Why didn't this shit ever happen when I was single?

The other night, I got the coolest voicemail EVER.

And I'll tell ya, I know a lot about cool voicemails. I leave them all the time. At least, I used to before I stopped using the phone for anything other than ordering food...

I checked my missed calls list and saw a random number. Thinking it was probably just an old friend who I'd deleted, I listened to the message. I should have saved it so I could quote it word for word, but I wasn't thinking that far ahead.

"I just called to tell you that I totally called the wrong number, but you sound really hot and I'd like to get to know you better."

Dana can confirm that one for you. I have a voice designed for phone sex hotlines, apparently.

He went on for a couple more minutes about how hot I sounded, and that I should get a hold of him. The more he talked, the more drunk he sounded.

But damn if my ego didn't grow two sizes that day...

It's just nice to be reminded by someone other than the guy who is legally required to tell me I'm hot on a regular basis that I am, in fact, hot. And hearing it from the boys at work doesn't count-- they're all pretty fucking desperate.

And then? Tonight? Like half an hour ago?

I got a random IM from one of my exes. Most of you were around for my Caterpillar blogs, and I introduced him there. I usually refer to him as "the bad one." That kid was the biggest waste of my fucking life for damn near 3 years, but I was completely unable to pull myself away from him. Then I finally realized that he sucked just as much as everyone said he did, and I finally got the balls to be done with him.

Me? Needing to get some balls? Unheard of!

I swear, it happened. There was a point when I didn't have balls. It was a sad, terrible time, and one day there will probably be History Channel documentaries about it.

So anyway. He tried to talk to me a couple months after we broke up, and I blew him off. It's been 4 years since that conversation, and then he IMs me out of the blue tonight. He just wanted to "see how things were going."

Yeah, right. I told him that I just got married, and that I may very well be in NC in a few months. Take that, asshole. I'd like to say that I took the high road and hoped the best for him, but you've all met me before. I hope he's sitting there at his computer screen in a daze, berating himself for every detrimental thing he ever said to me, for every time he ever made me feel like shit. I hope he cries himself to sleep and wakes up knowing that no matter what, he'll never amount to anything more than a lonely, pathetic asshole who no girl in her right mind could EVER care about.

Was that too harsh?

It kinda feels good to be "the one who got away..."

And I'm so glad I'm married to Brad and not that asshole.

I was on a journey...

I made a late night run to Walmart. As usual. That place just sucks during normal people hours. Not that it doesn't suck all the time, but normal people hours are the worst.

(FYI: Normal people hours= any time before midnight, usually.)

I understood why there are people out there who always carry a camera.

First, I saw a sign outside a salon. It said, and I quote (halfassedly): "Tired of summer frizz? Brazilian Blowout!"

Really? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't a Brazilian something for your lady parts? I've never noticed mine to get more frizzy in the summer... And I gotta say, that isn't the best advertising strategy for frizzy hair OR waxes.

Then, I saw new diapers at Walmart. No, I was not diaper shopping myself. They just happened to be next to the shoes. I am not, nor do I plan to be in the near future, knocked up.

On with my point.

These diapers? They were made to look like jeans. For those poor folk out there who can't afford to dress their kids. Or are just too damn lazy to do it. Was this invention really necessary? Or is Huggies just hard up for sales? Jeez.

Then I saw a guy I used to work with. I noticed that he disappeared one day, but I didn't know his name so I couldn't ask about him. I figure, once you get past the first conversation without getting introductions out of the way, it's too late to ask. You just have to wait and hope that you hear someone say their name. I suppose you could ask them how to spell it, but you kinda blow your cover if they say "B-O-B" or something equally simple. So, I had an entire let's-catch-up conversation with a guy whom I talked to on a daily basis for a year and I still don't know his name.

And that was my excitement for the evening. Woot.

As a side note, Haley Joel Osment was much cooler before he hit puberty.

Seriously, people?

I could've sworn something happened today that was blog-worthy... but no, it didn't. Just more work. Can I just mention that I never want to see another clipper EVER again? I swear, at least 99 times a day I consider hanging myself with a clipper cord. Not that I wish annihilation on the company I work for, but couldn't we just run short on parts for 1 week? Preferably the week before Memorial Day so I don't get in trouble for taking that Friday and Saturday off? Please?

Ok, enough about that.

So, I have a question. It's mostly for the boys, although I know none of them will give me a serious answer. See, the hubby is constantly afraid that I'm going to leave him. I know my "get the fuck away from me" attitude that I have a lot of the time doesn't help that, but jeez. I was like that before we got married. As I've explained a million times, it's nothing against him. It's the fact that he's people and he's on my planet. However, it seems like every time we get a chance to talk for more than a few minutes, I spend it reassuring him that I'm not going to fucking leave him.

I gotta tell ya, this shit got old a while ago.

Marriage isn't a temporary thing for me. I made the commitment knowing that it's forever, good and bad, all that jazz. But he seems to think that I'm every other female on the face of the fucking planet. Really? I just don't know how to reassure him that I'm not going anywhere. I tell him, I'm completely honest with him about everything, we have yet to argue, but he still thinks I'm just here for now.

So how do I make him believe that I love him? He knew exactly how I was before we got married, yet now he wants to be everything I'm not. I'm not a nympho, or one of those dumb whores whose status updates are always about "my man." I don't spout out my feelings to him every day because it's just not who I am. But really? This coddling bullshit I have to do every other fucking day is getting fucking ridiculous.

Any suggestions?

Soooo....

I have absolutely nothing to say. I'd like to think that the best blogs start out that way, but that just isn't the case. I mean, really. Who wants to read the completely incoherent thoughts of some random person over the internet? And to make things worse, my computer is being a cranky little bitch. It acts like it's the one working 60 hours a week...

Oh yeah, did I mention that? 60. Fucking. Hours. Every week. No end in sight. I know, I know, I should be thankful to even have a job right now. Hell, that's why I go in. But seriously? This shit is bananas!

*B-A-NA-NA-S*

I'd apologize for the fact that you're going to have that song stuck in your head all day, but I'm not sorry :D

Anyway. I need to get back into the swing of blogging. Just writing in general, really. I don't have time to write my story about the baseball player and the stripper (it'll be good, I promise), so blogging every day will have to do. Only problem is, I have nothing to write about other than building clippers and being a newlywed.

I won't assault you with blogs about how I burnt dinner, oops!, mostly because I don't have time to cook. And, even if I did, I wouldn't burn it. I'm a goddess at the stove. As long as the package has directions, that is. Wanna hear about my diaphragm instead? Did I even spell that right?

Yeah. Pain in the ass. I mean, vagina. When I went to get fitted for it, the doctor wasn't even sure he'd be able to find a kit since it had been so long since he last used it. But he did, and now I have non-hormonal birth control that has a 16% failure rate. Awesome. And I have to drown it in spermicide, stick it in my hoo-ha (no more than an hour before intercourse, mind you!), and then remember to take it out later. Not immediately, oh no. Optimum time frame? 6-8 hours later. I suppose that makes sense. Have sex, go to sleep, and then take it out when you get up in the morning. Or early afternoon, in my case. Good times. And then it takes not one but TWO fingers to get it out, and I'm always still a little sore, and ooooooooooh, ouch, and no wonder I never want to have sex anyway.

Is anyone still reading?

So yeah. Life is boring. I'm happy, though. At least, I think I am. I dunno. Life is drama-free and same ol', same ol' all the time, and that's what I wanted. I knew boredom was going to be part of it. I have a husband who worships the ground I walk on, who's afraid that I'll leave him if he breathes the wrong way, and who would fuck me all day long if he could. That's how it's supposed to be, right? Then why I am already questioning whether or not I did the right thing?

Oh yeah. It's because this whole marriage thing hasn't sunk in yet. It's been 2 months, and we were only together 5 months before that. It all went so fast, and I was just looking for a reliable fuckbuddy when I met him. I'm still getting used to the fact that he's not the "strong silent type" like guys are supposed to be, and that he just wants to be with me constantly. I haven't had a day to myself in waaaaaaaaaay too long. I need that time to recharge, to get my bearings again, to blog about stupid shit that is totally irrelevant to everybody else.

But no. I get one day a week to not be at work, and he has decided that MY one day belongs to him.

It's so hard to be understood as an introvert. That, hopefully, will be the most retarded statement in this blog. But seriously? He just doesn't realize that I need to be completely, 100% alone every now and then. Otherwise, every little thing gets fucking annoying and I want to shoot a fucker in the fucking face. But I can't, because then I'd have to go to jail, and I can't fight for anything as far as I know, and I don't want to be some butch dyke's bitch.

Sigh.

We filled out applications for North Carolina jobs the other night. Maybe life will be more exciting there. I can dream, can't I?

Dear Taylor Swift:

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Ode to Nicotine

My Marlboro Lights and I just celebrated our two year anniversary on Valentine's Day. Has it really only been two years? It feels as though my cigarettes have been with me my entire life, there to make it all better when everything just sucks. I spent years convincing myself that I shouldn't smoke. I know that I don't have the willpower to quit. However, I have no desire to quit. At all, whatsoever. I love that first smoke when I wake up, the one that I light as soon as I get into my car after a hectic day at work. I love my 3rd good night cigarette, because one is just never enough. I love inhaling each and every puff, watching the smoke swirl around my head. I love pissing off all the people who don't smoke and made it illegal to smoke in any public place in Illinois. Those bastards...

Most of all, I love that when I get stressed out, when everything is just too much to handle, all I need to do is take a smoke break and then I'm calmer.

Sure, it's a $5 a day habit. It stinks. It requires me to go outside in below zero weather just to get that fix. But ya know? I still love each and every puff. It's hell on my body, but that was the point.

You see, I started smoking to shave a few years off. It was at a time when everything sucked and I just wanted it all to stop. But when I started to freak out because I had no future, no money, almost nothing that meant anything to me, I had my cigarettes. They were there for me. They're a crutch, I know. At least, they were. Now, they're like an old friend. Only more dependable.

I can see myself as one of those old people taking a puff from a cigarette and then a breath from an oxygen tank someday. I'll still enjoy every puff.

We all have to die someday. I might as well enjoy it.

My new favorite thing EVER!

It's hard for me to admit this. It's like suddenly declaring that George W. Bush was the greatest president ever after my 8 years of hating him and pretty much every decision he ever made. It's like deciding that instead of loving alternative music, I have a newfound addiction to rap.

Ok, it's not as bad as the last one.

There's a new show that I like. I mean, really, really like. As in I DVR it every week and actually watch it the same night.

The show is on MTV.

Therein lies the problem.

The last show I followed on MTV was The Real World: New Orleans. I'm still in love with Matt, by the way. But that's neither here nor there.

After 10 years (I'm so fucking old) of hating MTV and everything it stands for, not to mention the lies within its name, I find myself addicted to one show.

Are you ready for this? This huge announcement that, although nothing to be ashamed of, still makes me quiver at the thought of letting it be known to the world that I LOVE this show?

I've fallen deeply, head-over-heels, no getting over it, in love with My Life as Liz.

She's the underdog, the nerd, the loser. She's the opposite of all the fake bitches she goes to school with. And can I tell you how much I want to punch that Cori Cooper bitch in the face? I hope she gets addicted to coke and ends up whoring herself out someday... soon.

Shut up, it's not like I wished for the trampy, stuck up little 17 year old to die or anything.

Seriously though. Watching this show makes me feel like I'm back in high school again. Not that I want to relive that time, it was fucking horrible, but still. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who's life was so unfabulous, for lack of a better non-existent word.

Like tonight? When Liz was talking to Bryson and his girlfriend walked up to them? I've been through that moment before, when everything seems to be going soooooooooo well, and then it all falls apart. The only difference between her life and mine is that I wouldn't have had a huge group of friends waiting to carry me out of the school in celebration of her accomplishment.

I can't wait to see how the rest of Liz's senior year plays out. I want to know what will happen with Bryson, which one of her guy friends is in love with her, whether Taylor will totally quit being so far up Cori's ass, what college Liz will go to, whether or not the show will follow her to college (which would be awesome), all of it. For me, it's like going through high school all over again. Only this time, I understand it all the way Liz does. It's not as hard as I made it out to be, and it's not as hard as she makes it out to be. After watching Liz, I wish I could go back and do it again. This time, I wouldn't waste time trying to be someone I wasn't. I'd be myself, and I'd be proud of it.

It would have been nice to have Liz's strength and sense of self at 17...

If you've lost respect for me due to my enjoyment of an MTV show, so be it. I understand completely. But it you haven't watched My Life as Liz yet, get on it. It's on Monday nights at 9:30 pm central time. You're missing out!!!

And also... I think "effectivity" makes more sense as a word than "effectiveness." Random, I know. Did you expect anything else?