see right through games and false smiles.

I’m nice enough to tolerate those who are intolerable, for the sake of a cause.

Beer and chips are still my friends since I’m working out.

My sense of humor has not left me.

With all its ups, downs, and perfect imperfections, life is amazing. I can’t wait to see what crazy nonsense this year brings for me to hurdle over.

One thing is certain, I will persevere and laugh my way through it all.

If my sticktoitiveness makes you cry along the way, well…..I’m sorry, but this is my life party and I can’t stop to wipe tears.

 

Someone got dementia in the divorces, but it wasn’t me.


Due to distractions, I wasn’t going to write anything tonight,  but I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes a situation or a person with a narcissistic personality disorder warrants a post to be born. In this case, it would be the latter.

To celebrate my anniversary I posted Jodie Foster inspired me.  It seems that one of the spouse-no-mores, (you know) was very troubled by my words.

YOUR VERSION OF REALITY: 

  • You claim to have found the link to this off one of our Facebook pages (1st fucking lie).
  • You said you only knew about the blog because one of the kids reads it (2nd fucking lie). 
  • You said the post was about you (3rd fucking lie or 1st delusion).
  • You  claim that everyone is reading my blog (2nd delusion). Can you make that happen?
  • Then, you called me demented (4th fucking lie, 3rd delusion and a total ignorance for vocabulary).

ACTUAL REALITY:

  • I rarely link one of these posts  to  a personal Facebook account. Believe it or not, this blog isn’t for everyone. AND….I didn’t link this one. Besides, we’re not FB friends with you! I do however have a lovely blog about my beautiful son if you want to stalk visit that one: A Dose of Justice. 
  • The kids know they aren’t allowed to read this blog. I have total faith in them. IF……. I’m wrong, then having one be a deceitful sneaky person, should concern you more than my adult blog. 
  • Seriously? The post was about myself and my amazing husband, who I have rocking sex with all the time. Do you need me to repeat anything? Sorry, but you didn’t even make the highlight reel. A little full of ourselves, are we?
  • I have it on good authority that half of Brazil is not quite aware of my blog. You got your facts wrong.
  • So let’s address the demented comment. Shall we??!!?? I think you need the definition of the word.

(bing.com · Bing Dictionary)

de·ment·ed

[ di méntəd ]

  1. entirely irrational: completely unreasonable or lacking any sense of the consequences of actions taken
  2. affected with dementia: affected by the loss of intellectual functions that is associated with dementia

WHAT I THINK IS DEMENTED:

  • To lie so naturally, you can’t recognize the truth anymore.
  • To use manipulation (guilt, threats, fear, anger) with a child/children to feel superior.
  • To suggest your spouse-no-more has something sexually wrong with them because they didn’t want to touch you anymore. HINT: It’s called sexual attraction.
  • To pretend you didn’t break your wedding vows over and over again, use physical force in the relationship, and degrade your spouse-no-more with every word and action.
  • To act like everything bad you did, your spouse-no-more actually did when telling “stories”.
  • To believe that anyone with “real” self-esteem, who isn’t socially, emotionally and physically constipated, is DEMENTED.
  • LASTLY…….To view my blog. Did you really think you would like it? HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW!!!!!!

 

Cooking and singing lead to sex talk.


SO…….Thing 1 (12-years-old) was watching reality television with me last night. It doesn’t seem surprising that reality TV would lend itself to sexual issues, but we weren’t  watching Bad Girls or The Bachelor/ette. AND…….Big Brother doesn’t come on for a few more months. I thought I was safe, but clearly, I was wrong.

WE WERE WATCHING:

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On this show,  aspiring or established chefs compete with merely the taste of their food to get who the hell knows what.  Seriously,  I haven’t gotten far enough into the show to care. BUT……..Last night a woman said the judges would have a mouth orgasm when they tasted her food. For a second, I thought it had escaped him. Then, Thing 1 asks: “What’s an orgasm?”

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Suddenly, I’m in an awkward position. Do I pretend I don’t hear him and change the subject? Do I tell him not to worry about it and forget he heard that word? THEN……. I think about him asking some kid in school who eats his own earwax. What the fuck is that dude gonna say? Do I really want my kid asking dumbasses at school what shit means? Hells no!!

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That won’t work! I don’t want to be the cause of kids around America substituting the word imagination with masturbation.

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Oh my goodness. I definitely don’t want to go there.

ME: You don’t need to say that word. It’s a sex word.

Thing 1: Oh?

ME: It has to do with feeling good.

Thing 1: (looks at me as if to need more information)

ME: Boys your age or a bit older can make themselves feel good all on their own in the privacy of their room.

Thing 1: (red faced and clearly uncomfortable….) Okay mom. I’m good. Let’s stop talking about this now.

After that little adventure, WE MOVED ON TO:

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On of the girls trying out was a young single mom. She began talking about her struggles being so young and raising a child on her own.

Thing 1: That was really dumb not waiting to have a kid. People should wait.

ME:  (pumped up from my previous little convo) I don’t think it was thought out. Things like that happen when people are too busy having fun and not being careful.

Thing 1: Well, I’m never going to do stuff like that.

ME: You say that now, but you’ll see a girl some day and get really excited about touching her boobies and that will lead to something else.

Thing 1: (uncomfortable laughing)

ME: Don’t do something stupid and mess up your life or some girl’s life. Be good or be safe.

Thing 1: Okay. I’m not going to do anything.

ME: Well…..If you aren’t smart, the best case…..you get an infection that requires the doctor. It’s possible you get some girl pregnant and then life as you know it……bye, bye. Worst case is a disease that kills you. It might take a few years, but you’ll die. Just saying.

Thing 1: I’m going to bed mom. (….20 minutes earlier than his bedtime)

OKAY……..So who wants me to talk to their kids about the birds and the bees? What about sex stuff?

Are you giving me the pregnant eye?


My first thought is: “Not in a million years!”.

Kissing this dude would be like giving oral sex to my dryer’s lint tray.

Someone, out there, reading this, knows for sure.

AND….some, might be turned on, but I digress.

Crazy fetish?

My second thought is: Smashup!”

I want to do what Reese’s did for peanut butter and chocolate.

Say what?

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Idea: Let’s put two things together and make something magical.

Condoms and Glasses

Still don’t see where this is going?

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Condom Glasses!

(Please help me come up with a wonderful name for this new product.)

They deploy at the exact moment of visual arousal.

Why do we need these you ask?

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For those women, you know the ones……..

”I get pregnant every time someone looks at me.”

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We have to have some type of protection, some type of birth control for men  who have the power to release microscopic sperm from their eyes.  This is quite an epidemic people. It  is also quite reckless. It’s astonishing how many children are brought into this world because someone looked at their momma in the wrong way. What’s even more disturbing is this: How does that child even know who his/her daddy is? It’s going to take a retinal scan on the Maury Povich show to straighten that shit out. AND seriously……The chances of finding the “baby daddy” are pretty slim. God help you if you are identified as giving someone “the pregnant eye”. You can look forward to child support for that kid and probably hundreds more. If you are capable of giving the pregnant eye to one, then chances are, you’ve given it to another.  Aren’t their enough excuses to put kids in therapy without adding this to the list?

SO…Let’s come up with a fabulous name.

Let’s get this product out in the world.

AND…Let’s start protecting ourselves.

I wonder what the Sharks would think?

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Jodie Foster inspired me.


Today is my four-year wedding anniversary. Condolences can be sent to my husband at a later date.

Lorre Giving Speech

Making it through another year of marriage is amazing.

I’m proud to say, I’ve handled my relationship almost completely sober, 100% drug-free and without stuffing my face with Crisco frosted Twinkies.

We’ve had our ups and down. We fight like cats and dogs, but we make up like sex-starved teens with better stamina.

There are some people I’d like to thank who made this union possible. First, I’d like to thank my ex-husband.

If it weren’t for his penis constantly popping out of his pants and going into others, I might still be in an unsatisfying marriage.

Next, I’d like to thank my husband’s ex.

Due to the high probability that we’ll end up as victims on an episode of Snapped, we must be delicate.

Thanks for your “inappropriate” relationships.

After my speech, please remind me to buy a Taser and get a restraining order.

Anyway……

I’m blessed to have a husband who doesn’t mind having a used/pre-owned car.

Yes. I did just say that about myself. BUT…I’ve got plenty of mileage left.

As my hubby says: “We’ll never get a divorce. The sex alone will keep me here.”

He can use this almost 43 year-old with four kids all he wants.

He doesn’t mind if I work outside or inside the home. I don’t mind if he uses neck ties or bungee cords.

It doesn’t get much better than that kids.

I love you Mr. Articles of Absurdity!

Happy No Divorcesary!

(…thanks for loaning me the dress Jodi.)

Life Scream


It’s designed just to piss you off

To  confuse

To depress

To control

To break

It’s a teaser, a trick

Screw you and your mind-fuck

What a prick

Just a bitch of a time warp

Keep it straight

Lay down low

Stand up tall

Wait your turn

It’s a jump in the line

With these rules to ride

Lost my mind

It’s limited and flawed

No guarantee

No returns

No playback

No seconds

Curses wrapping the dream

That’s some strange shit

Now……I’ll scream

(11/03/2012….Lorre)

Wordless-ish Wednesday: What a stinker!

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Toilet Dump 001