I've been playing hooky a bit. Zoe and I have had the dregs. One or both of us keeps getting either the pukes, the runs, or just the blahs.
And I can't get her to calm down at night or wake up in the morning. We are all kinds of fucked up.
Anyone ever take Wellbutrin? My doc prescribed it years ago for weight loss, but I never really took it long enough. I'm so sick of taking pills but now I'm back on eating clean and I feel like a cow. I heard Adderall does the same thing.
Anyway, I've not been much up for writing lately. I also haven't been reading much lately either as I'm training YET AGAIN another person to help with the editing. Which means she's in my office for about half a day. Cuts into my fuck off time.
Anyway, I'm off for now. It's late and Z is putting lotion on her entire body.
Ok, I just read this. I'm rather spastic. I promise to catch up soon enough.
I'll start writing again. Just hella busy. Quick updates.
1. Babysat 3 kids all weekend. Two fours and a two. I'm glad I only have one. I feel insane.
2. Took yesterday off even though our Scrooge McGreedy company didn't have it as a holiday. Ran errands, bought panties and other such goodness. Cooked.
3. Been eating better. Started working out again.
4. Quit caffeine. I have the worst detox headache. I don't know if that part I can do.
5. Met this dude. Long story. He's into tiny chicks. Of which I never will be. Sorry dude.
6. I am going to the gym tonight. I need some major encouragement. Good thing Zoe loves it and is going to MAKE me go regardless.
I'm hungry for lunch and it's only 10am.
I'm too busy to be doing this, but I miss you all.
Ciao
Ok. Officially a shit day. Happy Motherfucking Valentines Day!
I spent some of this morning talking to my divorce attorney's office. I'm pulling the trigger on that one.
I have stayed married because Zoe's dad lost his job about a year ago and his health insurance. He was kind enough to keep me on his for about three years, and I didn't want him to be without insurance. It didn't cost all that much (bout fifty a month), and I knew he was looking for work.
I'm an asshole, but we all know that.
Anyway, I'm the kind of person that if you are trying to do the right thing, I don't mind giving you a helping hand if I can do it.
So I get this call from his current girlfriend. She wants to get together to give me Zoe's stuff. I knew the convo would go downhill from there. I like this girl. She's a nice girl. Young, but nice. Zoe's dad seemed to get his shit together when he started dating her over a year ago, and he stopped being an asshole to me. She is a former Marine and I knew that when Zoe would visit him, she took great care of her and I knew that Zoe loved her.
Anyway, dude really wants to be on a Jerry Springer episode.
Apparently Mr. Iowethewholefuckingworldmoney (including me for about $600) is currently in the Bahamas with is Bro and Sis. He got a free trip from his bro, so I don't blame him from going. When his life sucks, he always tries to bail. It's his MO.
But he owes his girlfriend about 4K because for months he was only taking home like 400 bucks a month after they take out his child support - that is when he was working. Which was sporadically.
Since he owes everyone money, dude has zero business being on vacation. He's currently in New York for the specific purpose of making some money. She tells me that his mom said (yeah, she got his mom all involved in his biz) that he hasn't been doing anything up there. Great. Asshole. He's also been "forgetting" his cell phone or not calling her back.
I think he's up there with some chick or he's doing drugs.
She told me that over a year ago, he was going to get this job with Coke, but flunked the drug test. Oh joy.
I've been paying his fucking health insurance when he could have had a sweet benny package with Coke? But because he wants to be a pothead at 45 and can't stop using long enough to take a fucking drug test... shit... fucking bullshit motherfucking fuck.
So, get this, the other thing is that he knocked up his girlfriend and left town. She says she's not going to have the baby (uh. stupid ass. he's already got five motherfucking kids, you'd think you'd take charge of your own uterus with a weapon like that). I told her that not bearing his mutant child is the smartest thing she could do for herself. I love Zoe, but sometimes I wonder where I'd be if I'd not done that. I love that kid but I'm doing a horrible job because I need a mom's night off. A real one. Like overnight. By someone I don't feel horrible for letting her watch my child (guilt. I feel guilty sticking my friends with my demon spawn)
Anyway, I'm rambling. I need to eat dinner.
Cliff notes: I'm getting divorced. My ex thinks he's supposed to populate the universe even though he doesn't have a job. He's going to stay in NY because he has no friends and his g/f doesn't want him back. I'm tired and wish I would win the lottery so I could just take a day off.
And FUCK Valentines Day. You all suck. Fuck you and your flowers and cards and balloons and stuff. I wasn't sad about it until 92304183920 people asked if this day made me lonely and shit. Well it did now, ya asstards.
Ok, no comments lately. It's starting to echo in here.
Thanks to my second wife, GeminiJulie, I got a much needed night off. Went to a local bar and they had cheesy kareoke. I shook some ass and had a good time.
It's funny when new people meet me for the first time. I like it that they see that I'm actually friendly and don't have horns growing out of my head.
I saw a picture of someone I used to date's current girlfriend (ok, I don't care if that was grammatically correct as the jagermeister and tequila shots last night cancel out my ability to use an apostrophe).
I didn't realize she was so absolutely fugly.
This makes me happy in such a way that I peed myself a little.
Because I'm an asshole like that.
Once again I find that the combination of hangover and cartoons is deadly.
That is all.
Although I'm all feeling sour and overworked, I still had (aka made) time to surf blogs. I followed link after link after link. Perhaps this is why I am feeling guilty over my life. So much strife. So many blogs. So much to say without anyone to hear it.
I did add an email address to my site to see if anyone wanted to contact me, but I think people must get put off by the password chastity belt I have on here.
Maybe I should uncrack the deb head.
Cause I'm a crackheaded motherfucker like that.
Crackity crack crack.
Ok, methinks it's time to go home.
I'm in the mood to sit at home and eat popcorn and watch really sad movies and cry.
I want to watch Sophies Choice. I want to see Shindler's list. I want to see people cry and agonize over something.
Because just when my life seems so awful and sad, there is someone who is out there damaged and hurting and surviving.
I should feel shame that I think I live a hard life. I should. Guilt and shame.
I'm feeling lonely today and have so much to do at work. While I'm glad that they dumped the last dirty booger eater assistant I had (aka Perky Butt to those in the know), I have so much work it truly makes my head ache.
I want to leave.
I need a hug.
Somebody call me.
*tap tap* is this thing on?
Treebeards Chicken and Dumplings should be made available every day.
Chicken and dumplings with a side of sex.
First off, I know what I signed up for when I became a mom. Now granted, I never THOUGHT I'd be a single mom. If that had crossed my stupid mind at the time that that was a possibility, I would have never chosen to have a child at all. So this isn't a Deb is Regretting Her Decision to be a Mom sort of post ...
---------------------
Now that we got that out of the way, on to something I need to get out of my head.
Ok, I know. Everyone is giving me shit about The Boy for Sex. (cause I know you all love me, but stillllllll....)
From my perspective, you all either:
a) have a dude in your life that kisses you, listens to you, cares for you, cares about you, or sexes you up when you need a little something something. Yes I have friends that care about me, but sorry, y'all may be some sexy mofos, but I don't want to fuck you.
or
b) actually get some time off from your little ones and/or have another grown up in the mix to help you out. You don't know how much this helps. It's why I've been sending out resumes for Zoe's dad. I need him here. For her. and for my sanity.
or
c) don't have kids.
It's not like having a pet. You can't just leave them home alone when you run to get some milk. You can't neglect them a little bit to make it up to them later. Your world revolves around them. It's your freaking JOB for Christsake. If they could take care of themselves, God wouldn't have made them so little and cute to start off with. It's a test. Of your patience and love.
You also can't take a pee without having a little one coming in to ask you questions. I rarely get to finish a meal. I can't remember the last time this happened without me standing up in the middle of my dinner at least once.
How often do you stop in the middle of dinner to wipe someone's ass? It is a regular occurance in the debu_household. (I think it has something to do with their little bellies can only hold so much that they usually have to stop and get some of it out before they can finish eating. Sorry to be gruesome, but it's a mom thing to know about this phenomenon.)
You can't read a book/watch tv/talk on the phone without having to get up to get them some milk, their barbie's other pink shoe, their Big Baby, their magical green socks, and on and on and on.
You can't go out on a whim and meet up with people sans kiddo. With adults. With men. With strangers. By yourself.
You constantly worry and stress that you are fucking up your kid. I don't know many pet owners that truly worry about if their dog thinks "God must hate me" or not. Because Zoe actually said that to me the other day. And it ripped my fucking heart out.
You work your ass off through blood sweat and tears (many) because it's not like you can just give your child away if things don't work out.
Can't I just want someone to be man enough to come and nurture me once in a while? Am I not allowed to be vunerable?
I can't take care of my kid if I can't take care of myself. And it's human to want someone to be with. Yes, I've been hurt before. This journal is full of that. But it's not like it will be the last time in my life. And I know what I've gotten into. And it really is O-K.
And Goddamnit if someone else tells me I need to just go get a vibrator, I might have to get one and shove it in your ear. (no, wait, some of y'all might like that - ewww). Sorry, but for me, masturbation is NOT an adequate substitute for sex.
Sex to me is fulfilling (usually because I don't have sex with people I don't care about), and masturbating is fulfilling for like .00023 seconds. Then you are like... ok, now what?
Besides, I sleep with my kiddo and never want to hear, "Mommy, what's that buzzing noise?" Trust me, when there's a little foot in your back the mood doesn't strike you to go, "hey, I think it's time to break out Mr. Monster Dick2000!!"
I'm alone almost all of the time. (not that Zoe's not there, but you know what I mean). I talk on the phone sometimes. I'm on the internet. But it isn't enough. I want someone there to give *me* a fucking hug when I need one. I want to see you smile at my jokes and then want to kiss you because you think I'm dorktastic. You, too, embrace my inner dork.
I don't mind being alone, I actually like being with my child too, but when it's all you do, it's nice to NOT be alone once in a while. It's nice to be Debby and not just Mommy.
So let me enjoy him while I still have the opportunity to do so. Yes, I'd love more with him. But I'm a pretty realistic motherfucker. Mr. Right ain't happenin' right now, so in the meantime, I want some me time. And what I need to satisfy me RIGHT NOW is to feel like someone gives two shits about me.
I know he's not my Mr. Perfect, but I like him and he likes me. And the sex is really really nice. (how often do you have best ever?) It's easy and it works for me. I'll take what I can get. It's just enough to carry me through this trying period in my life.
Life is too short to be waiting around for Mr. Wonderful. I've met too many turds and trolls and tramps to keep the faith. To keep even wanting to look some more. And I don't fucking have time to look. What if I get hit by a bus tomorrow? What if my diabetes finally says, hey, here's the stroke I've been promising you? And what if he never fucking shows up? I'm leaving Mr. Wonderful up to fate, chance, whatever. If he's meant to be, he'll find his way to me.
The Boy for Sex, well, is a wonderful lovely beautiful man. He makes me feel like ME again. And even if it's under false pretenses (which in my heart, it truly doesn't feel that way), well at least he makes me feel SOMETHING. Yes, sometimes it hurts. It's imperfect. But I'm hurting. I'm imperfect. So right now. Right at *this* point in my life. It works.
And all your concern *is* appreciated. I wouldn't fucking love you all like I do if I thought you were assholes. But all the concern in the world isn't going to let me escape my hard ass life for just this moment.
And I'm grateful for him. I love him just as I love you all.
Now. I better go earn my keep. Because I am not really into livin on the street.
Ok, tell me that a seven HOUR phone call is just sex.
Three hours the other day.
If it's just sex, why would he spend seven HOURS on the phone with me? Because it's not like he has to work it to get into my pants.
My face hurts from laughing so much.
Bedtime was 3:30. Alarmtime was 6:30. I feel like dog turds.
And no. It wasn't like phone sex, so stop thinking that.
Old entry on another site. I liked it so I'm posting it.
I get IM'd and PM'd to death from very young twenty-somethings that are bound and determined that they will *change* my life. That they will rock my world, baby. That they got mad skills in the bed.
Where you stay at?
Want some company?
You got any more pix?
I am so in2 u, baby.
u r hott!
And you know I really consider their offers, right? Cause you know I'm all up into jailbait like that. Wait. I had to stop typing that before I choked on my own bile.
Age ain't nuttin' but a number, baby.
Age is a state of yo mind.
Age means nothing in the bed, when I'm rockin' yo world.
I've been with older (oh, that's comforting - cause I'm picturing you doin' grannie with her wrinkly ol' cooter)
Motherfucker, I'm 37.
I don't wanna have yo kids.
I don't wanna let you sex me up.
I am not in the mood for you, playa playa.
No amount of cheesy lines or ripped off lyrics are gonna make me want to talk to you, much less date or fuck you.
And if your headline says "Recognize," "Be My Lady," "Down fo Whateva," "Don't Hate Da Playa," well *sob* we just weren't meant to be.
Dude. My world has been rocked. Several times and then some. You can't do anything for me. You can't do anything to me that probably hasn't been done to me before. And better. (although I sure have one that is showing me the light. heh.)
Junior, you just want a blow job from a chick that knows how to give one, and isn't afraid to rock out with the cock out.
Recognize that, Motherfucker!
~ debu_mofo
Why is it that when there is no possibility for getting sex that you so want to have sex?
Although The Boy For Sex now admits he was being a bit o' a bunghole. I'm still wary of him, but thinking about his abs and his ass and how much I want to lick... oh, shut the fuck up, deb, will ya?
And to my beloved girls, if you have a warm sexy body next to you, you better fucking jump him or someone else gladly will.
Harsh, but true.
Learn from my bad experience, will ya. Some good has to come out of that shitty past.