I don’t want to throw in the towel just yet, but I think it’s pretty safe to say a 50,000 word novel is not going to happen this month.

I think my to do list is at least that many words, but I don’t know for sure, because I can’t find it.

This post showed up in my “unpublished drafts” folder. I’m sure I did publish it, but maybe my switch from blogger to wordpress in October moved it again.

Anyway, it’s a bucket list I started at the end of the summer.  I have been through a lot of changes over the last two weeks and it needs to be updated. But because I made the insane commitment to post everyday this month I’m reposting it and maybe will update later.

What I Do…

I know that several of you who read this blog allow me to hold sharp objects very close to your head. I have to say thank you for your bravery and reassure any of you who haven’t seen me in a while that there is no reason to be afraid.

I have noticed that business has slowed down quite a bit and I’m not sure if its the economy, summer in RVA or the tension you undoubtedly see on my face in the middle of a particularly nerve-searing techno song when I am dressed all in black like a suicidal teenager.

Doing hair is honestly one of the only things that calms and relaxes me. In case you had any doubt I need all of the calming and relaxing I can get. The last month has been pretty stressful. Nothing monumental, I guess I can best describe it as a rut. I get into these funks more and more often the older I get.

Luckily, one of the most recent facebook quizzes I took assured me that I have already lived 93% of my life and every time I take the “real age” survey the age gets higher and higher and they have more ridiculous advice for me. Most recently my real age is 56 and they suggest I “get better bladder control” which I can only assume means don’t drink so damn much.

Since I obviously don’t have much time left I have decided to work on a bucket list. Its not easy. Here is what I have so far:

• Quit smoking.
• Find my checkbook before I accumulate any more late fees or my cable gets cut off. Again.
• Open my own hair salon in honor of my late mother.
• Go through hypnotherapy to bring back all of my blocked memories and write a bestselling memoir. Providing they can bring back blackouts.
• Go on Supernanny or Dr Phil and have them tell me I’m doing everything right, it’s definitely someone else’s fault.
• Lose thirty pounds without eating healthy or working out or surgery…I realize my best options are crack or cancer.
• Build my own playground for grown ups. (Not “adult” playground you pervert.)
• Throw a shopping cart at the next Kmart shopper who stands too close to me in line.
• Meet William Shatner.
• See the last guy who text message dumped me in public and be wasted enough to punch him in the face.
• Create a budget and meet a man who is able to afford my budget. Maybe William Shatner?
• See naked midgets run through my neighborhood, Jerry Springer style.

• And instead of “get better bladder control,” be a trendsetter and create the most beautiful bedazzled depends with their very own late night infomercial in honor of the late Billy Mays.

Its definitely a work in progress.

Yesterday, after overhearing a phone call in which I calmly explained to a customer service representative exactly how long was appropriate to keep a dissatisfied customer on hold, a friend complimented my ability to “chew someone out” in such a pleasant way. Later, another friend described it to someone this way, “you know all those things you think of later that you wish you had said? Maya says them.”

While I respect the strong work ethic that I learned from both of my parents, my communication skills did not come from either one. Every so often, I get flustered and clumsily stumble over my words, like my mother, or get so angry that I shake, like my father, but more often, I am able to express myself clearly.

Early this morning, as I began my routine of household chores, I turned on the TV.  As usual I couldn’t find the remote, but I wasn’t too disappointed to see that Nickolodeon has added “The Cosby Show” to it’s early morning line up, and one of my favorite episodes was on

Like a lot of kids who had very little parental guidance in the 1980’s, I became an adopted member of the Huxtable family. Wishing with all my heart that the, incredibly selfish and spoiled, Vanessa would be banished, for not appreciating what she had. Wishing that I would be moved  into the love filled brownstone, where understanding parents were always around to turn everyday activities into meaningful life lessons.

One of the proudest moments of my high school career was winning a debate competition in my junior year. The catagory was extemporaneous speaking and it was truly extemporaneous as I had no idea what the word meant until 20 minutes before giving a speech on a topic that I had absolutely no interest in.

Soon after, I gave a persuasive speech on the legalization of marijuana. All my supporting facts came from a Cypress Hill cassette insert. I was soon inundated with opportunities to discuss my views, behind the driver’s ed trailer, ending my short lived debate career

On my trip down memory lane this morning, it occurred to me just how much I learned from this classic sitcom, and how much my life changed in 1992. It can’t be coincidence that this was the same year “The Cosby Show” ended and “The Jerry Springer Show” began.

Not only am I overly competitive, refusing to ever surrender to failure, I also tend to analyze the “why” of every move I make, with brutal honesty. I have come to the conclusion that in order to actually change a bad habit, I have to turn it into a competition. Even if it’s just with myself.

Back in the spring I challenged myself to a 30 day fast food fast. It went well for the 30 days and I didn’t completely return to daily fast food, but I still eat too much of it. Today I’m brainstorming the next nutrition challenge I am going to set for myself, my eating habits are so horrible I have lots of options.

In the meantime, this is a repost from the first week of my “fast food fast.”

I Will Survive

Contents of my fridge last week: 10 beers, 2 empty wine bottles, stick of butter, jellybeans, ranch dressing, 3 oranges, bacon bits, moldy grapes? can’t tell for sure, ice trays.

Contents of my fridge now: a bunch of shit I don’t know what to do with.

Two weeks ago I asked my kids what they wanted for dinner. My daughter suggested subway. My immediate response was, “I’m not taking ya’ll anywhere that doesn’t have a drive thru.” That’s when I knew for sure I had a problem. For the past four months I have eaten fast food at least once a day. Really.

I am now on day 6 of a 30 day fast food fast. So far it sucks

monday: grocery shopping overwhelming but exciting.
tuesday: veggie burger for lunch. Thank god for those bacon bits.
wednesday: mini nervous breakdown. Uncontrollable crying.
thursday: migraine headache. Maybe a stroke?
friday: blind rage followed by another headache.
saturday: hot flashes and chills. Horrible digestive issues.

Finally it has occured to me that I am suffering from withdrawals. I am disgusted by my addiction.

But a nachos bellgrande sure does sound good.

Today marks the beginning of the second week at my new job.

Last week was awesome, and I already feel like I’ve been there for years.

I am happy and comfortable. I feel productive again and hopefully, one day I’ll have enough time to share, the dramatic story of how I ended up in the tortuous hellhole, that was my last place of employment.

Thankfully it feels so far behind me already that, instead of wishing horrible things on horrible people, I am content to live and let live. It really was just a blip in my career.

I still have some adjusting to do and as I read my comments from yesterdays post, I feel like I need to apologize to a few of my readers.

For those of you who don’t blog, you  probably don’t realize  the kind of support that bloggers provide each other. Thank you ladies, so much for your regular comments.

As I read yesterdays comments, I noticed each of you were struck by the exact same thing,  I have found a rare bunch of women who share the sense of humor of six year old boys, and aren’t afraid to admit it. I really appreciate you guys. I entertained myself most of the day, imagining each and every one of  you, making up your very own “penis in a blanket” songs.

I have been a neglectful blog follower, and haven’t left a single comment in days.

Please, forgive  me, I will get my stuff together soon. Thanks for sticking with me through this exciting time in my life.

I especially want to thank Lady Wanderlust, at World According 2 Lisa, for presenting me with her very own Crown Sistah Award, almost an  entire month ago. I apologize for taking so long to accept it publicly, but have been a very proud Crown Sistah since the day received it.

It seems Lady Wanderlust and I were probably separated at birth. Unfortunately, it seems this separation was performed by a very cruel surgeon, who left me with a little less than a B cup, and left her with, well, a whole lot more. If it wasn’t for this one difference though, I would suspect that we were the same person, which in the end would cost me many more therapy dollars than I can afford.

If you like me, you will love her.  And  if  you despise me, and are just here to laugh at  my daily failures, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your visit either.

Thank you so much!!!

Because there are so many blogs that I love and would like to  share with you, I’m adding a few to my recommended reading page every day, so be sure to check it out regularly.

There are times, as busy parents, when we forget just how valuable each and every moment spent with our children can be.  Our most important job is to teach them how to live productive, fulfilling lives. In our rush to juggle it all, it is easy to forget that every experience we have with our children is an opportunity to guide them.

No parent is perfect.  Even though we sometimes make bad decisions, there is usually an opportunity to get back on track, right around the corner.

Sometimes, we are left standing cold and frustrated, in a windy parking lot, at a loss of how to convince our three year olds to sit still long enough for our frozen fingers to properly fasten their seat belt.

We don’t always jump in to dispute an older sibling’s elaborate story of having to ride in the trunk, so Mommy doesn’t get a ticket.

We forget that we should probably stop her pleas, to an easily frightened little brother, to sit still because it is cold and dark in there, and she just can’t lose another baby brother to the vampires that she suspects live in that trunk.

Mostly because it is working in our favor (you now understand the monikers Wednesday and Lady Dementia).

We know that the only accomplishment gained from these types of experiences are for the short term, avoiding frostbite is not a good enough excuse to passively encourage severe emotional damage.

But we should also remember that parenting is a process. We have to move on from our guilt.

In a few short hours, we may have the golden opportunity to prove that we will always be there for them.

We can use something as routine as, another explosive bout of diarhhea, this time in the dining room of a  favorite restaurant, to show our unconditional love. We don’t hestitate to run into the men’s room, because a teenager has locked the women’s room door after a loud, public argument with her mother.

We can teach important lessons about problem solving and responsibility to our families, by having an older sibling lock herself, her brother and his disgusting stench in the men’s room, while we run to our car and get a blanket, because there was no other choice than to throw away every single stitch of clothing he had on.

We can teach our children a lesson on courtesy, as we apologetically inform the cashier, that while we cleaned up as much as possible with the resources we had, they should probably sanitize the men’s room and take out the trash as soon as possible.

We can give an example of self confidence as we leave a restaurant, we fully intend on returning to, carrying a child who after a seemingly miraculous recovery is now singing a song about his “penis in a blanket” at the top of his lungs, we stop just long enough to grab a take out menu.

Much to MC Bizzy J’s delight, I have stuck to my resolution of being presentable before leaving the house every day.

As I’ve mentioned before, even at the ripe old age of three and a half, my son is very much a man’s man.

That being said, he also has very strong fashion opinions.  There were a couple of mild morning wardrobe meltdowns this week.

One, when his khaki pants were too wrinkled to wear to school and I tried to put him in athletic pants. I think it was my guilt, over my own laundry challenges, that led me to be uncharacteristically accommodating. Searching for a clean pair of dark wash jeans (his very specific request) to wear. ( by the way, if anyone would like to volunteer to teach MC Bizzy J how to iron, it would be much appreciated.) And another when I went outside to start the car still wearing my 24 hour clothes, causing him to fear I was going to walk him to his classroom in my  “jamas.”

I have constantly struggled with an inability to look “put together” for more than a few minutes at a time.

Anyone who has this problem, understands that it is surely, a very poorly researched, genetic malfunction. My mother had the same issues and, while Wednesday has always had a very unique sense of style, I have passed the “frumpy gene” down to her.

We are the kind of people who should probably wear bibs at every meal, and most times shower caps, to keep from getting food in our hair. If there is dog poop in a one block radius, we will step in it and, when we bend over to check the bottom of our shoes, you will have to resist the urge to ask us if we can help with a leaky kitchen sink.  That is, unless our underwear is sticking up three inches higher than our pants. We have to work hard to avoid writing on our faces every time we pick of a pen or marker, and if we paint, you can be sure we will be covered in it for the next three weeks.

We love to do girly things like shop,  paint our nails and put on makeup, but we are  too easily distracted to be able to remember where we put the shoes that match our outfits, or to touch up nail polish that is immediately smeared or chipped, or to check the mirror after we laugh so hard, that our eyeliner has spread all the way to our very low hairlines.
In my excitement of being allowed to wear color, and out of necessity to buy larger sizes (we have both grown a lot this year. Unfortunately, she is the only one who is supposed to be growing), we have both updated our wardrobes a little and spent some time each night deciding what we are going to wear.

MC Bizzy J has taken notice of our planning and has been showering us with compliments. On Saturday afternoon, when I didn’t have enough time to change out of my work clothes before dinner, he looked at me proudly, and said,  “I love your boots, Mommy.” (I have to say that they are my most awesome boots, purchased last year at an incredible clearance price.)

I was excited that such a simple thing could make him so happy. He also helped me to remember, that this is a habit that I will have to pay some attention to, when he quickly added, with the kind of honesty that only a three year old can get away with…”but I love your friend’s boots better.”

The other day I edited and reposted one of my first blog entries.

Yesterday, I decided I wasn’t going to do that anymore, because each one is like one of my babies and even though there is room for improvement, I would really rather leave them exactly as they are, for memories sake.

So here are two more oldies but goodies, that I decided to leave unedited.

Single Life

As you have probably guessed I am single. Like a lot of nutsos out there I decided to try out online dating. My ex asked me today to compose a match.com profile for him. I thought I would share mine just to give you an idea of how dating is going.

Bitter, Jaded, Excessive Emotional Baggage. Interested?

I’ve been here a while and I’ve decided to put it all out there. So here it goes.

First of all, my pictures, they are all me. I’m a single mom so I don’t have many pictures of me with no kids. There are too many creepazoids out there to put those up.

I’m not actively looking for a serious relationship, whatever happens, happens. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you, it means I’m a commitment-phobe. So please don’t ask me to marry you in an e-mail.

If things do happen to progress, its best if you leave before the sun comes up, I like my morning smoke alone. But don’t count on that because you aren’t going to get me drunk and take advantage. I’m a pro at being wasted. As a matter of fact I’m probably wasted and chain smoking right now.

I’ve got a foul mouth and I’m not very graceful. Sometimes I fall down, usually it’s when I’m sober.

Dinner at your place is not an option for a first date. I’m not a picky eater but there’s always a chance I won’t like your cooking. I’d rather go out to eat than risk starving, or showing up on the back of a milk carton.

I don’t care how much money you make or how much you lost in the divorce, so lets not talk about it. It’s really none of my business.

I have no ex drama but I do have two beautiful, perfect children who you will probably never meet. Unless I’m tryng to get rid of you.

I’m big on efficiency and I’m really impatient. Despite that I’m pretty low maintenance when it comes to relationships. I’m very independent. I like the idea of a knight in shining armor but would rather do most things for myself. I love living alone. I’m not really good at sharing, I hate the idea of people moving my stuff around. Especally my meds.

I’m not afraid to ask anything or tell you what I think. If bold and assertive is really a turn on I’m your girl.

I’m into strong, useful, manly men. I like guys a little rough around the edges, muscle cars and motorcycles.

If you’ve been single more than three days and your mother doesn’t buy your girlfriends underwear (my standards are getting lower every day) send me an email. Maybe we can go grab a beer.

By the way, if you aren’t single you can move on, obviously I have enough issues.

Needless to say it hasnt been a romance filled year and a half.

Apparently, Match.com realizes that I will be single for a very long time, because my profile is still up. This post will illustrate a few reasons, I have no desire to check my new emails.

A Few Rules

Dating has been a lot more work than I expected. There are a lot of rules that it seems like everyone knows that just don’t make any sense to me. Here are just a few things I have learned in my dating adventures.

• Ten beers on a first date is at least one too many but if you are going to drink that much make sure it is clear beforehand that you will not be splitting the check.

• “That’s hot” is not an appropriate response to finding out your dates mother is dead.

• Texting immediately after a first date is not usually a good idea but texting ”I would totally be your stalker if I knew where you lived” is guaranteed to get you a second date.

• It is not acceptable to remove your shoes at the dinner table in an effort to show how comfortable you are with your date. The same is true with push up pad inserts and hairpieces. This is apparently a “turn off”

• “How many times have you been arrested?” is not a good conversation starter. Surprisingly enough the answer is usually zero and I have found that you are usually expected to answer as well.

• And one for the guys, you don’t necessarily have to hold the door but if your date falls down the stairs, it’s a good idea to try and catch them instead of staring in horror. It’s called chivalry.

I don’t have any idea why I am still awake. I am actually nodding a little as I sit here.

I am going to schedule this to post early tomorrow morning (which probably won’t work because it never has before) in order to try and keep up with January NaBloPoMo.

Because it won’t work, and I obsess over these things, I will probably wake up 30 minutes before my usual 4:45am inner insomniac alarm starts blaring all of the things that could possibly go wrong in the next 24 hours.

This morning was one of the few mornings that I probably could have successfully hit the snooze button on the voices. It’s been a productive week, but it’s also been an exhausting week so far.

Fortunately, a higher power realized that there just aren’t enough hours in the day, to get a good night’s sleep and to participate in the level of neoutic behaviors that my body is accustomed to.  After only 2 and a half hours of sleep, I woke up to, my sweet MC Bizzy J climbing into my bed asking me to rub his tummy, because it was sick.

I had just enough time to open my eyes, and think what a cute little angel I have, before being covered in regurgitated cranberry juice and crunchy granola bar.

Obviously, it was time to get up, and get this obsessive compulsive show on the road.

After putting MC Bizzy J in a bath, changing the sheets, and changing my clothes, I was reminded why a parent should never be too quick to rid themselves of blown chunks.

Every experienced parent knows, that as soon as you get the last bit of your preschooler’s evening snack out of your hair, it’s time for round two.

And if by chance you were anywhere close to caching up on the laundry, there will probably be a round three.

Maybe even a bonus round, that includes rocket diarrhea into a potty chair (I now consider potty chairs to be as disposable as pull ups).

The only way to stop this vicious cycle seems to be sending your child to their dad’s house (I’m not the worst Mom ever, remember Thursday is his day. On days like today our separation agreement is like my bible.) where they will enjoy a wonderful day of shopping and museum visiting (apparently all toxins were expelled at my house, and by 8:45 MC Bizzy J was back to normal).

First, a question for all of the more experienced bloggers who might be reading. Do any of you know what exactly causes one to receive 96 spam comments in a day?

I can only hope it is one more sign that I might finally be on the map.

I have have also been spewing nothing but “life is awesome” positivity, the last few days

So as a celebration of so many extra blog visits last night, and a reminder of what a well rounded person I am, I am going to share one of my very first blog posts (I did edit it a little, it really is amazing how much your writing style changes after just a few months of overly, harsh self criticism. It is also amazing that my inner oppressor ever lets me click the publish button.)

Gun Control

I am often accused of having anger issues. My most recent accuser was my seven year old daughter.

This accusation did not lead to her being sent to her room with no dinner, and no breakfast, just to be sure I had proved my point.

It did lead to a very revealing conversation. I was able to explain to her truthfully, that anger is the emotion I feel most comfortable with. It is just easier for me to be angry than it is for me to be sad, embarrassed, happy, etc.

The following list, as well as being an example for my readers of just exactly what sets me off, is also my personal argument for stronger gun control laws.

I am allowed to purchase a gun and that should scare all of you.

Luckily, I know better than to own a gun. The only times I have seriously considered purchasing a gun, I have been too drunk to drive myself to the gun store.

Luckily, my loved also ones know that I do not need to own a gun. Or they might just be terrified that any second my wrath could turn on them. Even after many late night phone calls, I have not been able to get a ride to any gun store.

This is the beginning of my list of people I would very likely shoot in a fit of rage if I had a gun:

• people who chew with their mouth open, people who talk with their mouths full and people who eat too close to me.

• people who drive too slow in the fast lane, people who won’t let me over and make me miss my exit, people who honk at me when I’m not paying attention at a stoplight, and people who give me dirty looks when I cut them off.

• people who talk baby talk to children and animals, and people who think my children are obnoxious.

• t-mobile customer service representatives, comcast customer service representatives, wachovia customer service representatives, and dominion virginia power customer service representatives.

• women who say they like being pregnant, and women with children who don’t have to wear body shaping undergarments.

• people who take up two parking spots or park right on the line, people who wait for close parking spots instead of walking, and people who think I am going to move my car just because they are about to hit me

• people who take for ever choosing their $20 lottery tickets, when my debit card has been declined at the pump, and gas station attendants, who are unfortunate enough to work in gas stations, that don’t keep king size butterfingers in stock.

• most of the men I have dated, and their wives.

Once I started this list I realized it could go on for miles, but I am going to assume you get the idea.

If you don’t you will soon be added to the list.