And the gold medal for Olympic bitching goes to....

Getting frustrated and bitching about stuff is not new to me. When somebody doesn’t use proper English, either spoken or written, it makes my head explode. When some douchebag drives down I-5 going 65 in the fast lane I could easily punch them in the face. However these are rather minor things in life and the frustration soon fades away at least until I encounter the next dumbass in my journey through life. What I can’t understand are the people who take frustration and bitching to the level of Olympic sport. These are the people whether by happenstance or choice are ALWAYS pissed off and complaining. The line at McDonald’s moved to slow, the plumber screwed them over, their new phone is defective, their neighbor’s dog barks constantly, it’s raining, it’s too cold, it’s too hot and the granddaddy of them all….the Navy is specifically targeting them to make their life a living hell. What exactly does that constant complaining solve? All I can tell is that it makes the people around them want to duct tape them to a tree and shoot them with a paintball gun. Repeatedly.



No person is perfect and no life is perfect. The constant challenge in this journey is to take the adversity we come across and deal with it in a way that doesn’t cause up to grab a rifle and start mowing people down at the local grocery store. There are three basic rules in life. 1. Life is not fair. Never was and never will be. 2. Knowing and accepting rule #1 can go a long way in having a wonderful and fulfilling life. 3. A sense of humor and whimsy go one hell of a long way in making life fabulous. I pretty much let rule #3 run my life. I believe there is little in life that you can’t make entertaining in some fashion. That way might be kind of bizarre to some people but hey, you have to do what you have to do. Did you know that some people think I am clinically insane because I carry Edward everywhere? Let me tell you right now, that is NOT the reason I am clinically insane. I am just having fun with the life I have right now since this life can be filled with uncertainty at times.


One of the greatest lessons I ever learned was in 1995 when I took the Basic Ombudsman Class. I was told that the best way to live in the Navy was to live by the Semper Gumby rule. Always be flexible. Life in the Navy isn’t always fair or even reasonably sane but if you can be flexible it can be extremely rewarding. It took some years to really understand that but now; as I’ve gotten older I truly live by that motto. Shit just happens. No need to be paranoid about it or go batshit insane. Better to just go with the flow and save yourself a lot of pain and aggravation in situations that are completely out of your control. What you can always control is your reaction to the various shitty things life throws you. I wasn’t overjoyed that the job Eric took was in Virginia but instead of bitching about it I accepted reality. Reality was that he needed to get there in a short amount of time and the rest of us just weren’t going to be able to go. In addition, this is the man that I love more than life itself and he happens to love his job. What I needed to do was to deal with it in a way that was good for him, me, and the kids. I have dealt with it pretty well but now I realize that I’m not particularly enamored of the fact that my husband will probably spend the rest of his career on the East Coast while I am here on the West Coast. I could whine about the fact that the Navy doesn’t have a job for him here. I could ask him to give up a job he loves to make my life easier. I could moan and wail about how horrible my life is to anybody that will listen or look at my status on Facebook. What I am going to do is look into what options I have to get to the East Coast. I know I won’t like all of them and I know this is not going to be fun or remotely easy but what in life is? (Unless you are talking about drinking with your girlfriends, that’s always fun and easy.) I may bitch about it in passing or feel frustrated that the housing market sucks to sell a house right now but I refuse to let it consume me. I just can’t understand the people who expend so much energy complaining. If they could just put half of that energy into changing the way they are looking at life then they would be so much better off. Life is finite and I’m not going to waste any of it. I figured out a long time ago that the only way to get the life you want it to grab it for yourself. To focus on what makes us happy and fulfilled instead of always being Debbie Downer. I saw a shirt recently that said “If life gives you lemons, demand salt and tequila”. That pretty much sums up my philosophy.

What to do when your friend's friends think you are a bad example

I really like Facebook. Being a military family, it has really helped me keep in touch with friends that have transferred or retired. It also helps me keep in touch with family that I don't particularly want to live by but don't mind hearing from on a computer with 1500 miles between us. Since I tend to be a little, oh what's the word, opinionated, maybe even non-politically correct (although I like the old-fashioned forthright), I don't have a ton of friends. I don't think it is really a test to see how many people will accept a friend request when they probably just clicked the wrong button and now can't undo it. I pretty much keep my friend list to people that will understand my crazy posts or need to use the word fuck occasionally. The only person I have on my list that has a hard time with this is my Mom and she calls me to yell at me every time I swear. Thank god for caller ID.

My problem is that I forget that some of my friends have LOTS of other friends. LOTS and LOTS of friends who don't necessarily share my views, opinions, logic or beliefs. When I comment on something they write I forget that I am not having a conversation with just them; I am having a conversation with all 2,491 of their friends. And guess what? Some of them don't like me. Shocking isn't it? They don't understand my humor or sarcasm or need to vent on a particular issue.

I recently got in "trouble" for this. I posted a comment that was really quite snarky on a post by a good friend. I didn't even think twice about it. Little did I know that I had contributed to a war of who is the best Navy wife ever. I certainly didn't mean for my friend to be sucked into the middle of this. She is a good, kind, decent woman. Unfortunately some of her friends can't take a joke and it escalated to the point that I wanted to smack the living shit out of a bunch of self-righteous bitches who really need to STFU. Sorry, that is just my opinion. I'm still trying to balance out that whole role model, good example thing with the very essence of my soul.

My question is really this: Is Facebook really worth it? If I can't be myself should I even bother with it? Why can't people have differences of opinion without somebody whining and crying that people are being mean? I don't have the answers for this yet. People have told me I just need to be more careful and think before I comment on something. Yes, I could do that, but am I being true to myself then? Why don't I just post all hearts and flowers and blow sunshine up people's asses. That is just not me. I am snarky and sarcastic and funny and a tad bitchy. So for now I guess I'll be a little cautious and see how it goes. The worst that can happen is that somebody messages Eric and tattles on me I guess.

Why are people so nosy?

The past six months have been incredibly difficult for me. I had a major depressive episode and decided to hospitalize myself before anything worse happened. I know people are used to me engaging in certain ways but I never thought that it was overtly noticeable outside a tight group of friends. Well I have found that there are people I know that just must know every single detail. I had thought about keeping my treatment to myself. It really is nobody's business but mine in the first place. Then I thought that I was maybe doing a disservice to people who need education about solutions other than drugs for depressive episodes. I go three times a week, for a total of 12 - 15 times for electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) at Swedish hospital. I am given a powerful muscle relaxant by IV and then a small amount of electricity is applied to my brain to cause a seizure. The whole thing takes less than an hour. I have residual headaches and some memory loss as a consequence. I truly can say that I have not felt better in years and years. Doctors are not sure why this therapy works and I imagine it may not for everybody. All I can say is that it has made an incredible difference to my quality of life. I will not be ashamed for undergoing this therapy. ECT needs to be taken out of the closet as an alternative therapy. This has literally saved my life. It was just a matter of time before I had a successful suicide attempt. I am half way through the treatment program and my life is like brand new to me. I now know some real happiness in my life. This has brought Eric and I even closer as he helps to take care of me. For anybody out there who has a loved one that is not responding well to medication I urge you to look into this. I'm ignoring the nosy people for now; let them talk and make their judgements. They don't mean a whole lot to me in the long run.

The final nail in the coffin

I have to apologize for not writing lately. When your husband comes homes after being gone for months you normally want to do other things besides write including but not limited to having sex, having him mow the lawn, have sex, have him take care care of the tree that fell during a storm, have sex, have him fix your headlight, and have sex. These chores needed to be attended to in a timely manner. Man, I'm surprised I didn't end up at the doctor with a UTI. I was mainlining cranberry juice there at the end of his leave period to be on the safe side.

The one thing that has consistently surprised me during this whole deployment is how I've connected with other women and become more domestic. I am cooking and cleaning; being a good little wife and mother. It is so creepy and scary that I almost looked in the phone book to see if there was a listing for Father Murphy. I could just give him a call and he could perform an exorcism on me. Picture the scene--I'm writhing on the bed with is made up in a beautiful sage duvet cover, projectile vomiting cake batter, and instead of the Devil spewing Latin invectives you would hear Martha Stewart's voice explaining how to make a delectable sweet potato pie for Thanksgiving. I might even be able to sell tickets.

Now I was already concerned about this mutability in my personality-kind of like a football player who starts to play soccer-it's just not right. Then the other shoe dropped. I started going to sleep at 9:30 -10:00 EVERY night. Every damn night. And...wait for it....because this is why I know I have officially turned into my mother or some other old person......and I am really scared.....I AM WAKING UP EVERY MORNING AT 5:30 AM. What am I, a farmer now? I don't have any fucking cows to milk or rows to hoe!! So I end up making coffee and cleaning out the dishwasher. All Stepford wife things. Coffee is supposed to be made for me damnit; not the other way around. Eric always got up and made me coffee. Now I wake up before him. This may be a sign of the Apocalype. I know a lot of you believe in that even though I don't. It may be time to wear my tinfoil hat-oh wait that was for aliens not rampaging angels. I wonder what kind of hats we wear for them? I will do some investigating. I have plenty of time at the butt crack of dawn.

Losing an old friend

I lost an old friend yesterday. The Starbucks that I have patronized for 7 years was closed in a round of consolidations on Howard Schulz's part. I don't think he realizes how it made me and lots of others who faithfully went there feel.

I am a Starbucks addict. I would drive 10 miles out of my way to go to a Starbucks instead of anywhere else. When I heard that they were closing I immediately do what I do best: I got mad. I wrote and called Starbucks. I wanted to picket but they wouldn't let me. I wanted to start a petition drive to keep it open but was told it would do no good. Maybe it wouldn't have but it would have shown corporate Starbucks in Seattle that there are a lot of little people in little towns who love the people and the product and they should just leave us alone. As a business person I can completely understand why Howard is doing this. They built a big, fancy drive through Starbucks not far away that does a much larger business. They are also building a new one farther down on I-5 that I will just as easily be able to access that will be open in November. That is not the point.

This was a tiny Starbucks that didn't have all the room for the merchandise and huge seating areas. This was a cozy, intimate place where after 7 years I knew everybody that worked there. They knew my car and if they saw me drive up would have my coffee ready. They went through some rough times with me and I them. I heard about school, lovers, parents, and grandparents passing. They heard about Colin getting diagnosed and those trials, Taylor moving into her teens, and the joys and pains of life in the Navy. Most importantly they were a smiling, stable part of my day during the times when I was quite sure I was losing my mind and unsure if I would ever get it back. I spent part of my afternoon there yesterday. I snitched a momento or two. I made sure that they realized how much they meant to me. Then I went home to figure out how I'm not going to instinctually drive there every day.

Where do I apply?

I was flipping through the pay-per-view channels on DirecTV when I saw that they are now offering porn for my viewing pleasure. Not just any porn mind you, but such treats as "Cherry Butt Blossoms" and "Busty Backdoor Beauties". I decided right then and there I need to quit my job and become the person who comes up with the titles to porn movies. Have you seen some of these titles? Pink-The Other White Meat, Amateur Sex Kittens: Muff Munch, and Tapping Fresh Tail. I could do this. We could have some military ones like Naughty Navy Mamas or Haze Gray-I've got your meat. For us older gals Amateur Pole Dancers: Muffin Top Munch or Sagging Jugs. My personal favorite is Big Black Ding Dongs and Lick it and Stick it up YOUR Ass.

Do you think I need to finish my English major for this job? Is some guy sitting at a computer with a dictionary thinking "Gee, how can I put wet, kinky sluts together in an alliterative sense that will really appeal to my 18-99 male demographic so they will watch this"? Why aren't they all called Naked Chicks Fucking Each Other and Naked Chicks Fucking an Ugly Guy? There really only needs to be 2 movies. Of course that would put the billion dollar a year porn industry out of business. Don't get me wrong. I love porn. I find it fascinating that the most accurate indicator of a recession in the United States is if the porn industry experiences a significant drop in sales. I wish porn could get a little more creative. How come you never see porn musicals? I'd watch "Grease" as a porn, think of the possibilities. How about "My Fair Cock" or "Pussy on the Roof". Great musicals, great porn!! For you dramatists out there, there's "Phantom of the Boobies" or "The Dick King".

The list is endless. Let's have some fun. Come up with your own and share it with me in the comments.

Instant "Car"ma is gonna get you

I don't believe in vampires, spirits, demons, heaven or hell. I don't believe in past lives or reincarnation. (Although if it exists I want to come back as a house cat). I don't believe in anything supernatural. I tend to believe in things I can see, taste, touch and smell. I believe possiblities exist but until things that can be proven scientifically they are just fun stories and myths to pass the time. However I have always believed in the idea of karma. I believe in the cosmic balance of good and bad. Yesterday got me on the road to believing in past lives and the whole concept of working off bad karma. Many of you know that last month I rear-ended a guy and did $4000 worth of damage to my car. Well last night I hit a deer in the butt. Bitch ran right out in front of me like a toddler chasing a ball. I didn't hurt the deer. It was a doe and she may actually have liked it if she swings that way. She ran away after I hit her but I couldn't exactly follow her in the woods. After I ran the couple errands I had I called Eric and he said the deer should be fine and no, I don't have to report a deer butt hit and run. I didn't check if there was any damage because I wasn't going that fast and the deer was pretty small. Then I looked this morning. OMG!!! Who did I piss off in a previous life?



Can you see the deer butt hair? What you can't see is the fact that my headlights are pushed back and that the housing is cracked. Damn deer. I hope it gets shot. Oh, don't get all PETA on me. The stupid thing had some suicide wish anyhow, jumping in front of my car. So I think I'm going to see a psychic and see what I should do about this. Maybe I need to cover all of my bases. Do a couple of Hail Mary's, make a trip to Mecca, speak in tongues, handle poisonous snakes, go to the Wailing Wall, become some guys 8th wife, wear magic underwear, chant, work a spell, meditate. I think that about covers it. At least I don't have to work for the rest of the week. This may take awhile. Let me know if you have any other suggestions. I could use them. Next time it could be an elk. We had two in the field last week and they were eyeing up my car.