Need To Get Back

Writing has always been therapeutic for me.  As I assume it is for most people that blog.

When I started this version of my blog, I was not yet 40.  I intended on writing about dating, sports, reality TV and whatever else seemed to pop into my head.  It mostly centered around dating.  The losers I was talking to from the internet.  The wide world web of dickheads.  The liars, the losers, the freaks.  The really hot ones that would never be interested in a girl like me.

Shortly after turning 40, I met E.  I wrote a lot about him and the journey to us becoming a couple.  But since we’ve become “we”, I haven’t written much.  For a few different reasons.

The first reason is that when things are good, what am I going to say?  “Things are good.  E made me dinner last night.  Then we watched Survivor and went to bed”.  That’s not exciting.  That isn’t worth writing about.

The second reason is that when things are not so good, I’m worried that he will someday track this blog down and read it.  I don’t need that kind of shit.  Like a mother or brother reading your diary.  Who needs it?

I also have nothing interesting to say about sports.  Kings still suck.  LeBron and Curry were in the finals, AGAIN this year.  The Braves aren’t that good.  The Raiders are moving to Vegas.

Ooooohhhh, exciting writing Andi.  Bring on the followers and new comments.

“yes, the Kings are still bad and always will be”

“Go LeBron”

“Go Steph”

So here is my dilemma and I am sincerely looking for feedback.

Do I come on here when needed and vent about things that aren’t perfect in my world? Do I talk about how LaVar Ball is going to ruin his son’s career, before it even gets started?  Do I let myself vent (outloud) about the disaster that is Corinne and DeMario on Paradise?

I miss writing.  I miss the interaction.  I miss getting this shit off my chest, so I don’t take it home and eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.


Random Thoughts On A Wednesday


It’s been a while since I had a random post to just catch up on some things.

I believe at one time, I tried to start Random Wednesday, but I’m either making that up in my head or Wednesdays got forgotten about.

Here’s bunch of nonsense shit from me.

For those of you who might be wondering, E and I are still together.  Last night, he told the roommate she had to move out and had 30 days.  She decided to move out this weekend.  Hold on while I try to contain my excitement!!

For those of you who told me to hang on and see what happens, I love you all!

For those of you who thought I was a lunatic for believing in him, I love you too.  But this relationship is proof positive of two things 1) when you meet the right man, situations can change, quickly.  2) Tinder may be considered a “hook up” app, but relationships can follow the “hooking up”.

On a related note, relationships can work when you put out on the first date.

Girls are mean.  I guess I should say that girls can be mean.

It’s very possible that a 13 year friendship has ended because of some mean things a “friend” said to me.  I refuse to apologize.  I didn’t do anything wrong.

After 13+ years, me getting married and subsequently divorced, her getting divorced, her daughter being on drugs and running away, her having shitty relationships, me having shitty relationships and her becoming a grandma, she was willing to throw the whole relationship away.  Poof.

She told me that I was a horrible friend, that she was tired of being there for me, that I shouldn’t have attended a birthday party that I was invited to and then told me “Fuck You”.  Ok.  Perfect.  I hung up.

I did nothing to warrant that outburst and frankly, this is far from the first time.  I will not contact her, will not apologize.  She owes me a big time apology.

Please remember, when you are drunk, your words can sting.

I am an avid Bachelor/ette watcher.

Fluff television?  Maybe.  All scripted?  Maybe.

Intriguing beyond words?  You bet!

A few words on Boring Bachelor Ben’s women:

  • The twins from Las Vegas are mentally WAY too young for Ben.  And annoying.  They have their occupation listed as “Twin”.  You aren’t getting paid for it, unless you are doing porn together.
  • Olivia is a crazy lady.  And I don’t mean crazy in a cute little way (like me), I mean bat shit crazy!  And she looks like Cameron Diaz, if Cameron Diaz did crack her whole life.
  • I was a little sad to see Lace go last week.  Her antics were the best.  She said “I’m not crazy!” like 483 times in the first three episodes, to Ben, to the camera and to the other girls.  That’s a sure way to convince someone.
  • I really, really like Becca.  She was on Boring Farmer Chris’ season and clearly he should have picked her, but he apparently is extremely attracted to Muppets.  Becca is stunningly beautiful, soft spoken, looks to stay away from the drama and is a virgin.  Go Becca!

I can’t really give much more of an opinion, because I cheated and looked on the internet to see who Ben chose.  Damn Reality Steve.

I look forward to the Extreme Boring!

I started writing a blog two years ago.  It was about dating and just getting feelings out.  It had a different name and I guess in a way, I was a little bit different person.  I wrote about dear friends dying of cancer and memories of my grandparents.  I wrote about struggles with anxiety and funny stories that I had gone through in my world.  I loved it.

I had to delete that blog and start over because of a small stalker issue.  I am sorry that I had to delete it and lose all the stories I had on there.  All the emotions that went in to those writings.

However, I can say, I cherish this new blog.  I cherish the people I have met on here and been able to form friendships with.  One woman in particular has become a confidant and a big supporter.  I love her for this.  She’s across the States from me and some days, I feel like she’s right here.  You know who you are…thank you.

That’s all in my random life right now.

I feel like I’m walking on clouds today.

If You Are Reading This…


I had a comment on my last post that was hateful and hurtful from someone who has never commented on anything of mine, but stated that they have been reading my blog for some time.

I trashed the comment because it was awful.  If you have something constructive to say, whether I agree or not, fine.  I’ll post it because I know that my decisions aren’t always the best and I look for help.

But because you are an asshole, hiding behind a keyboard, let me clear up a few things for you.

Yes, I did have my daughter very young.  I was 17 when I got pregnant and 18 when I had her.  I proceeded to become a single mom, shortly after my 19th birthday, because her father used to beat the shit out of me.  He cracked a vertebrae in my neck and I decided that saving my life and having my daughter grow up with her mother, was more important than trying to make that relationship work.

Two other quick notes on that (not that you deserve it you asshole or bitch) but I feel very blessed to have had her so young because my grandfather got to meet her, before he passed away when she was three months old and also, I would never regret having my daughter, NO MATTER MY FUCKING AGE.

Being a single mom is difficult, as a teenager, it’s worse.  So fuck you and your self-righteous attitude.  You don’t fucking know me.

Second of all, let me address you telling me that I still act like I’m in high school for putting out on the first date.  Again, you don’t fucking know me.  I go out on lots of dates where there is no chemistry, no kissing let alone sex.  But how fucking boring is that story and why in the world would I feel the need to blog about those.

You want to judge me for putting out on the first date?  Fine, go ahead.  But it is really easy to hide behind a keyboard and throw stones.

Here’s a little fact about me that you probably don’t have any fucking clue on, or maybe because it doesn’t fit in to you theory of me, you just don’t pay attention.  I slept with my ex husband on the first date.  We were married for 10 years and he is still one of my best friends.  And before you get all carried away, I was the one who asked for the divorce.

So yes, you mother fucker, whoever the fuck you are, you go ahead and think whatever the fuck you want about me.

I survived a violently abusive relationship.

I was a single mom as a teenager and raised the best child possible.  She doesn’t drink, smoke or have sex.  She’s got a full time job and pays her own bills.

I was married to a man who I have been able to maintain a friendship with, even though the marriage didn’t work.

I am not perfect.  Never have claimed to be.

I don’t always make the right decisions.  I have never claimed too.

I love sex.  I am not ashamed of that.

I am not pushing E for a relationship.  If you paid attention, you fucking asshole, you would know that.


This will be the last thought and the last bit of attention you ever get from me.


Friday Nonsense


Do you ever wake up in the morning (or afternoon) and just have a million things going on in your mind?  Nothing bad.  Nothing good.  Nothing even remotely related to each other?

I do.

Maybe I’m a lunatic.  Maybe I have ADD.  Maybe I am just a woman.

I woke up this morning and showered, as I do most mornings except weekends.  I’m lazy.  It takes a lot of effort to wash this hair.  Then dry it, curl it.  Fix make up.  It’s a lot of work to be a lady.

Anyway, in the shower, I realized that I need to go back to the tanning bed.  My cellulite is showing again and lets face it, cellulite is WAY prettier when it’s tan.  Ok, maybe “prettier” isn’t the right word.  It’s less noticeable when it’s tan.  I can also tell when I need to start tanning again because my arms, which are exposed to the sun, are a lot tanner than my stomach and legs.  NOT GOOD.  Back to the tanning bed I go.

After I tan today, I have to go to the post office and restart my mail service.

I live in a condo complex with the group mail boxes.  Well, I am pretty bad about checking my mail.  I pay all my bills online and don’t really care for the other shit that constantly gets delivered.  However, because my mailbox doesn’t hold very much, they will eventually stop delivering.  The mailman puts a pretty bright yellow note in your mailbox, telling you to pick up your mail at the post office.

Here’s the thing, if you don’t’ pick it up in 10 days, they will return it to the sender.

The pretty yellow note I have is dated 3/6/15.  Yep.  March.  They took my mail away in March and have been sending it back to the senders, ever since 3/16/15.  Oops!

Normally, I wouldn’t give one fuck.  Except, now, for two reasons, I do care.

1) I realized that I owe the IRS money and they have probably been sending me bills.  Now, the mail is getting returned and they think I’ve moved.  They think I’m hiding.  They probably have some bounty hunter after me now.  Trying to locate me.  Well, joke is on you IRS, I am just lazy and don’t like checking my mail.

2) My birthday is in 6 days.  My 40th Birthday.  I might be getting a birthday card or some money or something.  You just never know.  Luke Bryan may be sending me an autographed pair of man panties.  I REALLY need to go to the post office.  I do not want them to “Return To Sender” my birthday gift from Luke Bryan.

The lady at the post office is mean. She’ll probably yell at me.  I need to come up with a good reason why I haven’t picked up my mail in almost 4 months.  Vacation?  Hiding from the FBI?  Recovering from being run over by a herd of rhinos?

I’ll keep thinking.

Per my previous posts about the 29 year old, I texted him this week to find out exactly where we stood.  I am confused on the situation.  I haven’t seen him in a month, which I’m ok with because two weeks of that was military reserve training.  I just need clarification, so I could continue to try to be ok with this.

After a couple attempts at trying to pen the perfect text message, I finally sent one.

After a couple hours of waiting patiently (not at all), he finally responded.

He said that I was the only person he was dating and that he liked me a lot.

Ok, I suppose that is some confirmation.  I’m glad he likes me and I’m glad he’s not out being a man-whore.  It doesn’t really answer my question about where we are right now, but since I didn’t’ directly ask that, I’ll take it.

I miss him.  I like him.  I cannot wait to see him.

I may have really caused a problem with Mr. Rocker and instead of dealing with it like a mature adult, I’m just going to avoid and ignore him.  It’s horrible and I hate when people do that shit to me, but I have tried being honest and he doesn’t get it.

When I was drunk on Saturday and decided it would be a good idea (yet again) to kiss him, I told him he was one of my best friends and that nothing more would ever happen.  I said those exact words.  EXACT. WORDS.

He doesn’t get it.

In Mr. RockerLand, apparently after two kisses, in a year, we are married or something.  Kind of sucks because I didn’t even get a new dress for the ceremony.  If you are gonna get married, at least you should have a new dress.

Yesterday, out of the complete blue, he sent me a picture of some scenic place and told me where he was and that he was having lunch.  Then ended his text with ‘NICE’.

First of all, I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to say NICE about something you are doing without the other person asking.  That is usually something you say to someone.  They send you a picture of them in bed with Blake Shelton and you respond with ‘NICE’.  Wait, I take that back, if I was in bed with Blake Shelton, I probably would post the picture everywhere with the comment ‘NICE’, right under it.  Bad example.

Disclaimer: Miranda, please don’t get mad and hunt me down.  I’m just using Blake as an example, I’ve never actually met him, nor been anywhere close to a bed with him.

Second of all, Mr. Rocker, I did not ask where you were eating lunch or what your view was.  I literally give zero fucks.  Not one fuck.  Actually, the picture he sent me, is like a picture of my field of fucks.  There are none growing in it.  I almost sent him a picture of my break room at work and said “My view while eating my lunch.  NICE.”  But I decided that would be way to bitchy, even for me.

Last of all, he sent a text message to our karaoke group and asked if either of us ladies would like to go see Magic Mike XXL with his mom.  She apparently wants to have a girls day to see that movie.  I never saw the first one and I am not going to go watch the second one, with my wanna-be husband’s mom, who I have met one time.  This will NEVER happen.  So I ignored both text messages.

If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

I spent last night watching the NBA Draft and cleaning my house.  I have been meaning to clean my house for weeks, but things keep coming up.  Dates.  Laziness.  Filleting my thumb open.  But last night, I was motivated.

I sat on my ass for the first 10 picks of the draft.  The Sacramento Kings had the number six pick and let’s face it, after the first 10 picks, you don’t really know any of the players, unless you are an avid college basketball watcher.  I only watch the Final Four.

During the commercials, I started laundry and did the dishes.  After the initial ten players, I got off my ass and actually set out to clean my house.  I don’t mean put some stuff away and shove magazines under the couch type cleaning.  I got in my shower and scrubbed my tub, I took out all my trash that had accumulated in bags, because I’m lazy.

*See above on checking mail.  LAZY*

I finished all my laundry, including putting everything away.  I vacuumed the whole house.  Cleaned both bathrooms.  Swept and wiped down all the counters and mirrors.

My house looks badass.

When I woke up this morning, I noticed how sore my body was.  Literally, my hips and lower back are aching.  I guess I should add “Go to the Gym” to my to-do list.  I’m pretty sure my body shouldn’t ache, after cleaning house.  OR maybe I should start having sex again.  It has been a while.

I’m looking forward to the Bachelorette on Monday.

That’s all about that.

So that, my friends, is my Friday Nonsense.  Maybe this will be a new feature on this blog.  Maybe it won’t.  I’m pretty bad at remembering stuff like that.