haven't changed much

There was an experiment done with burgeoning talkers around the ages of 2-3 years. They discovered that 90% of a boys' vocabulary is sound effects, while 90% of a girls' vocabulary is completely about herself. I am hungry, I am sad, blah blah blah. Now that I am a grown woman I have discovered that 90% of my vocabulary starts with I... hmmm....

i had forgotten

I had forgotten that I created this blog. I read my only angry blog and discovered that I don't recognize the person that wrote that this time last year. Odd. Although, it was moodily descriptive. But, mostly angry. These days I am working toward a positive attitude and a healthier state of being. I want to be in a place mentally that I can be completely honest with myself and not covering my innermost feelings with coulds, woulds and shoulds. I know I don't always love the person I am, I am moody, judgmental, irresponsible and spoiled. But mostly I am evolving.

another night on the town

So it happened again this weekend. Friday night was fun, dancing at a perfectly drunk stupor like a perfect whore until my thighs hurt from the effort of dropping it like it's hot, and performing a lapdance on my designated driving husband as he sits with a grin on his face and I am the center of his fantasy world.
Saturday night, not so good, not so wanton, not so wanting to be where we were at a new place spending too much money with a live band (that was good mind you) but not fun to dance to unless you swing dance or know every line dance ever created by man. Who line dances to "apple bottom jeans and the boots with the fur" anyway? Of course they only played those songs between sets. Hmm, it was interesting and the girls there, vegas strip club hot, expensive boob jobs, bulimia and all. Back to me, mother of five, feeling a bit unsexy with my extra ten pounds of Christmas Cookie weight that I still can't drop like it's hot, not drunk enough to dance like a whore to Brad Paisley's Alcohol. In my infinite soberness (and pms) I notice my husband of 15 years drooling uncontrollably over some girl with huge parasitic breasts on her frail ten year old boy frame and I fume! I give him some time, but he is twisting himself on his bar stool in a Linda Blair, demon possessed, unnatural, don't hurt yourself kind of way so that he can STARE at her wantonly. A little obvious? Uh yeah. He leans over and says in a eewww she's unnaturally oddly shaped voice,"do you see that girls proportions?" I didn't know which one at first, but figured it out pretty quickly. "What's not to like?" He adds. "You should go for it," I say in a cold, vicious, tone wishing my words would cut off his penis and feed it to him! I went to the bathroom and he had the audacity to be angry with me for the rest of the night, not speaking to me except to tell me that I was bitchy. Fuck you very much. Just another one of those nights that make you wonder if drinking really is worth the consequences.