I feel guilty that I haven't been blogging as regular as I used to. Not because it's hurting you, my bored and needy blog reader - but mostly because I enjoy to write in here so much. It breaks up my night and fulfills a desire to use big words that I can't use face-to-face on account of surrounding myself with idiots most of the time.

Don't worry. I don't mean you. I mean some other idiot. Ahem, moving on.

Today is Easter. This doesn't really hold a lot of meaning for me aside from finally giving into my Lent sacrifice (no Brussel Sprouts, it was torture) and an opportunity to remiss about memories of Easter past. And really that second part is a lie - because really the only memory I have is one from the 80's of getting an Easter basket with a Debbie Gibson tape in it. Lame I know. Seems to me that Easter is just another Christian holiday stolen by the gluttonous bastards at Hallmark trying to make a buck by secularizing everything and forcing you to spend gobs of your hard-earned money on shit that is bad for you. I think today alone I ate about ten pounds of chocolate. Let me also state for the record that I don't get Easter baskets anymore and the candy that I ate was mostly stolen from the stock I bought for my boys and from leftover "snacks" I packed on the airplane for Arizona. I'm ashamed at myself. My eating has gone from bad to badder to worsest. It's disgusting. I must try to get back on track lest I become one of those fatties at the pool wearing a swim dress and a barrel to hide my flab.

Like this girl even:


I mean, the 1920's (ironically enough, long before the portion size in this country got out of control) - they had the right idea. More fabric and less skin. And an ugly ass head wrap/bonnet too. In case seeing your hair might possess someone to have sex with you (before marriage!) right at the pool. I'm bringing this look back in a bad way. Don't be mad you didn't think of it first... while everyone else is wearing thongs and takinis, I will be sporting my chunkadunk bod in a 1922 edition bathing suit. Only minus the umbrella. Need both my hands to hold my cigarettes and my cheese steak sub. Moving on....



So yeah last week I went to Arizona. It's so beautiful there. Warm. Nice. Less bums. Less surprise snow storms. More trees. Family members that actually give a crap about my children. You know, stuff you take for granted in normal life. I actually looked up nursing jobs over there and apartments. I just think it would benefit my children, really. And my Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Don't laugh. I really do have that. You're so mean.

I've recently discovered that no matter how much you try, you can't fake feelings. Good or bad, negative or positive - you feel what you feel when you feel it. Ya feel me? Of course, you could live your whole life repressing said feelings in hopes that the truth will never surface and you never have to present yourself as the homosexual/serial killer/cross dresser that you are on the inside. But really - only you know how you feel about something or someone. I'm so tired of other people giving me advise on what's best *for me*. Or telling me statistics. Or using their own reference or story to pigeonhole it for the rest of us. I'm confusing you, I can tell. I guess what I'm trying to say is I try not to follow any real standard set of guidelines when it comes to what to do about my relationships in life. Growing up, all I saw was bad relationships between my father and mother, my stepfather and mother - my own boyfriends (some of them anyway). And you know, you can't let other people be your guide to your own happiness... you have to create it yourself. And if it means breaking a conventional rule - or going against what might seem rational - so be it.

I'm not making any sense. See this is why I don't try to get serious ever on my blogs. I should stick with things I know - humor, making fun of myself and meatloaf recipes. Oh - and quotes from 80's John Hughes movies.

Well, folks my battery is near death and I have you to blame. And all of the Asian pornos I was downloading in the background. Guess my multi-tasking has caught up to me. I am off of work tomorrow so I will be chilaxin' around the house, digesting rabbit shaped candy and trying to find a new place to live come July. Hopefully something with a yard and no downstairs neighbor to piss off/torment. If any of my blog readers happen to be wealthy property owners looking for a good tenant who pays the bills on time and may or may not scream loudly at night in the bedroom (with my children! You're so perverted!!), shoot me an email. Just don't judge me by my FICO. It's negative something, I'm sure.

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you - it probably forgot its expensive waffle iron and wanted to smear feces on your flat panel TV out of revenge.