Is it too soon for me to play this game?

We shall see…

*****

*theme song*

WELCOME TO THE DATING GAME!

Host: Our next bachelorette is a 40-year old 2-time loser divorcee from Utah, who likes music, movies, camping, and crafts, feels horny alone, and feels the need to get laid get back out there. Please welcome…STACEY!

*applause*

Host: So, Stacey. You’ve signed up on a couple of online dating sites.

Me: Yes I have. (No, I’m not gonna tell you which sites I signed up on. And no, it wasn’t eHarmony, cuz they have this tiny little ANNOYING quirk that your divorce has to actually be FINAL before they will let you become a member. And it wasn’t yet. Assholes.)

Host: You’ve survived the challenges of creating a username (eliciting help from a friend who has experience in online dating, laughing at every suggestion she came up with, and in the end choosing an absolutely retarded safe name), completing your profile, uploading a picture, and writing your description.

Me: *nervous laugh* Y-yes.

Host: And you’re not looking for anything serious?

Me: That’s correct. I just want to meet new people and have some fun.

Host: Well great! Let’s get to know the bachelors then!

Me: Bachelor #1, you have a really nice smile.

B1: Thanks.

Me: How would we get to know each other better?

B1: Well, we would start by e-mailing each other while you are in Vegas for the weekend with friends. After a few great e-mails, you would give me your cell number.

Me: Sounds good.

B1: We would start texting each other and those would be good too. I’d even suggest that we go dancing so that we can fix your out-of-practice 2-step. We would trade pictures and your friends would tell you I’m cute.

Me: I like that.

B1: And on the day you’re going back home I would ask if you made it back to the hotel before dawn. Then I would comment that your trip couldn’t have been all that great if you didn’t gamble and didn’t hook up with anyone.

Me: Oh……ok.

B1: We would continue to trade texts for a few hours while you are driving back home. And then I would just stop texting. For no reason. And when you send me an email a few days later, I won’t respond.

Me: ………

B1: And to top it all off, a week later, I’ll include you in a generic holiday greeting I send to all my contacts. That spans 7 text messages.

Me: Well, you would only have been the 1st I’ve met, so cute or not, I won’t let you discourage me. But you should know that I would think you’re an asshole. I’m just saying.

Me: Bachelor #2, same question.

B2: Have you had any luck yet?

Me: Not yet. I’m new to this. What about you?

B2: I’m new too.

Me: So how would we get to know each other better?

B2: Sex.

Me: Wha?

B2: Sex. You want sex, right?

Me: (YES!) No, that’s not what I’m looking for. (That’s good. Sound innocent so he won’t think you’re a ho.)

B2: Well, it’s been over a year for me. And I’m a nice guy. And you’ll get an orgasm.

Me: (Which means you’re prolly an axe murderer. And it shouldn’t matter that it’s been over a year for me too.) Mmmm… (Oh shit. Did I say that OUT LOUD?)

Me: Bachelor #3.

B3: Pick me! Hint hint.

Me: What would be your idea of a good first date?

B3: Well, after trading some text messages, I would suggest that you should invite me over for a drink, cuz you clearly need ice or…something. You would invite me over, we would have a few drinks, talk, and get to know each other.

Me: That sounds nice.

B3: At the end of the date, I would act confused on whether I should shake your hand, hug, or kiss you. You would offer me a hug, and I would not let you go very quickly, even though you try to pull away. I would insist on quite a few more hugs before I leave, too.

Me: Um……

B3: After I got home, I would text you pictures of my cats and tell you I wish I had gotten even more hugs from you. Then I would text you just about every day (including more cat pics) and tell you I miss your company. And your liquor cabinet.

Me: Making me wish you would lose my number. Like yesterday. The people I text every day are those that I’ve known for a couple of DECADES. Not a couple of DAYS. Btw, can I get your last name? I need it for the restraining order.

*****

Perhaps it is too early for me to be playing this game.

P.S. It’s taken me forever to finish writing this.

P.P.S. I keep having to stop writing and start drinking.

P.P.P.S. To try to forget.

P.P.P.P.S. That Bachelor #3 WON’T. STOP. TEXTING. ME.

P.P.P.P.P.S. I think I might put Bachelor #2 on speed dial.

I’m concerned with how big the word fucking is. Sorta.

And now I just made it worse. Oye.


**********
Click here to get your own Wordle.

Yeah, I REALLY gotta stop being so generous to the damn weasels. I mean, what have they ever done for me?

Created by Oatmeal

Today was the beginning of spring break for my daughter. Spring break. *sigh* What a joke.

I grew up in California. That is, if you don’t count the 9 months I spent in Arizona cuz my parents wanted to try something new. Which I don’t.

So.

I grew up in California and dealt with traditional school years K-12. That meant 2 weeks off for Christmas and 1 week off for spring break. One. Week. We lived for this week. Spring fever usually started kicking in right about this time and you needed a break to 1) gear yourself up for the home stretch of the school year 2) work on a list of good excuses to tell your parents why you were not going to be allowed to advance to the next grade/graduate/etc. 3) devise your plan of attack on all those fucking pussies that looked at you wrong at school (Yeah you know who you were asshole! So say hello to my little friend!).

Oh wait. This wasn’t supposed to be about me. Oops. Moving on.

Where we live now is a year-round school program. That means 3 months on, 3 weeks off. And everyone gets like 3 weeks off for the summer. Who thinks this shit up? Seriously? For Christmas, the students get barely a week and a half off (Unless you’re the lucky fuckers that were either off track before or go off track immediately after the winter break. Seems totally fair don’t you think?) And spring break? Three. Damn. Days. Except the previously mentioned ‘lucky fuckers’. Assholes.

If I didn’t love where I live so damn much (which you have to take in stride bcuz I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF A HOSTAGE CRISIS HERE PEOPLE), I would tell them to take their year-round program and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. BUT. I might actually tell them that anyway, cuz you can’t throw a rock around here without hitting a Mormon, and y’all know how much I love fucking with Mormons, so there ya go.

No, not fucking Mormons people. Fucking with Mormons. With. WITH.

Perverts.

Anyway. You can imagine how excited the kids get around here for their spring break. They have to be. It’s over and done with in the blink of an eye. And with it being April 1st, they’re hoping for sun and at least semi-decent temperatures so they can play. Yeah, well, Mother Nature is a vicious bitch sometimes (and not just once a damn month, ya know?). So, what do you think we woke up to this morning?

Snow. Again.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t an April Fool’s pranks. And believe me I sure was wishing for it to be while I was shoveling my driveway this morning. But I did think that it would be a great day to take my daughter sledding, since it just might be the last snow we get this season. Yeah yeah. I know. Wishful thinking on my part with the way this winter has been.

So I took my daughter and one of her friends sledding this afternoon. They had a really good time and I thought I would share a couple of pics with y’all.

This one is of Ashley and her friend:

And this is my favorite pic of the day:

It appears that we haven’t yet gotten to the time where she says “Aw fuck!” when she sees snow. Like her mother does.

Oh. By the way. Anyone wanna join me on my upcoming hunting trip? Cuz that groundhog is GOING. DOWN.

Disclaimer: Today’s GTT post has the potential to be really REALLY offensive. Yeah, I know. What about my blog ISN’T really really offensive? Point taken. However, if you would rather not take the chance of being offended, you should click over to read about trolls. Cuz honestly. What’s offensive about trolls?

Hey! Did y’all hear? The Olympics are going on right now. No, not the games with the swimmers and the gymnasts. The OTHER games. The WINTER Olympics. Yeah, the games with the questionably masculine figure skaters and the red-headed snowboarding god that made me totally wanna have his babies last night. That is, if I even wanted to have any more babies. And since this baby factory is permanently CLOSED, I’m thinking the chance of me having his red-headed babies is… um… ZERO. But I bet he dies his hair anyway.

Anyhoo… Today’s Girl Talk Thursday question asks “What would you be an Olympic champion of?” Well, shit. That’s easy! I don’t even have to think about this one AT ALL. And it’s a totally new Olympic event, so the gold is gonna be all mine. ALL MINE. Wanna know what it is?

Blow Jobs

Bet you wish you had clicked on that link to go read about the trolls right about now, huh?

And now I bet you’re asking, “Is she SERIOUS?”

Well, if today were different, I might write this whole long thing about my prowess with oral sex and leave you really scratching your head wondering if I was dead dog serious or if accidentally overdosed on Nyquil last night and was still feeling the effects.

But today is what it is. So, I guess a better answer to the question is that I am an Olympic champion of survival. I’m trudging through this challenging course that is life. With my latest set of obstacles of staying in school, looming unemployment, and being a single parent. Again. And I’m surviving. I’m still here.

I’m not the only one out there doing it, though. We all do it. We all make it through each day, through all the trials and challenges that are set before us. Sometimes we miss and take a deduction. Sometimes we totally crash and burn, eliminating any chance for a medal on that round. And sometimes we TOTALLY FUCKING ROCK IT and get the gold.

And that’s all we can do.

I salute you all, fellow champions!

**********

So raise your hand if you were even the TINIEST bit curious about what I would have written if I had stuck with my 1st answer. Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Y’all are as sick as I am. Good for you.

I’m not really sure how it came about, but this morning I started thinking about nicknames I have had over the years. And I have actually had quite a few. Most of them came about during (or shortly after) high school, which could totally mean something. Maybe. Anyway, I thought I’d share some of them with you.

Happy Cat – A (guy) friend of mine started calling me this out of the blue one day. I found out he started it bcuz he thought I was happy. All. The. Time. And that was when the commercials for Happy Cat cat food were on the air. So, there you have it. I got named after cat food. And it stuck. My graduation mug has my name as HC Stacey. True story.

J.B.T. – Decisions. Decisions. Do I tell you what it stands for? Or not? I can start off by telling you a GUY gave me this one. You’ll totally understand in a minute. And one day he just started saying, “Hey J.B.T.!” But he refused to tell me what it meant. He wanted me to guess. I never could figure it out on my own, though. So a friend who had been let in on the ‘joke’ told me that the first part was a type of food. No help there dood. He then went on to tell me, “Jelly…Bean…”, and I tried to punch him. Which did me no good cuz he was on the wrestling team, and well, you know. Then I made the mistake of telling someone else about it (another guy) and he never let me forget it. But that’s ok, cuz his nickname was Hot Rocks due to a little Ben Gay ‘incident’ at band camp one year (I didn’t do it!), so payback’s a bitch.

Did you get it yet? Lemme help ya. Jelly Bean Tits. Yeah, high school guys are SO mature. *eyeroll*

Weenie – Tanya gave me this one. We met at band camp the summer before my senior year. (Are you sensing a trend yet? Ya should.) And I cannot for the life of me remember why she gave this to me. But she still calls me by it. Tanya? I’m getting old! Can you remind me? Again?

Phone Sex Girl – I JUST remembered this one as I was writing this post. No, it doesn’t mean what you THINK it means. Perverts. A friend decided that my voice was perfect for phone sex. When I was 18. But then he got called a ‘girl’ when a group of us got caught by the cops hanging out at Ladd’s Marina, so I totally think we’re even now.

Puddy Cat – The husband gave me this one. And I hated it. So it wasn’t just sent to the nickname cemetery. It was sent to the nickname crematorium, NEVER to be heard from again.

Utah Hostage – Tanya’s responsible for this one too, although it isn’t really a nickname, per se. But…I do actually know how this one came about. YAY ME! I’ve been in Utah for the past 7 years, but it was only supposed to be a temporary move. Thus the birth of the Utah Hostage. It IS a little anti-climactic, isn’t it? I know, you were thinking it would be something sexual, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU???

The funniest/most embarrassing nickname that I ever received, though, is really what this post is about.

I was a band geek in high school. I might have mentioned it. And I loved being in band. Our band was awesome. TOTALLY awesome. Hand on the Bible, right hand raised, “I solemly swear to…” awesome. No joke. Our band director was a little nazi-ish, but the ends totally justified the means. Sometimes. Sometimes it just caused us to let off a little steam.

Letting off steam often times involved practical jokes. We were notorious for them. Let’s put it this way, you were taking your life (and at times your face) in your own hands if you fell asleep on the bus to a band review. Especially the guys. I put pink lipstick on our teddy bear of a tuba player, who came after me when he found out that I did it. Another guy ended up with a complete makeover, including WATERPROOF mascara (not my doing I SWEAR!). Remember the Ben Gay incident I mentioned before? All I’m gonna say is: Ben Gay + underwear = Hot Rocks. Nuff said. Yeah, nothing was safe in our group. NOTHING.

One night, another band member talked me into writing on her boyfriend’s windshield with lipstick. Yeah…I know…twist my arm, right? While we were in the middle of it, we were caught by his friend (yet another band member) and ratted out. We couldn’t let him get away with that, so what did we do? Put soap in his trombone mouthpiece. I know! We were merciless! Unfortunately, we were ratted out AGAIN. WTH? Can’t we catch a break?

Now, mind you, I was not the mastermind for either of these pranks. I was just along for the ride. The fact that I was all, “Yeah! Let’s DO IT!” does not in any way imply MY guilt.

We had after-school marching band practice the next day. I headed to the locker room to get my flute. As I came out, I noticed some of the guys grouped around the piano, but didn’t think anything of it. I SO should have known something was up. I went over to the other side of the band room to get ready. I opened my flute case. It didn’t look right. There was something YELLOW in there. This can’t be MY case. And in a split second, it clicked. Someone put a condom on my flute!!!!! I immediately slammed the case shut and ran out of the band room, half laughing (cuz it really was fucking funny as hell!) and half crying. I don’t even remember if I took my case with me or not.  I know those assholes were still in the band room rolling on the floor laughing cuz they got me. And they did. They got me good.

I seriously considered going home. Right then. The after-school practices were required as part of the class grade, but I didn’t care. I was ready to just say, “Screw you guys. I’m going home.” (The guys from South Park totally stole this from me and I have yet to be paid for it. Assholes.) A friend came out, though, and calmed me down. I went back inside, got ready, and headed out to the field for practice.

But they weren’t through with me yet. Not by a long shot. Out on the field, I got the rest of it. I got my new nickname.

You ready for it?…..

Rubbermaid

No, I am NOT kidding.

And it stuck. Like duct tape stuck. For 3 MONTHS!

**********

So, now here is where I put it out there to you. What funny/weird/hated/embarrassing/awesome nicknames have you been given? Can you beat Rubbermaid? Can you come close? I desperately need someone to commiserate laugh with right now until I start drinking again and forget all about this.

Husband: Why is the TV screen all slobbery and gross?

Me: Umm…..I dunno. I can tell you what it WASN’T from. It was NOT from me making out with Tom Selleck last night.

Husband: Huh?

Me: Cuz that totally didn’t happen. It must have been the dog.

Husband: What dog? We don’t have a dog.

Me: WTF? What do you mean we don’t have a dog? How could you forget Fifi?

Husband: Fifi?

Me: Yes, Fifi! Our little cockapoo? The one that bit you on the leg last week?

Husband: YOU bit me on the leg last week.

Me: Nooooo. I was pulling Fifi OFF you. She was upset cuz you were ignoring her. I was trying to protect you. Your welcome.

Husband: We do NOT have a dog.

Me: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? It’s bad enough that you ignore her. Now you’re just being cruel.

Husband: *sigh*

Me: Shhhh! Magnum PI is coming on.

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure if any of that really happened. Except maybe the part about the TV screen being all slobbery and gross. Cuz I don’t need yet another restraining order.

What? You think Tom Selleck would make out with me in real life?

Yeah, me too.

Driving down Bangerter Highway, you will often see messages written in the fences that cross the highway.

In plastic cups. True story.

You will see anything from birthday messages to welcome home messages for missionaries. Even marriage proposals. They usually don’t last long. You might see the messages intact once as you drive by. The next time you pass by? The messages are most likely distorted, possibly even transformed into something totally different from the original message.

I took this picture on the way to work this morning. This message has been intact for I think 3 weeks now. I’m amazed at how much effort was put into it and at how respecful people have been to not destroy it. Of course now that I’ve said that…..well, you know.

Originally, I was gonna file this under gigglesnorts. But I really think it falls more under a WTF? Because, obviously.

Seriously?