Okay, what I really wanted to say is “HOLY SHIT!” but BlogHerAds limits you from using profanity in the title of a blog post. And you know what? I totally respect that – but a big HOLY SHIT anyways.
Today I got an email from a person down in the Los Angeles area who thinks I am kinda funny and emailed me about participating in a blogger panel. (I would talk about it more, but I don’t want to jinx it.) Honestly, irregardless if it goes anywhere I feel sublimely grateful for the compliment. I’ve spent a whole lifetime being someone who is grossly self-defeating, so to accept a compliment is an unbelievably big step in my personal journey. Hopefully, you’ll hear more about this opportunity in the future and if you don’t, please send bottles of Makers Mark my way. Of course, you always have the option of sending over a bottle of MM anytime – no reason necessary.
I have a stack of essays to read as a judge for a middle school essay contest, so tonight I’ll leave you with this new song tormenting me (sent by Jen). It will burn your ears, make you want to do a shot of tequila and then bend over and say 10 Hail Mary’s:
Over the past couple of weeks I have gotten back in touch with two friends (Hi Melissa! Hi Andrea!) that I haven’t talked to in years. I have Facebook to thank for these serendipitous reunions and I can’t help but to think that their entrance back into my life is a manifestation of the positive life changes that I am making. It’s amazing how happiness reveals itself when you surrender to the possibilities. So woo-woo sounding, I know.
In conjunction to these great events I’ve also met a ton of new people through the internets and blogosphere, some who I have met and some who I have not metyet. It is so great to make connections with other mothers, writers, tech enthusiasts, crazy folks and just a huge crosscut of people from all over the world. And all through this little 15.4 inch laptop screen with a DSL connection. Amazing. (more…)
From time to time one must rely on friends for support, advice, shoulder to cry on or some one to call bullshit on you ass. The other day, when I was trying to get enough guts to quit a job that was sucking the life out of me I turned to “The Coven.”
“Give me strength.” I said.
“You don’t owe them anything!” They called back.
It was a Steel Magnolias moment. Except none of us are southern white women. And we don’t hang out in a beauty shop. In fact maybe it’s not like Steel Magnolias at all, but you kinda get the point. I gave my notice of resignation that same morning.
The Coven is a group of women who are no holds barred when it comes to telling you like it is. They beat the truth into you, even when you don’t want to hear it. My coven is made up of three women – AB (that’s me), BB (that’s Cathy) and CB (that’s Teresa).
AB stands for ‘asian bitch’ not ‘alcoholic beverage’ or half the name of a Swedish pop group. I like to think I bring a lot to the Coven, but really I’m more like the yippy Jack Russell terrier to their pitbull (with lipstick!) cool. I basically play tag along with BB and CB in order to get some street cred. If you ask them, my initials should really be “SS” for Suzy Sunshine (their REAL nickname for me) because I am generally optimistic and hopeful despite that fact that it usually takes me two or three or six go arounds to get things right. I think they keep me around for shits and giggles. Or to say stuff like, “I remember when I was that age…”
BB stands for ‘black bitch’ because someone she once fired called her that. Knowing her, she probably said something like, “I may be a black bitch, but I’m a black bitch who still has a job” in return. I openly love that about her. BB doesn’t wear hats to church on Sundays, drinks beer out of a bottle and generally only coordinates her three daughters’ outfits during the holidays. Since I am not a black woman from Shreveport, Louisiana, I don’t fully understand the weight of how scandalous these indiscretions are. But I’ve met her mother, who basically introduced herself not as Allie, but as “Ms. BB” and I almost peed my pants right on the spot.
CC stands for “caucasian bitch” but really, that’s a misnomer. AB, BB and CB just sounds a little fancier together. CC is actually Italian – Sicilian specifically, and she could kick your ass. No really, she could kick your ass and the kids you haven’t had yet would come out of the womb with bruises. CC has a green motorcycle which she either calls Lola or Flo, wears her hair short and is the perfect juxtaposition of sweetness and toughness. My daughter thinks she is cool because she rides (or is it rolls?) around in a black convertible SAAB and has perfumed soaps in her bathroom. BB’s kids thinks she cool because she’s stylish and has cool hair. BB and I think she’s cool because she doesn’t have kids who live at home.
So The Coven acts as a bullshit-o-meter, where majority opinion rules. For instance, when BB got a high-falutin’ corporate job she started dropping hints that she was going to get a vanity car. The coven reacted somewhere along the lines of, “Hold the phone, you’ve got three kids and mortgage. Do you really want cheerios all over that fancy car?” Or when my general practitioner tried to diagnose me with adult ADD, The Coven sat me down and said flat out, “If you have ADD, then we’re retarded.” These two women are indispensable to me and when I feel so lost that I can’t make a decision, I have them help me. This happens a lot. They never laugh at me when I go against their advice and are always waiting in the wings to catch me.
And oh yes, I would be remiss not to mention QB.
QB a.k.a “Queen Bee” is our dear friend Coop. Technically QB cannot be part of the coven because he does not have a vajay-jay. QB is like the Fourth of July, Rosh Hashanah and Boxing Day all rolled into one big hot mess tied up in a pink silk bow. QB has a dizzying intellect which enables him to catalog in his brain: all the movies he’s ever watched, all the books and magazines that he’s read in his lifetime and all the bad reality television that ever existed (D-Listed?!?). He is more hip than a Harajuku girl, but still maintains the sensibilities of Bea Arthur. And while BB and CB may dance around the topic, QB will tell us flat out things like, “You need to get laid” or “The fabric on your jacket looks like the upolstery on my Aunt’s couch.”
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, BlueHost, Freshbooks and OpenSky may take you a purchase page of a company where I am a member of an affiliate program. As a result, I will often get a small percentage of the revenue or a commission off of something you have purchased. I am not otherwise paid to link to these sites, nor do I link to any products that I don't actually use or covet in real life. On the rare occasion I accept payment to review a product, it will be duly noted in its associated post.
