oink

While I am coping fairly well with the layoff, or fUNemployment as I am calling it these days, my food consumption choices have been dismal. I refuse to step on the scale because my loose clothes aren't as loose and I quite frankly don't want to see the number. 

Last week I started returning to normal programming. No more going over to my parents' house to graze on all their bad foods. Keeping only healthy stuff in my house. No going out. Spending quality time at the gym. 

Of course, over the weekend, there was a bit of Chinese food in the picture. But a small slip is okay. 

Opted not to go to the gym last night as Nelson came over. We did take the dogs on a walk at least. 

I know my weight will come back into check once the uncertainty, limbo is gone. I just need to keep chipping away with exercise and relaxation. 

silence is anything but golden

i sent our darling southern gentleman an email on tuesday. i debated between a few different avenues of approach based on his currently deemed bergeresque post it note. options were as follows:

• * call him on the one liner, asking WTF?
• * pretend it never happened like an ostrich sticking its head in the ground
• * avoid holiday talk, in fact, what holiday?
• * rub it in that i am going on holiday
• * take the middle of the road

after fighting with my inner vengeful scorpio heart, i decided to walk the middle of the road. it was extremely difficult to not tell him that over the past eight years he has never once sent me an email like that. but i consciously selected a different option this time because obviously my scorpio-driven tactics have not worked so well in past relationships. holiday was discussed but not dwelt upon in detail.

his responses are always quite prompt. even when the southern gentleman is on the other side of the moon. never skips a beat. typically, i am the slacker who takes her sweet time in replying. you know, have to keep a boy on his toes!

but not this time. i am only hearing crickets on the email front.

and no snail mail either.

hopefully he is either on an airplane or dead as those are the only two avenues that receive special dispensation.

Falling Apart

I was having a nice day. Spent some time doing a little early afternoon wine tasting. Enjoyed a bit of chocolate and cheeses too.

Decided to walk 7 miles since the weather was conducive and I continue to feel like a stuffed PMS pig. Half way through my walk, I feel my hands are stiff. I look at my hands only to find they are completely and utter bloated - so bloated as to be about 4 times their normal size!

I think to myself - "Self, are we dehydrated that our paws are gigantic, stiff, and teetering between numb and pain?" Of course at this point I am only half way through my walk so as such, I must really put the gas on to complete my exercise and figure out WTF is going on with my fingers.

I completed my 7 mile loop in 1 hour, 40 minutes and made a call to try to figure out what is going on with my hands. Appears to google up as an allergic reaction. Only thing I had all day was the few samples at the tasting. Must have been something in cheese or the chocolate. I have never had an allergic reaction to anything before. And it sucks.

Here six hours later, the swelling has been reduced significant but the stiff, achy pain still continues. Hopefully everything will be back to normal by the morning. I really do not want to test out my new insurance.

I am falling apart! What is going on? First my blood pressure incident on Tuesday, then coming within millimeters of being a hood ornament on Thursday, and finally today's adventure. No wonder I am exhausted!

Double Standards

Double standards are everywhere.

It makes me sad that here we are in the 21st century but still these double standards remain in tact with what feels like a iron grip to me.

Montana Man may be a lot of things. But one good thing about the man is the fact that he is a good father. There is a double standard for mothers and fathers who share custody. I see it all the time with Montana Man. The Alec Baldwin voicemail debacle from earlier this year makes total sense after living through a lot the off-balance scale of justice.

I have had my own experience of seeing the double standard in action with my father and fictitious allegations. Same with my uncle. Anyone can fling accusations at will. It is not innocent until proven guilty any more. Guilt is implied regardless.

Then there is the double standard I am wrestling with. Because I dress nice and take care of myself that I somehow asked for ass grab 2007 to happen, I invited it. In fact, I did not; but there lies the double standard rub. That is a fact. However, I cannot do anything about what happened, other than protect myself from it occurring again.

Nope, no hr course of action. Why? I was 25 and fell pray to a man who propositioned me in a very lewd fashion at work and went to boast this proposition with a co-worker. Being a dewy eyed 25 year old, I told my manager and he was required to file it with HR. Nothing happened besides the offender got a talking to. I had to find a new assignment to save my own sanity. Honestly, I do not want a second harassment on MY record. Hence, I have to expect and stop anything like this from happening again myself. Myself.

Double standards. Yeah.

Upset = Missing 1 Day

I missed the last day of NaBloPoMo. In my flood of emotion after the great cop a feel incident of 2007, I forgot the last day of November is not indeed Thursday Nov 29, but in fact November really does have 30 days! Shite. I did so good too.

What a gyrl wants

So many times I hear “I want someone to grow old with.”

I simply want someone to be young with, to be vibrant with, and to live this life to its fullest with. I want to live in the now and share the present with someone. Not focus my relationship on having a spare in the back for the days when my hair has whitened and joints ache. What is the fun in that?

I want to experience life with a man who is not afraid to take a big bite. A man who will gleefully scramble to the top of Macchu Picchu and take out the trash ~ in both situations, it will not be a chore for him, merely part of life, our life together.

While I have traveled the world, have done well for myself, I do yearn to have someone to share it all with. However, how the sharing is done is another story, as I will not be any man’s sugar mama. I do not care how cute he is or how good he is in bed; I will not be in a relationship again where the money scales are tipping in my favor.

Where is he? I want to make the memories before the growing old is well on its way, before a hot, steamy night consist of he and I slathering each other in ben-gay. I want to have a colorful tapestry of memories with him, so we can fill in our decrepit swiss cheese memories when we are gray.

Time moves so quickly. I do not want to lose any more time than I already have. I want to be able to enjoy you, Mr. Mystery Meat, sooner rather than later. There are so many wonderful shared memories for us to create.

Yes

Remember the other day - oh maybe Wednesday - I was so thrilled, looking forward to being home and with the hound girls on Friday. Friday?! Well - that would be today, correct?



Yes, it is Friday. Guess where I am? Still in SxSWland. Gonna be here for another week. Yup, plans changed and since I am a tireless slave for The Man, I am still here. My babies are still in lock down. Mail will not be in my hot little hands.



Yes, the mail. Remember back to the other day when I discovered there would be non-bill, personal mail awaiting me? I have been on pins and needles to learn what is contained in "the letter". 768 air miles separate me from my mailbox. Torture! Pure! Unadulterated! TORTURE!

Yes, I am distraught. No patience. Wanting to move to the next level. Needing peace of mind. Knowledge. There are options. Overnight express delivery. Scanning and emailing. Waiting. The alternatives for getting "the letter" to be here with me all have some level of a flaw. Honestly, this is the very last thing that needs to be lost in the mail, literally and figuratively. Scanning - while giving me instant gratification, does not provide me (a) the privacy or (b) the joy of opening the envelope (and yes, silly as it sounds, opening the envelope itself is something I would prefer to do).

Yes, this whole situation sucks. But it is only temporary. I can try to suck it up for a week. Operative word here is try.

Have made some fun plans for the weekend. Need to have some excitement to stave off "the letter" torture I must endure.

Congrats on The Lemonheads' arrival, Helen!

Happy First Anniversary, ESC!

Oh I wish I were an Oscar Myer Weener...

I feel like I am such a whiner here.

Here in my little corner of wanderlust land.

I cried and whined about Montana Man. The good, the bad, the ugly, the crying, the heartbreak, the denial, the denial, the denial.

Harry Goldenblatt was a small bump in the road.

The Questionable Italian was an even more minuscule bump in the road.

Now The Southern Gentleman is on the scene. And I feel like I am in whiny mode again. Because I have no patience and want The Southern Gentleman. NoW!

I don't want to be whiny. But y'all get what is bubbling at the surface of my brain. And on my brain - straight up - is my future, my life and how that all relates to The Southern Gentleman.

However, Montana Man called this afternoon. Keep in mind that last Sunday night he pinged me with the following -

MM: Hey, you dont return phone calls. geee you must have a man
MM: LOL
WG: hola. I am a busy girl :)
MM: with who? lol
WG: Remember - I had company this weekend. My poor liver.
MM: the guy from alanta
WG: Yes, my pal from the South. We drank our way thru SxSW-land
MM: cool

And on Friday, this is what he said:

MM: i thought you left prom queen (inside joke)
WG: i am home - nibbling on dinner. trying to figure out my night
MM: lol so many places and mmmmm guys. lol. go girl. i am sooo proud of you. you really have made so many great steps in your life
WG: overall, i am not impressed with the men here
MM: so what you will find one. you have a lot of good friends there. sooooo that is most of it silly
WG: honestly the good friends is all that matters to me
MM: and you got some last weeekend sooo you are good for a while
WG: nope - he was a total gentleman
MM: you should have silly
WG: not with him
MM: lol. ok
WG: maybe one day but not now
MM: lol

Fast forward to today...

Montana Man tells me at the end of our phone call, "It was really good to catch up today." Because I could not resist, I inquire "What do you mean?" Montana Man responds "Because we hardly talk anymore. Not like we used to."

I did not go where I could have. I mean after all we did break up - you broke up with me - duh! And I laugh because he is trying to make me jealous that he is going out on dates. His mediocre date on Tuesday has since turned into something fun to do since then - why? - because I am not showing signs of jealousy. I think it is funny.

While I'd love to be able to discuss the Southern Gentleman with Montana Man for a true male point of view - I don't think we are there yet. As evidenced by the above messenger exchange, I honestly do not believe that Montana Man is ready to hear about the next phase in my life.

In other news, no Sunday phone call from The Southern Gentleman. I did not think he would call. But still, secretly in my heart of hearts, I was hoping he would.

Weekend Company - or I am too tired to come up with a decent title

The Southern Gentleman arrives on Friday afternoon. I so need to begin sketching out a high level weekend plan. For some crazy reason, I don't feel the need to have a full tour planned and ready. I think that is because that is not quite how The Southern Gentleman rolls... he is mellow and laid back and quite honestly I think he needs to have input on the schedule of events. I need to work on not being the one in control in a male-female dynamic - offering suggestions to pick from as opposed to a schedule.

Of course, the SuperFly Palm lady had a different opinion on my The Southern Gentleman is it theory. As is, per SuperFly Palm, I don't know who the Mystery Meat is. Which disappointed me. More on that later. But I will definitely capitalize on all opportunities. Because you see, free will is involved and I still have conscious choices to make regarding all of this brew-ha-ha. That I know for certain.

However, the problem lies in my mother's new and constant rant about the whole situation. A rant that over uses colloquialisms in excess. If I hear one more time "a bird in the hand," I am going to spoon my eyes out with a dull butter knife. The more she rants, the more I want to move to The South and be even further away from her.

I was quite distraught when SuperFly Palm point blank told me I was not moving any time soon. When I questioned her explicitly, she told me "why would you move, when the man is in The Republic, so the answer is no." Urgh! But I love love love it out here in SxSW land! This is home and the Mystery Meat is in The Republic - damn him! It may be the point where I say screw the Mystery Meat and go where I am truly happiest of all.

I am going to keep rolling with the punches here. Because that's all I can do and I will make sure I have a damn good time doing it.

Next dilemma, what to wear to pick up The Southern Gentleman from the airport???

Ready or Not; Ready

I am so ready for things to spark with The Southern Gentleman.

I am ready for a real relationship with possibilities.

I am ready for a man with his shit together.

I am ready for a man with responsibilities and who is not afraid of responsibilities.

I am ready to be cherished.

I am ready for real love.

I am done with games.

I am done with unnecessary drama.

I am ready for love. For true love.

Now.

And a little hott, hott sex wouldn't hurt the deal at all ;-)

I am a Private School Bus

Today was a big Monday at home. I had to get myself to Montana Man's home at 7 AM to be there to take the gyrlies to school; Montana Man had an 8 AM meeting. So I got up early, honestly barely sleeping due to fear of oversleeping.

I got to Montana's Man house on time. That was the end of the goodness. It all went downhill from there. Honestly. Because. Kids. Being. Late. To. School. Is. Something. That. I. Find. Hard. To. Deal. With.

I remember being late as a child and the unnecessary drama that ensued. So I guess I am hyper-sensitive to it all. Montana Man running late as it is. Then the gyrlies and I leave, sans car seats, because car seats are in daddy's car headed opposite direction. So being a responsible adult, I ensure the gyrlies are belted in and head toward school. Montana Man calls in a panic - he figured out the car seats are in his car. We all have to turn around to meet at his home to get the car seats.

All is well. Head toward school. Aha! An accident on an already congested road. Luckily, my ever-calling Montana Man decides to ring. I inform him of the emergency lights on the horizon to which I get a "there is always traffic on this road; it's no accident you crazy woman." Luckily the kids saw the emergency vehicles and served as my witnesses that the "crazy lady" was in deed correct - accident up ahead.

But at my "holy fuck the traffic is not moving. Danger Will Robinson, the girlies are going to be oh so late," Montana Man turned around because only custodial parents can take the children in late and heaven forbid I be on any list of "approved" drop-off/picker-uppers.

So I am waiting to get onto the toll road, and the phone rings with Montana Man's special ring. I pick up. "You are in the wrong lane." I control my language due to the under aged ears in the vehicle. "Well Montana Man, if you stop calling me, I will be able to concentrate on DRIVING."

Dial tone. Toll booth. Missed turn. Finally at the school. Montana Man leading the caravan.

The gyrlie-gyrls were five minutes late. Montana Man did not make his 8 AM meeting - not by a long shot. I felt bad, I felt that I had let him down, let the girls down, he was in a pissy mood. But he told me shit happens and if it weren't for forgetting the car seats, everything would have been okay. And I start to think from me as opposed to them. I got up this morning to do him and the gyrls a favor. These children and their father are no longer my responsibility. Montana Man is going to go out and find other women to fuck, to pursue a life with and I am not on that radar. Fuck it, I was doing him a favor and life is not perfect. Not my responsibility. He's lucky I am a softy and agreed to it on my time at home. I win some, I lose some - but so long as I retain perspective, I cannot fail.

Rants on Mexico

I am ready to fill y'all in on my little jaunt to Mexico. My traveling partner, Sparkles flew in the day before and we of course went out for cocktails. Here is where my fears came to the forefront - Sparkles inability to go home at a reasonable hour and inability to control her drinking. I had to play the adult since she wasn't going to and after enjoying Mexican Martinis, I had to work really hard for an hour to get her ass out of the bar. Ugh! Foreshadowing, foreshadowing...

Now I have made it perfectly clear to Sparkles what exactly my intentions were for this trip, namely doing nothing besides enjoying sitting/splashing at the beach and/or pool with the occasional cocktail to keep me cool while basking in the sun. No excursions, no waking up early, no nothing. Pretty clear, don't cha think.

Sparkles informs me that she plans to drag my ass parasailing, swimming with dolphins, and snorkeling. I begin to believe that Sparkles truly does not listen to a word I say because I have been making my trip intentions clear for months now. I say no, to which she responds "I figured you'd be afraid to parasail." Fuck that bitch, I am not afraid and if she paid half a lick of attention to anything I've ever told her, she'd know I am anything but afraid, which really torqued me. That was piss-off number one. Let's keep count, shall we?

Piss-off number two came in the form of determining the time to leave for the airport. She wanted to be there three hours before the flight. Yes, you read that correctly - three hours. She was insistent, which sent my blood pressure through the roof due to it being (a) unnecessary and (b) her level of insistence. She cited returning the rental car, checking luggage and security screening as taking days. This is a small airport, where everything soup-to-nuts takes maybe 20 minutes on a busy day and oh perish the thought that I fly out of said airport regularly so maybe I know a little something about this. I told her so and we left based on my timetable. Imagine my joy when everything happened exactly as I described and I reminded her of it. The plane was late, so we sat and waited and waited and waited.

The Mexican Customs and Immigrations forms seemed to baffle Sparkles. Rather than ask me, the girl who has flown a half million miles, entered and exited numerous countries, she insisted on asking one of the snotty gals from our group. Snotty gal assumed we were both as clueless as Sparkles, which made my blood boil. Snotty gal will learn of my various sojourns when the opportunity presents itself.

Food was also an issue. All Sparkles wanted to do was eat. I am not much of a recreational eater. I am hungry so I eat. Buffets do not mean pile the plate sky high. My buffet philosophy is that I'd rather keep a single layer of chow on my plate and make three trips than hoard feet of food all slopped together on one plate. Sparkles is a piler and had to make comments on my "scant" plate. The one that got to me is "You hardly eat anything. I would think you'd be thinner than you are." Blood pressure rose with that one. I bit my tongue because there was still another few days to go on this adventure. That was piss-off number four.

Clothing became an unnecessary drama. We are at the resort for virtually a ten minute trip. We are not going to meet our soul mates and if we do, they are our soul mates, so they don't care what we are wearing because it is gonna happen if it is meant to happen, right? No, Sparkles had to change at least seven times to determine her outfit. We went through this process at least twice a day. Who are we going to impress? The dorks we came with? With each fashion show, I came one step closer to gouging my eyeballs out with a dull grapefruit spoon.

Then I had to endure her tantrum because her little excursions were not what they seemed. We all know the drill in Mexico. You have your little representative who sells you all the activities, yada, yada, yada. Sparkles missed her parasail appointment. Swimming with dolphins was a misnomer as there was no "swimming" but briefly being in the water with them and a $10 photo op. Finished by her opting to take a taxi back to the hotel as opposed to riding the bus, which was a $15 ride as opposed the $1 bus - you can imagine the complaining about that alone. Bitched and bitched and bitched. You'd think the sushi at our all-inclusive could soothe things - oh no - she was bitching there was too much octopus and not enough tuna - WTF do you want for free? The sushi was fresh, I was delighted and I am a sushi snob.

Sparkles was also annoyed by the fact that my frig at home was sparse. I don't keep lots of food. Again, I am not a hoarder; I buy on demand. She was pissed I did not have regular coke in the frig. I do not drink regular coke... hello, anyone, calories??

Needless to say, I was ready for her to go home. I realized that she does not have enough real world responsibility in the adult world. The childish behavior and everything being all about her all the time has been getting tiring and this pushed me over the top. I need adult friends - not dull boring adult - but fun adults who get the real world.

Final count on piss-off items is 7. However, we need to make that final count 8. When speaking with her earlier this week, Sparkles complained that our little trip was very expensive. WTF?!?! Yeah, everyone I told about the trip price and what we got for it was amazed at the price. Of course if you count the $15 cab ride, $110 dolphin thing, countless frivolous purchases maybe so, but then again if you don't have a mortgage or any real bills, what does it matter?!?

hoping for empathy

i have been working my ass off... i only wish the pounds would be disappearing too. the every other week travel is kicking me around. then the obligations on the home front. trying to keep balance has not been easy.

i hope things on a personal front do not fall apart. a regular, rather aggressive traveling schedule is difficult for a person who has never done such travel himself to understand. until you have walked in my shoes, how can one understand?

i hardly heard from harry last week, which concerns me. i don't think he understands. and what he does believe from his experience is so not me - - he saw this before in the form of a workaholic, which i am so very not. there is a difference between a workaholic and doing what is expected of you. there is a line and i have not crossed to the workaholic side. just because i am surrounded by workaholics does not mean i am one. i don't enjoy the long hours and all that is entailed some days. a comment from harry last night got me feeling a need to clarify that.

wonder if i will see harry tonight. honestly i am not entirely sure right now... i know i have been a little standoffish since i got home on friday night. i have to work through that, probably need to acknowledge it... i have just been really tired...

more tomorrow...

Stampede

Wednesday night was my big night out this week. It was a slow week on the social front. But as is usual here, it is feast or famine; you see, next week I am booked Tues, Weds, and Thurs.

In my new be social and get out there mindset, I went to drag queen bingo with the group. I was so proud of myself for being there on time. woo hoo. Of course, I end up sitting down and get joined by an older man waiting for his blind date to arrive. I have switched cocktail of choice from vodka tonic to rum and diet coke - have to save calories somehow and I justify it with diet coke.

Drag queen bingo was a disappointment. This troupe was no where near as good as my hairdresser and his buddy who ran drag queen bingo at another nearby bar. However, there was a huge bright point - a Brit gal who moved here this spring and she brought a ton of Cadbury with her - heavenly curly wurlys to be specific - nirvana, heaven and much needed as I am in full press PMS mode. Needless to say, I am now craving UK Cadbury goodies. I feel an order will be placed next month.

After Drag Queen Bingo, I joined two other gals for ladies night at a country bar. I'd never been to this place but decided to go because what the hell. After Montana Man exposure, I have learned of this thing called country music. Expanding my horizons, plus the stock show is still in town so there was the added bonus of real cowboy encounters.

But this is my life. Do any hottie cowboys hit on me? Of course not. But who hits on me immediately - BORAT! Story of my existence - first to get hit on of the girls - but it is fucking Borat - swear - absolutely no lie - and Borat is all up in my personal space. I shot that down instantaneously. Get in my face and ignore the one foot personal space rule and you don't have a chance. Blatant rudeness is something I cannot tolerate.

Had fun getting to know a new gal pal - I am excited at the prospect of actually acquiring new friends. On the way home (approx. 1:30 AM), I decided to call up MM. No, I was not drunk dialing or drunk driving for that matter. When MM used to travel for work, he'd always call at 1, 2, 3 AM to talk after he'd been out boozing. Well, I decided it was time for a little pay back. Even though it was a short conversation, it felt empowering.

Of course, getting up a few short hours later wasn't so much fun but I survived.

Am I Too Late?

Yesterday evening I was straightening my hair. I am so in love with my new straightening iron - the type of love that is forbidden. As if to be able to straighten but maintain body and put a little curl on the ends to boot!

However, while enjoying the hair love that only the Wingo Onyx can provide, I noticed the gray hairs. on. my. head. It made me sick. Before it was the stray one or two - but now - there are more - many more. Alas, I am getting old.

There were the two nasty little motherfuckers who decided to grow right in front of my face - as if to make in roads to serve as a daily reminder. But there are more - on my crown - and a few of them were LONG! As to mock me and show me that they, the gray hairs are here and proud and have been secretly growing on my head without my knowledge. If it weren't for my highlights, I wonder how much worse the situation truly is!?!?

The motherfucker gray hairs are a reminder than even though I look pretty good - in fact am often told I look much younger than 32 - age really is advancing on me. My clock is ticking. Just yesterday I heard a radio commercial about becoming an egg donor - the maximum age is 32! Fuck!

The whole point is that my clock finally turned on. Is finally ticking. Which is scary. On a monumental scale. However, leave it to me to be a late bloomer - err, I mean late ticker.

Damn, why am I always late?

Noodling on MM

My emotions have been up and down a bit yesterday and today. A dash of confusion, sporadic heart pangs (all Montana Man related - of course), throw in a little PMS and we have a Gyrl who's a little more sensitive than usual.

I have been noodling on what to post all day. Noodled or not, I still am not able to concoct a cohesive idea. I know you are tired of hearing about Montana Man - quite frankly, I am tired of it too. Especially since I have never taken a break up so hard before. I don't feel as confused and heart sick as I did yesterday, which is positive. I talked poor Shell's ear off about it today - two hours worth - I love that gyrl!

It is Montana Man's mixed messages that throw me. I know this is the problem, why it is difficult for me. He says "we are friends", then he says "I love you", then he kisses me, and then he goes back to the beginning - wash, rinse, repeat. This is a flow chart!

This afternoon, I needed to talk with Montana Man before calling back the auto broker. I called and MM answered the phone - the weirdness is how he answered the phone - as if to be chipper and happy it was me on the line. He had to call me back due to an incoming work call he was receiving. MM actually did call me back and we talked. He sounded in good spirits. We chatted. Men!

Well. What's next. Gotta keep on moving onward and upward. That's for sure.

I am so tired of all this fucking snow! Today we got a little more snow but it was the bitter below zero coldness that did me in. I need good weather again so I can go out and socialize!! Please send the sun back to Denver - please!

Boundaries or the Gobble Day Disaster

In an attempt to spend a pleasant Turkey Day as the boycott is in full effect, I went to a Friend's. One who I thought was a good friend and she knows the ups and downs of that which is referred to as the boycott. In fact, she often refers to us as best friends. Note key word: thought.

I pull up in the Benz and the other male guest run out the door to check out the fine German machinery before the key is out of the ignition. Dinner was uneventful - pleasant enough. After dinner, we all get up from the table. Friend and her husband are clearing the table. I, being a good guest, begin to pick up dishes so Friend does not have to leave the dishwasher she is loading. Nice, right? Wrong in Friend's world. I get my ass handed to me for placing two dishes on the counter top beside her. To quote "What are you doing putting those dirty dishes on my clean counter top!" Note: counter top was not clean. "Of all people, I would have never thought you'd do this to me." To which, she picked up the two dishes like a wild woman and brought them back to the kitchen table. Creating quite a scene all the while.

Let's summarize with one word - Ridiculous. No. Two words - Ridiculous and Rude.

I drank a glass of wine while contemplating how to handle this. Normally, I'd have stayed and glossed over it. But it got me damn mad because it was so unnecessary - two fucking dirty dishes. I knew she had control issues but F.U.C.K.

She'd been on shaky ground with me because of the Benz and the nasty jealous digs she'd make about it. Next nasty remark, she was going to hear that I couldn't be her pal if she kept her hard-on about the damn car. Also, she relished a little too much pleasure that things with MM and I were kaput. She was too upset and made sure she announced to everyone whenever we were together that I screw up her poker game when I play with them because I win instead of her. Poor loser.

So after contemplating, I grabbed my salad bowl, unused fondue pot, and my purse and walked right out the front door and kept on going until the engine was purring and I was on my way home.

Normally, I'd have been concerned about what the rest of the guests thought; but I said fuck it - I'll never see them again and quite frankly I really don't give a flying fuck. I won't tolerate that petty behaviour from my family, so why the fuck am I going to let a stranger get way with that unnecessary shit.

The boundary had been set with the Benz comment and it transferred to the unnecessary bullshit of two plates and being a decent human being. I had set the boundary and she crossed it. I won't talk to her anymore. I don't care because I don't need people like that in my life. I left quietly because she hates, no despises non-confrontation, which leaves me feeling warm and happy inside.

I am proud of myself because I set the boundary and enforced it. Woo hoo!! Growth, progress, and score one for the gyrl!