45 Can Suck my Dick!

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Fuck 40. 40 can suck my dick!-Debbie-This is 40

As I tried to drag my tired ass out of bed this morning, all I could think about was the movie I watched last night. By myself of course, because Roger Darling had a stressful week. He’s recently been promoted to assistant manager at the direct care group home where he is employed. I have to say when Leslie Mann bemoaned the fact that 40 could suck her dick, I agreed completely. Of course, I’m now 45. That age can suck my dick too.

What the hell have I become but a hamster on a wheel? I have to work out for an hour to eat a cupcake. Hell, to even take a bite of a cupcake, and not have it go straight to my ass. Forget carbs. A woman my age can no longer even enjoy a fucking bagel without calculating how many miles she will have to run to burn off the calories. This sucks!

I sit here in my workout clothes waiting for RD to get home so I can trot my ass to the gym and run a couple of miles. Of course, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve done any kind of workout. I’ll probably keel over and die on the way home.

I miss the days when Diet Coke and a cigarette were dinner. If I did that now, my blood sugar would plummet and I’d end up in the ER. This getting older shit ain’t for sissies. I swear to you I’ve seen more wrinkles appear on my face in the last six month than I have in the past few years.

No more complaining. It’s time to get up off my ass and head to the gym. Drink more water and eat healthier too. Just once I’d like to go back in time and slap the 17 year old me and tell her to lighten up. To have more fun and run more. To go to college. Not to smoke! Don’t worry, I quit that habit years ago. I had to because I would lose my breath when doing the dirty, dirty, and no one wants that!!!!

I’m not looking for positive comments and ah grrrrlllll, you can do it pats on the back. I just wanted to bitch. As the title states, 45 can suck my dick!

Off to the fucking gym!

Love,

Sparkly Girl

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A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Surgery

Renee and Heidi JoThat’s me and my Heidi Jo. She knew I wasn’t feeling well last night, so she stuck to me like Velcro. She laid on my tummy to keep it warm. Must be she knew exactly where I hurt.

I decided to become a comedian!

I should have known what I was in for when the nurse asked me to pee in a cup before she could prep me for surgery. I looked at her and said, “Seriously. I had a sterilization procedure over a year ago. I’m not pregnant.” She laughed and replied, “Honey, just give me three drops.” She left and I locked the door. I sat there for about five minutes willing myself to go. I gave her nothing, nada, zip and zilch.

I headed back to Amy with my empty cup. She just laughed at me. She said, “Let’s get you prepped and then try again. I told her, “I’ve got nothing left in me. I swear.” I proceeded to hold up my fingers in a Girl Scout salute. Our conversation went to hell from there. I took off my clothes and put on my gown. I could only reach the draw string around my neck, so that’s the only one I tied. Yes, my ass was hanging out, but I was going to be lying down so I didn’t care.

Amy brought blankets that had been warmed in an oven. I told her, “Bless you honey, cuz I’m freezing my ass off!” I put my hands underneath the blanket to warm my veins. I wanted them to be ready for the IV Amy was going to shove in my hand. As she’s doing her thing, Dr. P the anesthesiologist introduced himself. He was sweet and friendly. He harassed Amy in a loving way as she flitted around the room. I told him “Thank you, you’re very nice.” The nurse said “I’d like that comment in writing please.” I told Dr. P, “Come back and I’ll gladly write it down.” I gave him a bright smile. He said to Amy, “See, she has good taste.” Amy replied, “She’s being nice because you’re going to give her good drugs.” I laughed uproariously. The whole damn room could hear me.

There were more nurses to greet me, an intern working with Dr. K and the doctor herself. I love that woman. She’s about 5’1″. She’s energy, light and fire. I love her matter of factness. She’s a dream. She signs off on my surgery band and heads to her locker to take off her coat and hat.

Amy comes back and sticks my hand with a light dose of Lidocain, then inserts the IV. I told her not to go digging around in my vein or I might have to slap her. She giggled at me. I told her I was serious. As she was taping the IV down her nose started to run. I said, “Oh honey let it drip. It’s not the worst thing I’ve had on my hand.” She replied, “Just don’t go digging around, right?” I said, “Amy, if you start digging in your nose, I’ll throw up.” She told me, “Stop making me laugh so hard or my nose will start running all over your hand.” I answered back, “Ewwwwwww you’re gross!”
She hooked me up to the IV bag and let the fluids run fast. I still needed to pee. I grabbed my cup and asked Amy to tie up my gown. She called me a brazen hussy. I replied, “How did you know!?” She said she needed to get me an IV pole. I yelled across the room, “Be careful now I might have to dance around it.” The woman across from me laughed. I’m glad she did too, because two minutes before that she had the most distraught look on her face. She was talking to her daughter that was going to have surgery. I could see she was putting on a brave face, but she was nervous as hell.

I took my pole and cup with me to the bathroom. Finally peed, washed my hands and headed back to my bed. Sitting in the chair next my bed was my rock. My Roger Darling. Amy helped me with my IV and covered me back up. I looked at RD and said, “My nurse had the nerve to call me a brazen hussy because I told her I was going to dance on my IV pole.” He laughed and shook his head. Said, “Babe even before surgery, you can be a nut. He heard the other patients and care givers laughing at me and he gave me the warmest smile. He asked, “Are you okay?” I replied, “Yep, I’m ready for good drugs and good night.”

Dr. K stopped by and said she was ready. She chatted with Roger, he kissed my lips, and headed out to the waiting area. Dr. K said, “He’s so chill. So calm.” I told her, “Yes, he is my rock. My other half. My friend.” They wheeled me to OR 1. As we entered the room they said they would draw the shades. I told Dr. K, “Good. I don’t need everyone seeing my hoo hoo.” She laughed at me and said, “You’re a funny woman.” I replied, “Yep, now give me drugs.” They did and I was gone.

I woke up an hour later to the sweet sound of my nurse, Molly telling me it was time to wake up. I didn’t want to though. I was dreaming. Of what I don’t remember, but it was good. I think it was anyway. Now I’m home and resting. Taking care to write and read. Nothing more. Results will be in by the end of the week. Here’s hoping it’s not the big C. And if it is, it’s only a little c.

Do Whatever the Fuck You Were Gonna Do Anyway

Today I’m home sick. Terrible headache, sore jaw, tooth ache. No, I was not out giving blow jobs to random men. I was at the dentist yesterday having a cavity filled and I also had a flu shot this week. I feel like I have a jackhammer banging the shit out of my temples. My body aches and I have the chills. I feel fabulous!

I posted the fact that I was going to the dentist to have a cavity filled. One of my readers left the comment on my page that he’d fill one of my cavities for me. When I read it, I laughed so damn hard I cried! Thank you BC for the joke, I was hoping someone would say it!!!!

I saw the quote above from RDJ yesterday and it kinda snapped me back to reality. I’ve been such a whiny baby bitch lately, I was beginning to get on my own nerves. You know it’s time to check yourself when that happens. So it’s back to romantic stories, poetry, some erotica and journal entries. No more whining if I can avoid it.

After talking to one of my Angels, I was reminded that life is life. It can be good or bad. We need to make the best of it. We need to be positive, supporting and loving. Of the people in our lives, but to ourselves too. Shit happens. Shit doesn’t happen. It’s life.

Now I need a nap because I’m sick. I have a book chapter to write later. I have a life to live. I have a daughter getting married. Oh, and I have dog pee to clean up off from the damn floor. Then I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want to do.

I leave you with the meme below. I know, I’m such a sweetie. But don’t fuck with me. Hahahahahahahahahhaha! Later my loves.

And Another Fucking Thing!

I just want to say that the bloggers that have been leaving comments on my page floor me. I never in a million years thought I was any good at this writing thing. I was terrible in English class, but I can spell and speak like a mother fucker. I’m the Grammar Nazi in my family. When the kids were growing up I would correct them. I didn’t want them sounding like heathens. Hell, Meggie won a writing award in fourth grade. I knew my correction was working. Er, except when I corrected Roger Darling. That was a bad day in the Heath House. Holy shit I thought he was going to kick my ass (read figuratively. The man worships my sparkly ass.). The kids thought it was hilarious. Oh yeah, sure. Mom’s going to get her ass kicked by Dad. That’ll be a hoot. Fortunately there was no ass kicking. Just a nice reminder that I was not his mother. Ha!

I used to post funny status updates on FB all the time. Or sad ones. Or thought provoking ones. Or pissed off ones. Whatever was on this sparkly mind of mine. My dear friend Lisa was the one that said blog. I said okay, but I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. The first few posts suck. But as time progresses they get better. I’ve had help from other writers. I guess that means I’m a writer too.

The comments here are always positive. I’m shocked. I was told to be prepared for criticism. The only criticism I ever got was on subject matter that I write about. Those comments were from my own extended family.They’re shocked about what I write. They wonder how I can put myself out there. How can I not? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking? Why not just come out and say it. And they don’t like the fact that I say fuck all the time. Fuck that! I say fuck, because I fucking can. So that’s what I’m going to fucking do. I love them, but this girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.

My mother has read my more recent posts. Rather I read them to her. She told me she was proud of me. But did I have to say fuck all the time? Mom I love you but yes, I fucking do. My readers like it. Hell, I like it.

I have friends tell me all the time that I’m writing about what they’re thinking. Of course I am. We’re all on this planet going through the same damn shit, so why wouldn’t they identify with me?

I had one blogger comment that in all the years that she’d been studying writing in college, she couldn’t come close to some of the things that I’d been writing. My thoughts, my subjects, my words were those of some of her favorite authors. I was overjoyed by the words, but I’m still skeptical. I still don’t want to believe it.

I was thinking about taking a creative writing class. I don’t really know if I want to. I mean I’m all for sitting at a computer and bleeding. But I want to bleed and write about my passions. My needs. My wants. My desires. Not what some teacher wants me to write about. I’m kind of a rebel girl. I don’t like it when someone tells me what to do. So I think I’m just going to keep doing more of what I’ve been doing. I read other bloggers every day. I get insight from every post I read and from every writer that I talk to.

I hope you keep reading. I hope more bloggers follow me. I hope I never run out of words. I hope, I hope and I hope.

Another blog award? Oh gee you shouldn’t have.

Yes I got another blog award. From the wonderful gentleman at As Long as I’m Singing. Seems he’s a sucker for a strong willed, out-spoken woman that swears a bit. Aw shucks.

I have to tell you (7) things you probably don’t know about me. I LOVE to talk about myself as you know. Wink, wink!

• First off, I’m 5′ 6″ tall. I look taller. That’s just an illusion. You’re looking at my boobs, so you’re easily distracted and convinced that I’m taller.

• Secondly, I SUCK at math. I use a calculator for every math problem I do. I’m easily frustrated by numbers, but I work in finance. Go figure!

• Third, my middle name is Michelle. Renee Michelle Heath. My mother named me Renee Michelle after a child that she used to baby sit for. My original name was April. It was changed when I was adopted at 1 month old.

• Fourth, my parents divorced when I was three. I have no memories of living with my father. He’s a groovy dude though.

• Fifthly, I love Marilyn Monroe. She is one of my idols. She was broken and no one fixed her. They just let her go. Used her. Her beauty is unparalleled.

• Sixthly, I say the word fuck, A LOT! My husband says I have the mouth of a truck driver. I tell him nah, I’m just passionate when I speak. The F word has to be used by a passionate woman, such as myself.

•  Seventh, I do not back down from a fight. I will get in your face and yell, no matter if I’m right or wrong. I also like to slam doors. A LOT!

One more thing. I’m sitting here with my hair in a pony tail, mascara smudged under my eyes, a tank shirt, underwear, and zebra print slippers. It’s not what I usually wear to write, but I figured it would work for a Saturday morning.

Here are the nominations. Folks go read these blogs. They ROCK!

A Thin Girl Dot Com – Susannah is one of my biggest cheerleaders. I adore her posts. I’m proud to call her a friend.

Thoughts from the Outdoors – David makes me want to go camping. And, um, other things outside. Wink, wink. His prose are beautiful. Just beautiful.

Kylling Sara– I can’t even explain to you how her blog makes me feel. Read her. She’s amazing. Strong. Amazing.

Nine and a Half Hours Ahead – Dan’s pictures and stories move me. Makes me aware that there is still so much more to be done in Afghanistan. I’m not much for the military. But Dan brings a human side to it.

Orbital Decay – OMFG her photos rock my world. Such beauty. She leaves me in awe.

Gorgeous Company – What can I say about Geoff? Except WOW!

Creative Noodling – Love to read her. Sometimes I swear she’s written something just for me. She also made me realize it’s okay to be a vanilla girl. As long as you throw a bit of caramel and whipped cream in.

Well that’s it. I thank you again for the nom T. I promise to keep writing silly, thoughtful, heartbreaking stuff. And I’ll be sure to pepper the posts with plenty of swear words. This sparkly girl may be pretty, but she’s got a tongue like a razor. Giggle.

Sundays in the Grooming Salon

Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.
Aristotle
It’s Sunday morning and I’m about to walk into my bliss. My job at Petco. I wonder how many lovely dogs I’ll get to beautify today. What kind of trouble I can get into. I see Clara and Marlena eyeing me through the glass door. Clara, the blondie is already smiling and giggly. Marlena has her painted eyebrow arched. Her red hair looks like flames. They are two of the most beautiful, free-spirited women I have ever known. I open the door and Clara immediately starts yelling, hey sexy. Marlena starts throwing dollar bills at me, calling me a sexy bitch. She tells me she’s going to steal my outfit. It’s not much really. Just a little torn up Malificent t-shirt, off the shoulder, a tank, my bra straps are hanging out. I’m wearing a pair of tight yoga pants. I blush. I smile. I think to myself, let the games begin!
 Of course I start posing.  Marlena starts yelling at me to say it. I grin, look at our new groomer. Hope he’s not easily offended. In my most devilish voice, I scream EAT THE KITTY!!! EAT IT! NOW! The girls lose their minds with laughter. I make a rude symbol with my fingers and tongue. We laugh till we can’t breathe. Our faces flushed. Humphrey looks at us like we’re crazy. Which of course we are.
 They love that I’m crude. That I’m not like their mothers. We talk about boys. All the time. We do have the occasional lesbian conversation. Thus the reason for the “EAT THE KITTY” outburst. I don’t know why I started saying it. It’s been kind of a theme for us. If it gets too tense, I just yell it out.
 I miss my K though. She was our Lucy. I still hold onto hope that she’ll come back. It’s an empty dream, I know. I  told her I’m moving in with her when I get old. I love her. She is me. I am her. In opposite bodies. Opposite ages too. It’s weird. She is my kindred spirit, my split apart, my soul mate. There’s no other way to explain it. She and I, just are….
 We work hard on Sundays. We laugh a lot. We cry sometimes. I don’t know how many times one of us has shared a secret. They just slip out in conversation. Among the dog hair, clippers, brushes, scissors, styptic, and shampoos.
 I can’t imagine my life without them in it. We depend on each other. We have shared some incredible stories. Supported each other through difficult times. I help them sort out their shit.  Take the sting out of their pain. I hug them a lot. Wipe tears. Tell them that I love them.
 I work in the salon out of necessity.  The money is good. But in reality, it’s because of those women. They beautify my life. Those lovely, Gothic women. They mean everything to me.

No matter what you think, every girl wants a Lloyd Dobler

Jim Court: You’re not a permanent part of her life. You’re a distraction. 
Lloyd Dobler: I’m the distraction that’s going with her to England, sir. 

SAY ANYTHING-1989

After all these years I still want Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack,sigh). There were so many times during my last viewing of the movie, Say Anything, that I just wanted to kick Diane Court (Ione Skye) in the crotch. Doesn’t she realize that Lloyd is the shit? He’s the man. He is the be all, end all. He worships the ground she walks on. Wants nothing more than to love her. Be with her. What does she do? She breaks his heart and gives him a fucking pen. What is that? Why do they portray smart women in movies as such dumb asses? Lloyd may be an under achiever. A kick boxer. But he has a plan. And that plan is to woo and love Diane. With his words, actions and a bit of Peter Gabriel. The movie came out when I was 19. I was a sappy girl. Still am. But at that time,  just his words melted my heart. To this day, they still do.

Lloyd Dobler: What I really want to do with my life – what I want to do for a living – is I want to be with your daughter. I’m good at it. 

I like that he’s willing to give up everything. He doesn’t have much. But he’s willing to give up everything, just to be with her. To love her. Seriously, what woman my age hasn’t wanted a guy to stand outside their window with a boombox over their head, blaring the song, In Your Eyes? Hell I know I did. I STILL DO! Woo me with words. Woo me with music. Throw in a bit of funny. And I’ll be your Diane Court FOREVER!

Yes, I know this post is silly. But I just had to say it. I love Lloyd Dobler. There are men out there that are like him. You single girls, go find them.

Diane Court: I love you. 
Lloyd Dobler: What? 
Diane Court: I love you. How many more times do I have to say it? 
Lloyd Dobler: One more would be nice. 
Diane Court: I love you… please. I love you. 

I’m a Domestic Goddess, Dammit!

I call myself a Domestic Goddess-Roseanne Barr

How do I start this lovely post. Hmmmmm. Well. Let’s see. I was young when I got married. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I was domestically challenged. I had a lot to learn. Fortunately I had a good teacher. Roger Darling was the best. Not the most patient. He laughed at me a lot. Which in turn made me cry. But then we became a good team, he and I. I’m writing on this subject because as I was getting the clean laundry from the dryer yesterday I realized that I had somehow washed and dried a roll of toilet paper with it. Who the hell does that??? Me. ADHD Girl on caffeine. I couldn’t seem to slow down enough to realize that I had grabbed a roll of almost depleted TP and threw it in with the wash?! Thankfully, it didn’t shred in the washer or the dryer. AND it didn’t get stuck on all of the clean clothes so that I had to re-wash them. Whew! It did however bring up some funny memories of other Domestic Goddess SNAFUs.

Like the time we were hanging wall paper and Roger told me to go make dinner for us. I had never cooked for him before. It was just hamburgers for God’s sake. But there I was standing in the kitchen, crying because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I would have rather hung wall paper. I KNEW how to do that. Roger Darling walked into the kitchen and saw me bawling. Hugged me and said, Honey it’s only burgers. We’ll cook together. It kind of led to a marriage long love affair with cooking together. I love to cook now. I think I’m better at it then he is. Really.

Or the time I was washing whites and I threw in a light colored shirt of Rog’s. When I pulled it out of the wash it had turned as white as the socks and dish towels that I washed with it. Guess I wasn’t supposed to use bleach on it. OOPS! Roger just laughed and shook his head. He said not to worry. That I’d learn. And learn I did. But I can tell you I still don’t like the whole Domestic Goddess thing. I’d rather have a root canal some days.

Another good laundry story from back in the day. Roger worked the midnight shift. It was the morning of his bachelor party and my bachelorette party. I had just gotten up and was doing laundry, running around a bit and cleaning. He asked me to iron his pants that he was going to wear to his bachelor party. I was a young, jealous girl. I didn’t like the fact that he was going to a strip club. I turned and looked at him, told him, point blank he could iron his own fucking pants! In no uncertain terms was I going to help him have a good time watching naked chicks dance. Nope, it wasn’t going to happen. And it didn’t. He DID iron his own fucking pants. Ha!

23 years later I’ve kind of gotten the hang of this Domestic Goddess title. I like the fact that Roger Darling and I are partners in housework, laundry, outdoor work, parenting. I never, ever felt like I was doing more than him. There have been times that he’s been more domestic than I have. It’s in his nature to nurture. Me, not so much. I’m a little flighty. But with Rog’s help, I’ve learned so much. And I keep learning. I’m thankful for such a patient, and helpful teacher.

So I sent a letter to the menopause fairy, obviously she hasn’t received it yet!

Yep today I’m going to talk about periods. Don’t worry I’m not going to get disgusting or anything. I’m just going to pitch a bitch, because well, I’m fucking cranky! And I need cake with lots of whipped frosting and sprinkles! Purple sprinkles, for the love of God!

When I was extremely obese I couldn’t have periods. Seems my body created too much estrogen. I know what you’re all thinking… I bet that I was super great to live with. Well, let’s see that would be a big fat NO! I still had the crazy cycle of hormones but no period. AWESOME! NOT! It was even better when I had to take synthetic progesterone for 10 days to then force my body to basically, um, hemorrage for like 5 days. You would have thought that I would have wanted to lose weight just so I could have a normal period. Nope. I wanted to keep stuffing my unhappiness down with some pasta and gravy.

For eight years I did this crazy roller coaster of hormones, no periods, drinking alcohol and weight gain. There were hot flashes, cold sweats, periods of uncontrolled bitchiness, fits of crying. The list goes on, and on, and on. Wait, some of that still goes on today and I’m healthy! 

When the big weight loss journey began over a year ago, the hot flashes subsided. So did the cold sweats. The general bitchiness went away along with my big ass and my sadness. But SURPRISE, the hormones and stars realigned and I felt like I was 12 years old again. I was standing in the bathroom, staring at the package of pads. Strangely elated and disgusted that I had to start this whole damn process all over again. It had been eight years after all. I was kinda hoping I was done with it. Still it was nice to feel like a normal woman again. Though I wouldn’t say I’m exactly the most normal female specimen….

After I started running a few months ago the monthly cycles stopped again. Which was kind of convenient. Who the hell wants to be running a race and have to deal with tampons, pads, ibuprofen and all that other lovely crap??? Of course because I am a bit neurotic, I convinced myself I was pregnant. That had to be it because I was back to normal. I should have my period. Or maybe I was, cue the angels singing, starting menopause!

Roger Darling kept reassuring me that I wasn’t pregnant. He kept saying, Honey you’ve gotten the Essure procedure, you’re fine (Google it. I’m not going to explain it here!). Last week I’d finally had enough. I went to Walgreen’s, bought a damn test and peed on the stick. Roger walked into the bathroom, smacked himself on the forehead and said, I knew that’s what you were doing in here! Two minutes later we looked at each other and just laughed. The test came out negative, of course! Thank the good Lord, because I’m 44. I was a terrible pregnant woman when I was young. I did not want to go through that again.

So now that the first race has been run my training is over and I’m getting back to normal with my exercise, and the dreaded curse has returned. Whew! So off I go to find some good vegan chocolate thingy to eat. Gotta take some ibuprofen too. I might just have to get some neon gummi worms to round out the lovely craving I have for sweets. Or maybe a sucker, or some sweet tarts. Ahhhhh, the pure joys of being a woman. Ain’t it great?????? NOT!

ABC Award from Maggie!!!!

“Every word I write is like a drop of my blood. If it’s flowed passionately and long, I need time to recover from the emotion spent before I began a new story. My characters are my life. I have to respectfully and carefully move between them.” ― Red Haircrow  (Of course I’d have to start this with a quote….)

I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude to Maggie(http://flyawayhomebook.com) for this nomination. I can’t even tell you what it means to me! To actually have a PUBLISHED author like my writing and say that I make her laugh. Why that’s just the kindest, most wonderful compliment ever. Maggie your positive writing helps get me through my day. And by reading your blog and the blogs of others I’m learning so much. Not just about writing but about myself. And for that I’m very grateful.

The award asks recipients to name 26 alphabetical things about themselves and then nominate other blogger. So here it goes….

A = Alive. finally for the first time in years!

B = Bombshell-blonde hair, blue eyes, boobs and a booty.

C = Crazy. I know it and I own it!

D = Ditzy but I’m smart. It might take me a minute to get there, but I’ll get it!

E = Energetic. I run like crazy but when I crash leave me the hell alone!

F = Funny and filthy. I do believe I could make a sailor blush.

G = Gabby. I talk A LOT. And watch out when I’m jacked up on coffee!!!

H = Heart. I love with all of mine. If I love you, you better know I’m going to say it and show it!

I  = Individuality. I’m not afraid to stand out and say what’s on my mind.

J = Jeans. I’m finally wearing skinny ones. Never would have thought I could.

K = Kindness. I believe that everyone deserves love. Even assholes!

L = Liquor. I gave it up almost a year ago. It feels good to be sober.

M = Momma. I do believe that is the best thing I’ve ever been called. Oh and Music. I’m such a music whore!

N = Nail Polish. As in black and dark plum. No red for me. And only on my toes, thank you…

O = Orgasms. Because everyone should have one or two or as many as possible!

P = Perky. I wish I could say that about my boobs, but alas it is just my personality that is anymore… oh and Purple. LOVE purple!

Q = Quiet. It’s something I would like to be more of. I fear it for some reason.

R = Realist. Yes I’m a realist. A humanist but also a realist. I just want to say for fucks sake get over yourself already! And of course my Roger Darling….. I wouldn’t have nearly enough good stories if it wasn’t for him.

S = Sad. I am a lot of the time. I know I’m a walking contradiction. So SUE me! Be in my head for five minutes and you’ll understand.

T = Twilight. Not because of Edward. Though he is a groovy dead guy that I would totally do. But because of Bella. I completely identify with her. She’s broken and clumsy, but she knows exactly what she wants. AND she gets it!

U = Unsure of myself. I know, I know. But I really am.

V = Vagina. I don’t know why, but I love that word!

W = Woman. I am 32 Flavors and then some. I’m nobody, but I AM someone.

X = Xena the Warrior Princess. I’ve always wanted to be like her. I think I kinda am now. Giggle.

Y = Young. Wish I still was sometimes. Hey at least I can still act like I’m 12.

Z = Zest. I have a zest for life. I want to live every moment in the moment.

Now for the blogs I nominate…

http://deanjbaker.wordpress.com – This man makes me swoon with his lovely prose. I love every word he writes….

http://birdmartin.wordpress.com/ -Bird tells great stories about her life. She was one of my first followers. I love what she has to say.

http://kylemew.com/ – Kyle is quite the poet and story teller. Be warned that he is quite graphic. But it is one of the things I really do like about him!

http://thechangeyourlifeblog.wordpress.com/ – Stu I believe was one of my very first followers. I love his positivity. I know that’s not a word but as you’ve observed I do what I like, so I’m making up a word!

http://creativenoodling.wordpress.com/ – I’m new to her page but I’ve gotta say I’m enthralled with what I’ve read so far….

http://moonbeammcqueen.wordpress.com/ -I’ve just started following her. She’s a girl after my own heart. I can so identify with her…..

Please check these wonderful blogs out. You won’t be sorry! And Maggie thanks again for the nomination!