I’m often asked what I’m passionate about and I can’t think of a single thing. If I had to grab stuff and leave my apartment forever, I wouldn’t angst over too much. Pictures of the kids, this laptop, maybe a couple of favorite books. It’s just stuff.

I have interests. Right now it’s podcasting, but if you told me I had to stop tomorrow I’d be bummed but it wouldn’t like, break my heart. I used to love to read but I can’t tell you the last time I sat engrossed in a book.

I have future plans to somehow get an RV to move into permanently and just take off across the country. Not enough gumption to actually make any moves in that direction, mind you. I figure my credit is shit and it’ll never happen, so I guess I haven’t really invested my heart into that either.

I feel I’m trudging through life. It used to be when the kids were set, I’d go. But the kids are pretty much out on their own (I’m still around for quick rescues and babysitting) but I’ve no ambition make a move. My lease is up August 1st so I’d be free.

Wow, that’s not where I’d planned this post to go…

Anyway, about passion. I can’t think of anything I’m not meh about. Maybe Kira, but aren’t most Grandparents a bit overboard about teh babees? I like social media events, but I don’t get upset if I miss a few. I enjoy IgnitePhx and ImprovAZ stuff, but again I wouldn’t sit home and cry if I had to um, sit home.

Why am I so closed off? I don’t feel. I keep going hoping something will strike – something will spark an interest. Something that’s more than just going through the motions.

Is that depression?

18 months ago tonight was the last time…

I’ve stopped looking. I certainly don’t expect anything that serendipitous to happen again, nor anything more average either. I’ve been hit on exactly once since then if you don’t count my long-lost friend who lives across the frakking country. I don’t expect anything to happen there either. It’s a nice thought though.

You know what I miss most? I miss skin. I miss naked tactile contact. I was never much of a hugger before but now I am, and I think it’s a sub-conscience substitute for that more intimate contact. I think that might be what I miss most about being married… freedom of touching.

My last little encounter, while pleasant, wasn’t even close to good – fast, fun, and other than it being situationally interesting, forgetful.

So what’s wrong with me? I get out and socialize. I’ve stopped actively hunting and being quite so obvious about my needs. I’m clean and not that fat. Everyone tells me they like me, I have friends, and even the occasional meaningless flirtage. But I can’t seem to connect with anyone. I just don’t get it.

What the hell am I doing wrong?

There is. A big ugly as we call it, means something ugly happened and we need to talk about it, or deal with it, or bury it in the backyard.

It’s really personal, so if you’re just a random Debbie’s kinda funny reader ya might wanna skip this one.

Ready?

A couple of months ago Ginnie mentioned that Brittany (my niece who lived with us for a couple of her emotional teenage years) told her a big ugly. That Buck had touched her (at least once) inappropriately. That’s about all I got… you know getting information second-hand isn’t something you act upon. My first thought was bullshit, then well… maybe who knows right? Thousands of spouses always say NEVER! So I suggested to Ginnie that she maybe ask her girlfriends in a round-about way if anything he did made them uncomfortable. Other than him just being himself; he always made the kid’s friends nervous.

And then it festered in the back of my mind and I mentioned it to a few close friends.

So… Casey and Kira and Ginnie went to their father’s for Thanksgiving. Apparently the liquor was flowing freely and when Ginnie’s boyfriend Roger went to pick her up TheNewWife kept him busy chatting and then told him to leave, meanwhile Buck kept Ginnie distracted until she was so drunk she passed out.

Then sometime in the middle of the night he crept in and groped her. His own daughter. Complete what the fuckage. She said she pretended to be asleep and kind of moved away and waited a few minutes til he left the room. Then went out and told him she needed to go home RIGHT NOW. He said he was too drunk to drive (which come to find out he was) but she didn’t care and he brought her home.

What the hell happened to the man I married? This person, this THING he is now is so not anything like he was then. I could have never imagined he would act this way. I don’t understand it. FUCK blaming it on the drink. Does the constant drinking just make it easier for him to violate common decency?

So we don’t really know what to do. She’s not going to raise a stink about any of it. She’d rather just never get anywhere near him again than be all confrontational. And with it being all she-said and he’ll-deny…

I know you read just about everything I post, so here’s your head’s up. If I ever see your miserable face again you son of a bitch, I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out. Fuck with my kids again? I’ll pay someone to cut your dick off and feed it to you. I have lots of friends now, someone will know someone. And the moment I have some sort of proof or evidence or something other than her word against yours, your ass is fucked you PRICK! Vengeance is mine sayeth the Mom. I hope you rot in your bottle. All that drinking can’t be doing much for your new wife… that OR your tiny useless dick… but do you have to get your thrills from your own daughter? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Even I have stuff I can’t talk about. For instance there’s a couple of horrible bullshit things going on in my life over the last couple of weeks and you haven’t heard anything from me.

One will be resolved this Thursday, hopefully. If not, I’ll be blowing up here and you’ll know about it then. If all goes as planned, you won’t ever need to know. Cryptic enough?

The other will be an ongoing . . . I hate to use the word investigation but questioning? Checking out?  Someone told me something criminal/evil/horrible about my ex that doesn’t compute. So I’m planning to ask around if this “thing” had happened with other people – for corroborating evidence sort of – because I’m not completely sure about the accuser. Not that I don’t believe, but I don’t disbelieve either. I don’t know. So I’ll be asking around as soon as I figure out how to approach the subject. Tricky. The thing is, even if it’s true there’s not a lot I can do about it now. Except blow up here, right? So if there’s corroborating evidence, then you’ll hear all about it. Again, cryptic enough?

See, I can be circumspect when I need to be.

I know I’m always putting it out there that I’d like a… companion, partner, romp, date, etc. But every girl has to have her standards, right? It seems like the only men who try to hit on me are of the um, er, unfortunately unblessed variety. There’s one man in our social group who creeps out everyone not just me, that hints he’d like to get together. There’s also another person I see very occasionally that has also hit on me in the past, even before he started broadcasting his kinky proclivities.  These people I can be polite/civil to and keep up the social thing and not hurt anyone’s feelings. Because if I were to open my mouth and tell them what I really think, well I wouldn’t be all that nice about it.

But Casey has this friend I’m about to lose my patience with. There’s this teasing thing amongst most of his friends, we flirt with each other in front of Casey just to make him uncomfortable. It’s fun and it’s ALL in fun, right? Except this guy:

yuk

This is his going to a child’s birthday outfit. Yes, that’s a beer can in his hand. He brought his own. His usual outfit is this type of shirt in yellow or orange, and *shudder* shorts even shorter in other washed out colors.

You ladies are squirming right now?

The other night I was at Casey’s for dinner and he showed up. My twitter comments show the feelings I couldn’t say out loud:

• Crap, yet another guest arrives. SkinCrawl makes me want to barf. I’m hiding in the bedroom. I need a smoke! NO! #
• 18:59 Stop talking to me! I’d rather take a hot poker up the ass than be polite to you, ya freak! #
• 19:06 He asks what I’m texting. Truth? How vile and disgusting you are. Politer answer: Nuttin.

So at Kira’s birthday party someone asked me if I wanted a piece of cake and I said no, then this guy sidles up to me, actually wiggles his eyebrows and said, “You want a piece of this? And I’m not talking about the cake.”

AAAAarrrrrrrgggggh. No thank you.

Alright nicer people than me, how does one turn aside unwanted attention without being too disruptive to the group status quo? Not that I think I’m so much better than anyone else, don’t you know. But if someone makes your flesh crawl?

I forgot to mention his name is Buck.

Hell yes, R and I are talking on Facebook! And on the phone.

Shut UP!

I’m talking like a teenager because suddenly I feel more like a teenager. I’m almost giddy.

Giddy. Me.

Oh I don’t know, there are tentative discussions of visits and hawt secks. Because if memory serves, ALL our sex was hawt secks. I’m not holding my breath or banking on this. Years of trashed expectations and disappointments have taught me to not get excited about anything until it happens.

We’ll see maybe in a couple of months. I really need to brush up on my phone sex. Actually, that might be the only kind of sex I’ve never had. I’m much more of a hands on (among other parts) person.

In the meantime, I don’t give a rat’s ass if that neighbor guy ever comes over for a booty call anymore. I have better options ahead… I hope.

I had the best birthday party ever last night. Well, technically Sheila had the party FOR me. Sheila throws a great party so I kind of bulldozed her by saying on the air that I wanted her to throw MY party. She’s so great.

I didn’t want a HUGE amount of people, so I was pretty careful to whinny the guest list to just our most entertaining and party happy friends, half of whom didn’t show up. I should have been less discriminating I guess.

I think the people who did show up had fun. I had a blast! It was Hawaiian themed because I actually have a Hawaiian dress. So I got lei-ed and lei-ed people all night. Sheila attempted her first red velvet cake but it ended up being more brown than red. I was happy she tried, despite the end result. Keesha brought SPAM truffles and SPAM in a blanket.

And I got lots of Strongbow. And birthday cards with hot men on the cover. And Sea Monkeys.

I haven’t updated about Her lately, but I’ve come across some information today so I thought I’d share.

“Her” being Casey’s ex-wife. Kira’s so-called mother. Venus (Sky) Walker. The Whore.

Casey hasn’t been able to contact her or find her since the end of January. Today I looked her up on MySpace and lo-and-behold she lists her location as Indiana!

So this is what I posted openly on her comments page.

Your daughter would like to know if you’re ever ever going to call her or visit. She asks for her mommy every day. What the fuck is this Indiana shit? Did you fucking leave the state without contacting your DAUGHTER? Shall we just write you off forever? I’m goddamn disappointed that you can’t even make the tiniest effort.
Since JANUARY!

If you give a rat’s ass, they’re living with me now. And you can be sure I don’t give a damn about your excuses. Maybe you should amend your little blurb to say you repeatedly abandon your firstborn. I can’t wait for the day she stops whining for you.

Have a nice life.

It just pisses me off that she puts out this loving mother shit. Loving mother my ass, she doesn’t even bother to call. A phone call. Call collect!

Shortly after I posted that I got a friend request from Matt’s mother. Matt is the guy she was living with. Not the real father of her twin daughters mind you, just the guy who tried to step up. This woman sent me a long letter about the shenanigans the cow has been up to. She met some new guy on the Internet, took those girls to INDIANA and after new guy “mistreated” her, she’s now in a homeless shelter. And talking about dumping those babies on the state. Useless bitch. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for her.

How can one woman do so much to fuck up so many people’s lives?

Good riddance to bad rubbish. Now we have to figure out how to explain to Kira (over time) that her mother never cared enough about anyone else to bother to make any effort. It’s not Kira’s fault, but you know kids always believe that they are responsible. I need to find out how to word it just the right way to do the least amount of damage to this little girl.

Home alone. Sweet!

Slept in, got my podcast editing done (finally) and now I’m catching up on my DVR stuff.

Ginnie went camping Thursday night with her gang and should be back late this afternoon. Maybe before, because it’s been snowing up where they are. I’m not looking forward to the whining and bitching when she gets back but I’ll admit to a bit of amusement at their discomfort now.

Casey took the kid to his friend’s so they could all do the Easter Bunny/eggs/candy thing together. Doesn’t bother me a bit to miss any of it.

I’m watching Krod Mandoon and it’s pretty bad. Awful. Stupid. Okay the guy playing Krod is cute, and looks damned fine without a shirt but maybe this would be better on mute. I won’t be recording any more episodes.

And as soon as I get this latest Evo@11 episode uploaded, I’m going back to bed BECAUSE I CAN!

Finally!

I’ve been bugging this kid for weeks to get decent pictures taken. She kept saying she’d get her friend to take them to save money. Fine, just DO IT!

And here’s the best of the bunch.

Click on the pic to get to the entire set. Lisa Nickle took over 100 pictures over the course of the day. She did a great job. I ordered business-sized cards from moo cards because I just couldn’t get the pictures to look good on mini cards like mine.

And Lisa and her sister are making beautiful hand-made announcements. All we have left to do is gather everyone’s addresses and get prints of some of these made.