It Ain’t so Funny Being a Funny Girl…

StreisandFunnyGirl2

Funny
Did you hear that?
Funny
Yeah, the guy said
Honey, you’re a funny girl.
That’s me
I just keep them in stitches
Doubled in half,
And though I may be all wrong for a guy,
Im good for a laugh,
I guess it’s not funny,
Life is far from sunny,
When the laugh is over
And the jokes on you,
A girl oughta have a sense of humor
That’s one thing you really need for sure
When you’re a funny girl
The fella said a funny girl
Funny
How it aint so funny,
Funny girl

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That First French Kiss

Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score;
Then to that twenty, adde a hundred more;
A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on,
To make that thousand up a million;
Treble that million, and when that is done,
Let’s kisse afresh, as when we first begun.
~Robert Herrick, “To Anthea (III)”

He was 13, and so was I. We were babies. I was tall, curvy, and built. I may have been 13, but I was 5 ‘ 6″ tall, long flaxen hair, blue eyes, and size DD breasts. He was short, dark haired, and a bad ass. His gorgeous eyes, I fell into on a regular basis. He always liked girls like me. Thick. I remember he took me home to meet his mother and she was convinced I was 18.

He thought I was fast,  cuz I’d kissed a 16 year old boy before. I thought he was adorable. With his backwards baseball cap and smart mouth. I gave him his first French kiss. On Huron Parkway, just before he was about to walk home. I can’t remember if we ever kissed each other again. Or how our story ended. I remember that kiss though. And so does he.

How do I know he remembers? Because we found each other again. 31 years later. We chat from time to time and laugh about how cool we thought we were. Now we’re grown. Have kids of our own. And we pray to God that they don’t do half the crazy shit we did when we were growing up.

I have often thought of him. How life had turned out for him.  It took a mutual friend contacting me on good old Facebook to get us reacquainted. She said, “you know, his mom still talks about you showing up at his house with him and her being convinced you were 18.” I laughed, and told her, “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

I will never forget that kiss though. He was a great kisser. Even at the age of 13, he was a great kisser.

Tales of an Addictive/Compulsive/Impulsive Sparkly Girl

No, I didn’t break out in handcuffs. However, I did break out in stupidity. Read on, dear reader, read on. Oh and on the subject of RDJ, yeah I’d hit that. In 100 different ways. Giggle!!!!

I started writing this on 10/19/2012. Not sure when I will post it. Not sure of anything as of late. Except the fact that life is only as good as you make it. So I’ve decided to make a good life for myself and those around me. First off, I have a confession to make. I am an addictive personality and very compulsive/impulsive. I think with my heart most of the time, and to hell with the outcome. Then my conscience gets the better of me and I have incredible panic and anxiety over my actions. I’ve always been this way. It’s not something I can shut off. It’s something that I must live with and control every day. It sucks, but it’s who I am. Secondly, I am an alcoholic. Yes, I am. My addictive/compulsive/impulsive brain thought that I could drink again after all the weight loss and exercise. What I got was a big, fat nope, you can’t do that!  I got the message after I proceeded to drink a magnum of wine one night and pour my heart out to a friend that I had no business pouring my heart out to.

My Roger Darling knows nothing of this binge and if he reads this post this is where he will find it out. I’ve been married to the man for 23 years. He’s kinda got this sparkly but tarnished girl figured out. For reasons completely unknown to me, he stays. He stays with an addictive/compulsive/impulsive woman who does stupid shit when she drinks. He stays with an addictive/compulsive/impulsive woman when she doesn’t drink and still does stupid shit. He stays. And why does he stay? Because he loves this addictive/compulsive/impulsive woman. Yes he does.  For that, I love him with every part of me that I can.

He sat down with me a few days ago after my wine binge, which he might have known about but didn’t acknowledge, and said, “woman, I love you, get your shit together.”  I said, “you’re right honey, I’m sorry I will.”  AGAIN! I’ve been saying shit like that for hmmmmm, going on 23 years now. That evening he had to go back to work for a few hours. We sat, had coffee, watched the Tigers sweep the Yankees (YAY!) and chatted. I gave him my word that it was a night for me to disconnect. To watch 30 Rock, Up All Night and The Office on NBC. Then it was bed and a book. No computer. No writing. No texting. Nada, nothing, zip, zilch, and zero. And that my friends, is exactly what I did. I threw out the empty wine bottle, I kicked my feet up and watched crappy t.v. Which isn’t that crappy because 30 Rock is the shit! Tracy Morgan makes me laugh so hard, I wet myself. I talked to Roger Darling on the phone. Then crawled into bed with the Wonder Schnauzers nestled around me and slept the best I had in weeks. I never even heard RD crawl into bed with me later that night. I was out!

The next morning, I awoke and I was happy. Maybe even a little sparkle had returned. I’m a little tarnished still. I always will be. Because, well, I’m an addictive/compulsive/impulsive girl. But I’m one that is dearly loved by her Roger Darling, her Meggie, and her Adam Boy. And by many, many, many others.

First and foremost I need to find the love I have for myself. I’m a good person. I have a good heart. I love with all of it. Though not too wisely sometimes. I am smart. I am funny and sarcastic as fuck. I say fuck a lot! I’m a bombshell and dammit, I’m a fucking rock star! Yes, I’m in therapy. And that man is a fucking rock star too. He keeps me in check and makes me realize I AM NOT CRAZY! I am not bi-polar, and I’m not narcissistic. The highs, lows and and intense emotions I feel are what make me, me. This is me!

Here’s a bit of random trivia for you. Robert Downey, Jr. was born April 4, 1965. I was born April 3, 1968. We’re both Aries (stubborn/bullheaded/fiery/passionate/sensual/adventurous/fun). We are both addicts. Why am I not surprised I am born under the same sign and only a day apart. I’ve always loved the man, but now I get it even more. Hey, I watched Biography recently because, well the man flips my damn trigger. I’d let him watch t.v. while he did me for the love of God! Okay, enough about him. DAMN is the man HAWT! Seriously, enough.

I’ve been sober for a week. I’ve been getting better by the day. The depression is waning and so is the anxiety. I went back to exercising. Which is such a good addiction to have. My joints hurt and my muscles are sore. But hey, it’s so much better than a hangover.

Not sure why but the song below resonates with me. He was newly sober, but had incredible support. I have incredible support. So on and on this sparkly but tarnished girl goes. BTW the book writing continues…… On and on I go….. With love in my heart, and love by my side.

Special thanks to Harry for sending me a message to tell me to keep writing. You’ll always be my BFF who gets me. Why in God’s name you are still my friend after 14 years I will never fully understand. But I love you Harry.