Thursday, June 2, 2011

Balls Out

I'm a wee bit excited and enthusiastic today Kittens, so I hope you all wore your big girl panties today and had a stiff  [drink or whatever] for breakfast! I'm on a no regrets kick. The Girl is about to launch into the world and go to college and start her first job (bet she won't dig that reality check). She is officially out of the nest and now I get to go be me. Just wrap your head around that! Eighteen years of essentially being The Girl's everything: Mom, cook, maid, tutor, hugger, nurse, back up, fashion consultant, friend, body guard, etc. Now I can whip out Real Cat. I no longer have to worry about dropping an F bomb at the parent booster club meetings (when this happens it is hilarious but the ugly bitch looks are not- especially when you can't punch them in the head). I don't have to pretend to like them anymore either. I can wear hooker heels every day if I want. I can tattoo my arm if I want. Because judgement days are over. So are the days of trying to stuff me into a predetermined Appropriate Mom Box. This Honey Badger just shredded the box and will be guided by my new motto. Balls Out. Always.

If I think it- i'm going to say it. Now this may be a shocker to some of you- but I DO hold back sometimes. No more. There will be no sugar coating, no warm and fuzzy blankets, no bless your hearts. I will be calling it how I see it. I won't try to intentionally hurt feelers but if you act like an ass, an epic bitch or try to be snobbish- there will be a cuss word hail storm pounding down on your head. If you try to change me or politely ask me to be less harsh, I will let you know how I feel about that. Loudly. There will be no political correctness. I am so for debating anything- but I hate it when people will just not say what they mean. Someone suggested to me that when I type mother fucker, that I should make it look like this: m*%^er f*#ker. So it's less harsh and more cute. Know what, it's supposed to be harsh- I mean it that way most times and sometimes as a battle cry. It's not cute nor am I cute-sy. So no- if I see fit to bust out a mother fucker it's going to be the real deal. Plus it's fun to read. Balls out.

I have been pretty militant on house keeping until lately. The closer The Girl was to graduation the less I cared. And you know what? It's been awesome. I suddenly have time for me! What a fucking aha moment that was. I have time for all of my pretty stuff, to watch a TV show but mostly I have had time to rekindle old friendships and enjoy happy hour without having to worry about what time I would be home or who would feed what to the people that live there. Just the other day, I stopped and bought two magazines and then went to lunch. I sat there enjoying my trashy gossip magazines and my sammich. In sweet sweet silence. Oh freedom is way better than wine and sex. Ok, well maybe equal to W&S. No one died from the kitchen not being spotless, the laundry left in the dryer or the refrigerator not being fully stocked. Wish I would of known that like ten years ago. But then I would probably be a lazy alcoholic right now. In pretty shoes. Hmmm not sure where the down side is there.

I have always wanted to be a little Rockabilly/Pin Up Girl hottie. Betty Page hairstyle, 1950's dresses and tattoos, etc.  Sadly, that outfit is not in the Appropriate Mom Box so I have tried to be conservative with an edge. Most of the douche bags that run the school systems hate themselves, hate the kids and definitely hate any parent that shows up to set their lazy asses straight ( I have had to do that like a bazillion times). They are more scared by Straight Republican Mom than they ever will be of Libertarian Edgy Mom- so that is who I have been. I have made sure to have an office job to support The Kid and her endeavors and to have straight hours. I have received many gasps and judgmental looks from the couple of tattoos that I have or that maybe my sweater hugged the boobies a little tightly ( personally, I think that is what sweaters are for) or I did not fully comply with the office zombie dress code. Which is fine- but when you can't tell the mean bitches to back up or else- well that's torture. Those costumes are officially retired since I am now going to be my own boss and the school board can now officially fuck off. Bye bye boring. Hello fabulous WTF! First up, I would like a quarter arm tattoo sleeve. Carrie, please start sketching.

I now officially have one speed, and that speed is Honey Badger. If I want a margarita with a girl friend in the middle of the day- I will have it. If I want to lay around in bed all morning with Mr. Man- done. If I want to write for a living and run my own business- and that means I have a tiny little budget when all of the fun money runs out- well I will own that, too. I know that won't be forever. Because I don't have forever- I have like maybe 30 solid  fabulous if you don't like me you can go suck a tiny ugly prick years left. Balls out everyone- go live like you mean it!

Mother fucker!


  1. Psssshhhh.... My oldest is 7 and I have 12 tattoos, and he has even watched me get ANd I wore hooker heels today!

  2. Oh Heather- I wish you were here. You may be my long lost twin. I thought I was all bad ass with 4 tats.

  3. ANd I have .... ummm.... 1, 2, 3, 4.... 4? piercings? And my ears are And when Dylan entered kindergarten last year, I had