How Many Personalities Do You Have?

Have you ever found yourself thinking 'who the fuck was that?' Many times I look back at my behavior in certain circumstances and can’t figure out what came over me and why I turned into some freaky alternate person. So, much like my new favorite show, United States of Tara, I have decided to give all of my alters a name and persona. I would like to introduce you to…

Miss Jackson: She is a ferocious business woman that demands to be heard and knows her shit. Miss Jackson is not to be fucked with. This woman expects the best from people hates excuses and doesn’t make them herself. She is the kind of woman that would have burned her bra and marched all over Washington. Miss Jackson is a forward thinking liberal that refuses to accept the status quo. Basically she is a bad ass bitch who has no desire to become a stay at home mother and absolutely even less of a desire for a husband. Sex with Miss Jackson is a trip, be prepared to be dominated. If she were an animal, she sure as fuck would be a lioness, rawr!

Bella: No, not that dumb vampire skank, Bella is a fun, free loving, tree hugging, hula-hooping hippie. She is kind to all things, especially people. She is very patient, loves to listen to every ones story, and makes no judgment. Bella expresses herself creatively by writing, making jewelry, interpretive dance and of course body paint and glitter. This girl has been known to get down with the get down and is always ready for a party, especially if live music and mind altering substances are involved. New experiences are her forte. Bella’s go with the flow attitude allows her to love everyone for who they are and is always optimistic, sometimes to the point of annoyance. This woman is on the righteous side of karma and has an aura of soft purple and flecks of gold.

Trina: Let me tell you bout this bitch; she is an odd combination of a confrontational, argumentative, bossy snatch mashed up with a joke cracking, party going, fun loving night owl. She is one of those girls you see at the club drinkin, smokin, cursin, and shakin her ass on the dance floor. Trina is a lot of fun IF she is on your side, but what a cunt rag if you have wronged her. This woman has been known to hold a grudge and never seems to forget anything. She keeps her friends close and loves making them laugh, whether it is by being the only one dancing or with smart ass comments. Trina is EXTREMLEY flirtatious with men, so much so, it gets her into trouble. If shit is about to go down OR you need a night out, call Trina, she’s got you.

Fannie: Oh Fannie! I love having her around. Miss Fannie loves to cook and take care of people. She is the concerned motherly type. She will make you a nice hot home cooked meal, fix your plate, bring it to you and then even clean up the kitchen after, all while listening to and easing your woes. Fannie loves entertaining and throwing fancy soirees. This kind woman has a taste for the finer things from lobster to decadent desserts and bubble baths of course. Fannie is the definition of a lady.

Well, that’s the gang! If you mash them all together there you have it…me, bits of each one showing up at any given moment. I wouldn’t say I’m crazy and actually suffer from D.I.D, but I do think we all have multiple personalities that, when combined, make us uniquely ourselves. If I didn’t have all these women within me I would be a boring, one dimensional wet blanket. Who are your alters? It is quite fun to embrace them J

XOXO

Miss Jackson

Bella

Trina

Fannie

Living a Lie!

I've Been Living a Lie!

It is true. Not only do I suck the big one when it comes to keeping up to date with this blog, I also have been lying to you all. I WAS single when I first started this…was being the key word. I am no longer a single twenty something (sigh). I am now a 20 something with a BOYFRIEND. FUCK! I hate that word. I use it very sparingly, but today is the day I confess my sins to you, well not all my sins. If I did that I might as well just say adios blog, considering the only real interesting parts of my life are my sins.

So back to this boyfriend of mine…yes, yes I tried to hide it from not just you, but also my friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances that I see in real life. Really, I have no excuse for my actions. It is not as though I am dating some troll that I am embarrassed to be seen with. I don’t have weird commitment issues. I don’t have an inordinate amount of self esteem issues, no daddy complexes and I’m not overly private with my life events. Simply, I just don’t like the word boyfriend. I think it is a childish and idiotic word. Let us break it down, shall we? This two syllable word does not, in the least, describe the relationship I have with the man I am suppose to refer to as my boyfriend.

Syllable one = boy. The MAN I am sleeping with, sharing life experiences and growing with is not a boy, fucking thank whatever god you believe in for that. I sincerely have an issue with grown women having sexual encounters with boys. Syllable two = friend. I have a lot of people I consider friends but I have never put any of their genitals in my mouth; nor do I cuddle with them, strip for them, or write cute little sappy notes for them. After examining the word it just doesn’t work. There has to be a better term to use, but really there isn’t. I guess maybe I could call him my malelovingcompanion, but that just makes it sound as though he likes dudes and is nice to me, or is a gay dog...either way not fitting.

From now on I should just refer to him as the only man I am sleeping with. This is how that would go: “Hi Sally! It sure has been a while, you look great! I would like to introduce you to the man I am sexually and emotionally monogamous with.” That’s not awkward, right? I really do think that this is the reason I failed to share the news with you and everyone else in my life. My friends all knew I had a boyfriend before I admitted it, hell maybe even before I knew it. They all found it amusing that I refused to fess up. Again, the reason for this is because at my age there is no word that properly describes the relationship I am in. I have surpassed my mid twenties, and the relationship I have now is not the same as the ones I had in High School, but we use the same word. I don’t get it. As we grow and enter into more mature unions our vocabulary should reflect those changes. But as explored above, there is no word that describes it. That is until you reach the fiancé stage (AHHHH), and we ALL should know by now that I am NOT ready for that! For fuck sake I just came to terms with the fact that I have a bf.

Love,

Still Single According to my W2's

A Well Rounded Breakfast

Dear Diary,

I know I have been neglecting you, and I am sorry! I tend to start my hobbies off strong, and then, as time progresses become much less motivated. But I’m back in the saddle, so hang on and prepare yourself for a laugh or two…

At a stand-up show I heard the following joke, which struck a chord with me, so here it is: “I took a lovely young lady home last night from the bar, in the morning I played the perfect gentleman by making her breakfast. I had Fruit Loops and she had PlanB”.

There are many things I love about PlanB. Obviously, the #1 is that it has prevented me from having a baby daddy. No one, in their right mind, wants a ‘baby daddy’. If you have children, you want them to have a father. I also never want to be some one's baby mamma. That would require me to yell about child support and other unfortunate circumstances.

I also love that I have a literal plan B, because sometimes plan A just doesn’t quite work the way it was suppose to. In school, we were taught to have a backup plan. Sure I wanted to be responsible and use proper birth control, but I dropped the ball, and I didn’t execute plan A. So now I should have to bare a child? If that’s what you think, I’m sorry, but you are a fuck-tard. I can’t even remember to take my birth control on time. Do you really think I will make a responsible mother? C’mon!!! I actually know at this stage in my life I would be a terrible mother. My baby would probably ride in the passenger seat and eat tootsie rolls for breakfast. Yes, my infant, who has no teeth, would eat tootsie rolls.

Another thing I really like about this magical little pill is that I can get it over the counter. I don’t have to go get violated by some women to be told it is ok I don’t want to get pregnant. All I need to do is the walk of shame on over to Walgreens, and BAM, re-do button has been activated! It is almost as easy as the mind eraser from Men In Black. Side note; when this happens I can’t help to giggle, knowing that the pharmacist assistant, pill counter, or whatever you call that profession, now knows I made regrettable decisions last night. If it is an older lady, it is very likely she will give the SINNER stare. You know, the one you get when you buy condoms or lube from an uptight old hag, who hasn’t seen a cock in 10+ years. I’m ok with all of that, as long as she sells me the goods. If the cashier is one of those crazies, I like to pop the pill right there at the counter. This usually helps ease the embarrassment.

There are a lot of things about PlanB that I like, but there is one thing I don’t enjoy at all, the price. That damn pill cost $50+ As a young mattress saleswomen, who spends her money on important things, such as booze and shoes, fifty dollars is a lot to shell out at the drop of a hat. Fuck you Mr or Mrs PlanB, for being a genius, and making shit loads of cash because you saw an amazing business opportunity. You knew me, and every other girl, terrified at the possibility of being impregnated by someone they probably had no intention of sleeping with in the first place, would find a way to come up with $50 every time…EVERY TIME!

Now comes the time in the blog where I share my new found wisdom, the lesson I have learned. Plan B is plan B because it isn’t plan A! Plan A is the much more desirable choice. That cute little pill is there for emergencies only. Emergencies need not include being too drunk to wrap it up. But lucky me, I live in America. I get to have a backup plan, unless the damn Republican Party decides to take that option away.

Yours Truly

Stocking Up Before November      

Dear Diary,

I fucking hate work.

I don’t hate my job; I just hate the fact that my life is interrupted by work. Now contrary to what that statement may suggest I am an ambitious person, but I think that is precisely why work sucks so badly. I work hard and have a lot of goals. Guess what, accomplishing goals takes time!! Working, achieving goals, and doing other productive things is getting in the way of me going out, drinking copious amounts of wine, and dancing with my ladies. Why you ask? Well, because lots of wine equals lots of headaches, and lots of headaches equals me locking myself in my dark room still dressed in the clothes from last night with my eye make-up smeared down to my chin, ordering Chinese delivery and not leaving the house until approximately THE NEXT DAY. Nowhere does drinking equal getting up early, working out, eating a well rounded breakfast, looking flawless, getting to work early, doing other productive things while at work (i.e. not writing a blog about how you hate work while at work), going home and tackling something profound like tutoring a blind homeless crack baby. Nope it sure doesn't. Sidenote - not sure why a crack baby would need toutoring, but it sounds like a nice respectable goal to use as an example. 

Do you know what else work gets in the way of? My fitness. Yes, I think I should tell my doctor that I need a prescription for early retirement because I will be much healthier. I have tried waking up early to work out before going to work, but let us break that sentence down. WORKING out before going to WORK…even grammatically that just doesn’t WORK. I have also tried working out after work, but again it doesn’t work. I am selling mattresses until 8pm (sometimes 9 or 9:30 if people decide to be dicks and stroll in 3 minutes before close). By the time I get home it is well past 8:30 then I should go for a run!?! What the fuck? Shouldn’t working 9 plus hours a day just automatically make me slim and trim? Unfortunately no, I sell the mattresses I don’t squat them.

Ugh, working is getting in the way of me doing so many other fun things! I could be going to music festivals every weekend, baseball games, comedy shows, weekend getaways, happy hours, AND it is even getting in the way of me accomplishing my personal goals. I can’t visit two new countries and/or states every year, not on this salary and with no PTO. So in conclusion I would be a much better, healthier, prettier, happier, interesting, and more fun person if I didn’t have to work. My solution is to either win the lottery, find a rich man that just gives me money for nothing in return because in my experience rich people suck, or somehow get a job that pays really well and only requires about 25 hours per week. *LOOOOONG SIGH* A girl can dream…a girl……………can…………….dream!    

XOXO

Early Retirement Candidate #1

Happy Fathers Day

In this entry I am going to shy away from my usual MO, a blog full of sexualized jokes and curse words. Don’t you fret, this won’t last long…I promise! But today is Fathers Day, and I recently lost my dad after a long battle with cancer. For a brief moment I’m going to let you all know what an amazing man he was and share with you some of the lessons he shared with me.

Dear Dad,

HAPPY FATHERS DAY!!!!!! I miss you daily, but am very thankful for the many valuable lessons you have taught me. I can tell you this without a doubt, I would not be the women I am today without those lessons. On this Fathers Day I wanted to take a stroll down memory lane with you. Do you remember the summer day you woke brother and I up early in the morning with a packed cooler and a plan for an adventure? The three of us jumped in your pick-up and headed down to the river to canoe to a secret sand bar you and your buddies use to party on. While we had soda and turkey sandwiches to tide us over, in your youth you probably had beer and women. Despite that one minute difference we still managed to have an exciting journey! Being a single father you didn’t have a lot of money to keep us busy, but you sure did love spending time with us, sharing stories of your adolescence and teaching us how to thoroughly enjoy life. This is one of the most important gifts you have given me, the ability to enjoy life no matter what obstacles are thrown my way, thank you!

Another gift you have given me is the capability to be creative. Each summer you would take brother and I to a rock music festival to camp, fish, and most importantly listen to some classic rock! You had to be creative in coming up with ways to keep us entertained for days with no TV, cell phones, or other gadgets to distract us. So you came up with Frisbee Golf. Dad, the funny thing is that now there is an entire sport called Frolf (aka Frisbee golf). You’re a damn genius (guess I got that from you too ;))!!! But in your version of ‘Frolf’ we used a regular old Frisbee, not those gay little ones they have now, and trees that you marked were our targets. Now that’s innovation, plus now that I think about it, it was probably a total chick magnet! A young strapping man playing Frisbee with his two children…smart dad, very smart!

Another precious lesson I learned from you was to always support those you love. You did this my entire childhood by never missing a game, parent teacher conference, or even one of my dreadful show choir concerts. This particular memory takes place at a home softball game during my sophomore year of high school. It was a warm sunny day and I knew you would be there, being my biggest cheerleader and all. Sure enough, from the outfield I saw you pull into the lot with plenty of time until the game started. I continued to warm up with the rest of my team, but as we started to trickle in I heard you cheering and a lot of laughter. It wasn’t long until I discovered what was so comical. YOU! Not just you, but you dressed as a cheerleader in your cut off jean shorts, short shorts…very short shorts that you made special for this public display. Topped off with a cut off t-shirt with our last name scribbled on the back, hair in pigtails, pom-poms, and two empty Diet Mountain Dew cans stuffed into your shirt! I was a 16 year old girl in a small town…needless to say my face was more than red. You did a few of your choreographed cheers, made everyone laugh and went to change and headed back to the stands in your civilian clothes. Even I, red faced and all couldn’t help but crack up laughing. Thankfully you were my biggest cheerleader and now I can share that same love and support with those closest to me, even if I do embarrass the fuck out of them.

Lastly, dad you taught me how to take risks. For example you had a motorcycle. An old Harley with NO BRAKES!!! Thankfully you never took us on it, but you sure did love to let your hair down and ride it. “The breaks are bad, but that is what your feet are for” you would tell people. Do I take this lesson literally and drive anything without breaks? Hell no! Luckily you also raised me to be smart ;) I do, however, not shy away from a little risk or adventure. I think if you were with me this summer you have been the first to raise your hand and say you would go sky diving with me. You would have loved it, and I would be willing to bet it is sure as shit safer than riding a motorcycle with no breaks.

Thank you dad for all of your encouragement and unparalleled love throughout the years; I miss you but cherish the amazing and sometimes amusing memories we have shared. I love you and happy Fathers Day! Don’t worry this year I didn’t make you a bracelet you have to pretend to like.

Love,

Your Daughter 

Maybe It’s Her…Maybe It’s Maybelline

 Dear Diary,

Make-up. It is a glorious tool that I use on a daily basis. But girls, some of you are taking this privilege and abusing it. We all know we look a little better with some concealer, mascara and a little rouge, but for some reason a select few of you have decided to take the cake-face approach when applying your make-up.

When I see this I can’t help but first blatantly stare, then ponder how your face ended up this way. Do you think maybe this woman with the clown like make-up doesn’t have electricity so the lighting in her home is so poor that she can’t see what she is going on? Or perhaps she was just about to use up her tube of cover-up and said to herself “Fuck it might as well finish it off” (same thing I say to myself when I have about a glass of wine left in a bottle). Or could it really be that she has actually tricked herself into believing that men look at her and think “Oooooo I can’t wait to see what she really looks like”. I would be willing to bet my entire life savings (all $48.70 of it) that the last man that slept with any particular cake-face wasn’t excited to see what was under the make-up, instead he was really more focused on getting into whatever was under her skirt. I don’t pretend to know men, I am single after all, BUT I do know this – if you apply your make-up with a spatula, people wonder what you REALLY look like, or when you snag a man from the local watering hole you turn his nice white pillow case into something that looks more like a painting by Pablo Picasso you are abusing your make-up privileges! Stop it!

Ladies we all have things we would like to hide from the world, for me it is my not-any-where-near-toned upper arms that tend to do the lunch lady jig whenever I wave or get too aggressive on the dance floor. If you are looking to hide your entire face I think you should explore other options. For example a nice paper bag or how about a pretty scarf, or you could get all futuristic and try something out of Face-Off and have a face transplant! Either way let’s not abuse our ability to cover up a blemish or two by taking it to the extreme and covering your whole face with a nice thick layer of make-up. If you disagree and think the only option is to be a cake-face then go for it, do what you do. Just don't be surprised when I stare inquisitively.

Lots of love,

Sparkling and Solo

20-Something & Unmarried...Thank God!

Dear Diary,

Yes it’s true I am 20-something and unmarried; to me this is completely normal. But according to my new cube neighbor this is unacceptable. Let me tell you how this all went down. Today he asked if I was married. We were on the subject somehow, I guess just trying to make small talk as he just moved into the cube next to me. I replied like I always do to that question, in a disgusted tone “HA! Absolutely not! I’m still young so I’m not planning on getting married anytime soon.” At that point he looks at me with a confused sort of look on his face, laughs, and follows that with the rolling of his eyes. Now this is not the normal response I get; usually I get a nod, a smile and a ‘Yeah I know what you mean’, especially when talking to men. When he threw the eye roll at me I was caught off guard…so I said “Well too young to get married anyway.” Part of me thinks I said this to just clarify that we were talking about marriage and not something like getting my driver’s license or graduating high school. His response was again not what I was expecting. At this point he goes on to tell me he is married and has been since January (it’s fucking June! That constitutes six months of marriage, and I can almost guarantee he just celebrated his 6 month anniversary).

Now after bragging about his prosperous marriage he goes on to try and make me feel better about my marital status by saying “At least it’s better to know you won’t get married than to end up divorced.” Because obviously someone like me could never expect to have a successful marriage, clearly the only logical outcome would be divorce. AND did I miss something? I am 20-something, not closing in on 50! Now that he has successfully insulted my relationship status he decides it best to move on to the age portion. So he quizzes me on his age. I wanted to tell him “what the fuck do I care what your age is, you’re married and clearly have limited social skills” but instead I politely respond with a guess of 27. To me this is a sensible age someone might decide to get married. With this guess he scoffs all offended “I’m not THAT OLD! How OLD are you?” To this I reply “20something” with a big smile because not only do like being in my twenties, I am also pretty happy with where I am in my life for mid-twenties. Now this is where the conversation really starts to head south. He replies “Well I’m not as OLD as you.” After that I really did not care to continue, BUT since he insisted on telling me that he was only 23 and his wife of six months thinks he is annoying because all he does is play Xbox and eat junk food, I had no choice but to listen. While listening all I could think is that this kid pity’s me because I’m a 20-something year old single female living on my own with no immediate need or interest in getting married. He pity’s me? Really? This 400lb manchild feels sorry for me because I’m not bound to someone for the rest of my life that doesn’t even like me? And does he realize he is only 23 years of age and the average life expectancy these days is like 70. That is almost 50 years he has to spend with this girl who thinks he is annoying after 6 months! 50 years!!! Now being that he does weigh 400lbs or so (no exaggeration) we can safely assume that at least 15 of those years can be shaved off. BUT STILL! 35 years is a long fucking time! Since I plan on living until at least 95, I figure I have about 20 more years to be single and not feel bad about it. At that point I might start to look for someone that I can put up with for the remainder of my life. 

Morale of the story…sometimes it’s better not to ask! All of this could have been avoided if I kept to myself and didn’t feel the need to talk to every last individual that crosses my path. I knew full well that my cube neighbor and I were never going to be friends (I could tell the first time he spoke to me about gaming and chicken wings). Instead what did I do? I asked about his stupid fucking marriage. I can’t help but hope he gets divorced. 

<3 Saucy Spinster

The Perfect Man

Dear Diary,

While spending some quality time alone today on my day off I decided it would be wise to have a glass or two of wine and make a list. I make lists all the time; to do lists, bucket lists, shopping lists...you get the point. This list however is going to be a bit different. I have decided I am going to make a list of the attributes my perfect man will posses. This can go one of two ways, it could be very depressing and lead these one or two glasses to turn into one or two bottles OR it could be quite comical and maybe even a bit eye opening. This is uncharted territory for me; somewhat of an adventure, but instead of looking for the pot of gold we are looking for some indicators as to why I am single. Another plus is that from this list you might be able to decide if my rants are worth following. Ooooooooo exciting! Here we go!

#1 Fun, Fun, FUN!

Most importantly this man needs to be fun, know how to have fun, and be able to find the fun. Now to most this might not seem like a skill, but you wouldn't believe how many people are incapable of enjoying themselves. Now to me this doesn't just mean you have a good time when you are out with your friends or on vacation. Nope that's easy! What it really comes down to is can you have fun when you have $6 to spare, your car broke down yesterday and there is 12" of snow on the ground. If you can we are off to a great start!

#2 Kind Hearted

I like to pretend that I'm tough, callus, and cynical. But the truth is I'm a big ol' softy. I cry at those humane society commercials, over tip when service sucks and listen to strangers like I have known them for years. I don't do all of this because I am actually interested or truly care (except for the animals) it's more that I hate being rude and I very much dislike rude people! If a man is arrogant and can't practice basic manners we will not fit. I especially hate it when you go out to dinner (or any meal for that matter) and they are too picky with their food or super stingy with the tip. Nothing makes me NOT want to put your cock in my mouth more. Just be nice boys, and I'll be nice to you.

#3 Be a Gentleman
I am very independent, and it takes a special kind of man to allow me to be that way but still treat me like a lady. Although I have mastered the art of carrying six bags of groceries at once to avoid having to make two trips and still open the door on my own, does not mean I enjoy it. That shit hurts your arm! When you ask if I need help, I will say no, why, because technically I don't NEED your help. I have done this before and can do it again. Instead you need to be a gentleman, not ask a stupid question you already know the answer to, take 4 of the 6 bags and open the door for me without being asked. If you don't, I'm sorry but your an idiot.

#4 Must Love Dogs

Really that's all I should have to say. If you don't like dogs, don't want one of your own someday and don't "Awwwwww" whenever you see a cute one it was over before it even started. 

#5 Smile Large and Laugh Loud

This may seem like a repeat of #1, but I promise it isn't. The wine hasn't gotten to me quite yet. Along with being able to have fun it is important to me that people know your having fun. Nothing spreads the fun more than smiling often and laughing loudly!

#6 I AM Funny, & So Are My Friends

I say funny witty things, and I sometimes laugh at my own jokes. The people closest to me laugh at my jokes too and I laugh at theirs; why because we are funny! So if for whatever reason you don't think my friends and I are funny then fuck off. The Spice Girls said it best "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends".

#7 On a More Serious Note

If you can't hold a serious adult conversation with me then my multidimensional personality has been wasted! I love fooling around and all but I have serious goals and sometimes bad shit happens. I need to be able to discuss these tragedies, aspirations, thoughts and feelings freely.

#8 Don't Be a Manchild

If your Mom still does your laundry, makes your dentist appointments and you are still an avid gamer I can't deal. I don't want to replace your mother and take over caring for you. You are a grown-ass-man and should be able to make and keep appointments yourself, pay your bills on time and put down the game controller to do something productive.   

#9 Superficial...Yes, a Little :)

Ok, so I know everything thus far has been about personality, but unfortunately looks do matter a bit. 1st and foremost your teeth! PLEASE keep them clean and straight. Second if you spend more time getting ready than me we will never have sex. I like men, so I expect that you look and act like one. If you shave your chest, use hair gel and wear tight graphic tee's...YUCK! I would rather have sex with myself.

#10 Last But Certainly Not Least - 50/50

I need a man that can walk the fine line of being manly as well as being in touch with his feminine side. I was raised by a man so participating in manly activities comes naturally. I enjoy sports, outdoors and beer. I also love wearing heels, watching romantic comedies and drinking fine wine (from a box ;) That being said I need you to be able to be able to walk that line too. Please teeter more on the masculine side but don't deny me the right to watch 'The Real Housewives of New Jersey' every now and again. I also hate housework and enjoy being cooked for just as much as you so suck it up and return the favor.

Shit, I sure seem like a demanding bitch huh? Maybe that's why I'm single...and I didn't even make it to any of my sexual needs! We will save that for another day, over another few glasses of wine. 

<3 

Single Lady 

Dear Diary,
Being single is often comical, sometimes sad, but mostly great! After wrestling with the idea of starting a blog for a little over a year I decided why the hell not. But before we move forward with our relationship I would like to set some ground rules (a phrase I use commonly with men)...

First, if you are easily offended, please, for your own sake move on.
Second, this is not an intellectual blog by any stretch of the imagination so don't expect to be moved or find the answer.
Third, I will be talking about sex. As a 20-something single it is my duty and I take great pride in fulfilling this duty.
And lastly, I will be using the fuck word along with other profane language, so as previously stated in number one move along if you disapprove. 

Now that we are all on the same page WELCOME to The Diary of a Single 20-Something!

XOXO
- Ridin' Solo