Monday, December 29, 2008

Monday, December 8, 2008

Just between you and me....

Ok, so I've been holding out on you just the tiniest bit.

Let's see... STILL living at the office, (except when Thing One is home, and I have to confess, I stay at home when she is there. My kids do not like visiting me at the office....)

STILL have not filed for divorce.... (holding out as long as I can, waiting for Thing Two to turn 18).

STILL have not filed bankruptcy (which I HAVE to do, don't look down your noses at me...)

STILL have not found a home.

OH MY GAWD, this separation thing is difficult....


Kids, I have a secret to share with you....

I met someone who makes my heart smile. He makes my toes curl. He makes me giggle in a most unladylike manner. He makes my skies turn blue. He makes the birds sing for me.

He is truly the kindest, gentlest man on the face of this planet. And what do you think about this? He thinks *I* am special! Will wonders never cease?

I call him Booboo. He calls me Yogi. Couldn't you just VOMIT? We are so gay....

Booboo, I have outed us on my blog. Because the world deserves to know just how happy you make me....

Monday, November 17, 2008

Ready, set... JUMP!!!

For those of you who are interested, I have indeed left my home. I've been living at my office for a week. Thank the stars for my boss, who has agreed to let me stay here until I find a place to live.

I am fine, I have a place to sleep, food, clothes, and a shower. I have books, I have music. I have my phone.

I haven't been hurt or threatened.

If you have called, emailed, texted, or IM'd me, and I have not answered, do not take it personal. I have not talked to anyone. I only just last night called my dad and told him the news.

I am exhausted. I don't feel like talking about it. I love and appreciate each and everyone of you, but right now, I just want to... rest.

I want to talk to and enjoy the time I can spend with my kids. I want to decide what to do about my future. I want to relax and read a couple of books and SLEEP...

Yes, I am worried, sad, lonely, angry, loaded down with guilt and anxiety. I feel in my heart I am doing the right thing, and that's the only thing that keeps my feet moving forward.

Fling a few wishes to the heavens for me, and I'll be back soon....


Monday, November 10, 2008


I'm kind of homeless, at the moment.

A little scared.

A whole lot sad.

Completely clueless as to what to do next.

Isn't this what I wanted?

Saturday, November 8, 2008


Kids, today is my Birthday!!!

I had a lot planned that I wanted to say, but it didn't work out that I could say it...

I'm in Morgantown with my girls and having a really good time. We're about to drink some pomegranate martini's (my favorite!!) and head over to the WVU football game...

I'm trying to squeeze every second of happiness into this weekend that I can.... when I go home tomorrow the shit's about to hit the fan...

Love and stuff,


Sunday, November 2, 2008

Everything I know about politics, I learned from Tina Fey....

I hate politics.

I hate talking about politics, and I hate listening to it. I hate presidential debates, I hate political advertisements, I hate polls, and I hate "momocrats." I don't even know what a momocrat is, but I hate them on principal.

The only good thing to come out of this election, in my humble opinion, has been the Sarah Palin skits on SNL. I pink puffy heart Tina Fey.

I've listened, for MONTHS, while people around me discussed Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Hilary Clinton, John McCain, Sarah Palin and others, whose names I have chosen to commit to non-memory. I've been bored out of my fucking mind.

People are REALLY interested this time, though. Perhaps because, Democrat or Republican, this country is about to make history. Which, I suppose, is interesting, in a "Please do not pre-empt House again, you dirty motherfuckers or I'm about to get CRAZY up in this bitch" kind of way.


I've heard people say Obama may be the anti-Christ. I've heard him called a Socialist. People don't like his name. They don't like the color of his skin. They don't like Sarah Palin because she spends money on clothes. LOTS of money. They don't like McCain because... well I didn't listen that far. I have no idea why they don't like him. I fell into a self-imposed ennui COMA, before I listened to everything people were saying.

I'll tell you right now, I have no fucking intention of voting. I could not possibly care LESS who wins. Because I'll tell you firmly what I believe... It doesn't matter who wins. It does not make one tiny little bit of difference.

Because no matter who gets the nod, the rich are going to be rich. The poor are going to be poor. People are still going to kill each other. Children are going to be hungry. Old people are still going to eat cat food. People will still believe in God. People won't believe in God. Teenagers will still do drugs and have unprotected sex.

And the sun will still shine. The rain will still fall...

There will still be fires and floods and earthquakes and hurricanes. A freshly fallen snow will still be beautiful, and Diet Coke with Lime will still be delicious.

Wars will still be fought, husbands will still cheat on their wives (and yes, wives will still cheat on their husbands), and Hollywood will still keep churning out Rocky movies.

You get my drift. Life will still go on. People will adapt. Everything will still suck.

I'll tell you what would happen if I were to be made president....

Not one single child would go hungry.

Not one single person would go without an education, if they want one, whether they are 8 or 18 or 80.

No one would lose their home to foreclosure.

No one would be denied healthcare.

No dollar would go untaxed, and that includes the billions of them that belong to the rich people.

People would speak English in this country or they would get the fuck out.

We'd get our fucking nose out of everybody else's business, and stick it in our OWN business, and fix what is wrong with OUR country, and let the rest of the world fix their own shit.

Children who misbehaved in school would get their little asses spanked.

Any person guilty of hurting, molesting, or neglecting a child would die. Period.

Jell-O would be illegal. That one is non-negotiable, people.

And everyone would be required to buy me presents for my birthday.

And Little Debbie cakes would be free.....

Friday, October 17, 2008


I've decided to muddle through, alone... without the internet...

ta ta for now

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

what i want for my birthday...

i want a ticket to paradise...

i want a lifetime supply of diet coke with lime...

i want a cloaking device...

i want to be happy...

i want a pizza, thin crust, with pepperoni, mushrooms, green pepper and onion...

i want new shoes...

i want good sex...

i want to sing...

i want people to stop breathing my air...

i want stoo-pid to be against the law...

i want romance...

i want to write really well...

i want candy...

i want blue eyes...

i want a laptop...

i want a lap...

i want a party...

i want a secret admirer...

i want to be a private detective...

i want to tell people, "i'm a private dick..."

i want my children to be happy...

i want a kiss...

i want to win a contest...

i want to join the circus...

i want to be on oprah...

i want a spa day...

i want a divorce...

i want a shopping spree...

i want a girls' night out...

i want to be excited about something...

i want perky boobies...

i want to be in love...

i want my mommy...

ps: you have 24 days to plan amongst yourselves how best to give me what i want...

hearts and smoochies!

miss ann derstood

Thursday, October 9, 2008

simple... and obvious...

she sits alone in a darkened room and waits for a savior,
but no one comes...
and she thinks, "what is wrong with me that no one comes?"

and so it goes...

she's filled with indecision, with fear, with doubt...
and so she waits
for a savior.
but no one comes...

until one day she listens
to a tiny inner voice
that whispers, "it isn't you..."

and then...

she sits alone in a darkened room and waits for a savior,
but no one comes...
and she thinks, "what is wrong with everyone that no one comes?"

and so it goes...

she's filled with anger, and resentment, and suspicion...
and so she waits
for a savior.
but no one comes...

until one day she listens
to a tiny inner voice
that whispers "it isn't them..."

and then...

she stands alone in the big outside world, and waits for nothing.
and friends come...
and she thinks, "i saved myself, because i am worth it."

and so it goes...


Tuesday, September 30, 2008

He's my brother....

Banner generated at

I love you, you crazy fucker...

MySpace Comments

Monday, September 29, 2008

How do I love Miss Katie? Let me count the ways...

Today is Miss Katie's birthday... I don't know how old she is, isn't that awful? I'm a horrible sister. However, she's probably very grateful that I DON'T know, because I would announce it to the universe in this post...

I met Kate about.... lots of years ago. (People, I have no mind left. Don't ask me when ANYTHING happened, because I have no idea. But that makes my stories kinda fun, doncha think?) Mitchell brought her home to meet "the family."

Now... you have to understand my family. First of all, there is my dad, and his live-in-LUVAH, Crusty. Crusty has a daughter slightly older than Thing One. Let's call her Crumb. Crumb has some emotional problems and some other stuff that we won't even get into here. Let's just say that if people were placed in order, from the mentally stable at the top, down to the... um... UNSTABLE, at the bottom... my family would not be very high up. Crusty and Crumb would not even make the chart. OK?

So, you've got my dad, who is loud, and argumentative, intelligent, and he packs his jaws like a gerbil when he eats. You have Crusty, who is loud, crass, and calls people "a bunch of assidines." And no, it isn't a word. And you have Crumb, whose favorite expression, at that time (and maybe still, hell I don't know) was "stupid dummy!"

Next up, you have Mark and Michelle and the boys, though Michelle has since run for the hills, creating a scandal the likes of which this family has never... ok, yeah, we've seen it before, because we have MITCHELL.

Mark is not necessarily loud. He's a good ol' boy, who is everybody's friend. Seriously, I don't think you can meet Mark and NOT adore him. It's only after you get to know him that he begins to rub you the wrong way... Like sandpaper. Or a wire brush. Michelle was friendly and outgoing, at least way back THEN, but she, too, was LOUD. Mark's kids, BoyThing One and BoyThing Two were foul mouthed little terrorists, who called each other things like "motherfuckhead" and "cunninglingus".

Finally, a breath of fresh air in the vile pit of familial dung, you have me, and Things One and Two. I laugh, I curse, I shout, and occasionaly, I sing... though off-key. At that time, my girls would have cut off their appendages rather than say a bad word. Thing One was quiet and shy, and Thing Two, though she was NOT a fan of Crumb and would NOT hesitate to tell her at ANY moment on ANY given day, was so cute with her curls and her hillbilly accent, you couldn't HELP but love her.

And into this mix, Mitchell brings Miss Katie....

Lord have mercy...

I watched her, that day... and decided that she hated all of us. And I couldn't understand it. I mean, my God, we were FUN! How... how could ANYONE in their right mind NOT love us? I figured Kate was either NOT in her right mind... OR, it was Crusty and Crumb's fault.

It couldn't have been any of US.

Kate, on this, the anniversary of your birth, let me just tell you that I ADORE you. And here's why:

1. You are gentle and kind.

2. You have a wonderful sense of humor.

3. You are COMPLETELY in your right mind. :)

4. You opened up your heart to me, when I needed a friend so badly.

5. You are incredibly intelligent. This is a biggie, because I have a low tolerance for stoo-pid.

6. You are generous in the extreme.

7. You are a wonderful mother.

8. Even though you are a God-hater, you do not try to force your beliefs on anyone. And I'm only teasing, you are not a God-hater, you are more of a God-Doubter.

9. You tell it like it is. I can always count on you for an honest opinion. And also, you are mostly always on my side.

10. You keep Mitch.

11. And this is the most important one: YOU SHARE YOUR BOOKS WITH ME.

Seriously? You are my sister, my confidant, my "if Mitchell dies and leaves you lots of money, I will marry you and be your non-practicing lesbian LUVAH" best friend. I believe, with all my heart, that Mitchell is the man he is today because of you. And that's a good thing, Kate.

Happy Birthday, Sister. I love you.

ps. I WILL be calling to sing. And you WILL NOT laugh. k, thx, bye.

pps. INTERNETS? Be sure and read the post from last night, to my baby girl....

Sunday, September 28, 2008

10:57 PM, September 28

She is 1/2 of my heart. A beautiful, intelligent, charismatic young lady. I am ever so proud to call her my daughter. Her smile can take away all of my sadness. Her laugh reminds me that I am not alone. And each time she hugs me, I am reminded why I do not run over her screechy ass with my car....

Just yesterday, she looked like this:

Today, she turned 22:

Happy Birthday, Thing One!!



Thursday, September 25, 2008

Well if YOU didn't take it, who the fuck did?

I get blamed for everything. My God, if I'd done HALF of what I've been accused of, I'd be the world's most accomplished burglar/assassin/bitch/whore.....

If anything, and I mean ANYTHING is lost or misplaced at home, I'm the first one to get blamed for it:

"Mom! What did you do with my bill from the power company? I laid it RIGHT fucking here and now it's gone!"

"Wife, where did you hide my LED mini flashlight? It was here on the dresser when I went to bed last night!"

"Mom! Where's my new white t-shirt? I havent' seen it since we brought it home! I want to wear it today!"

If there's an argument, a disagreement, a knock-down-drag-out FREEFORALL, I'm certainly the cause of it:

"Well, YOU were the one bein' all HATEFUL and shit!"

"Well, if YOU had just listened to me, I wouldn't have gotten mad, and the whole thing could have been AVOIDED!"

"Look, I haven't done anything wrong, I'm the VICTIM here!!"

If there's a question, a suspicion, an accusation one can pull from THIN AIR and pin on me, it will be done:

"Mom, who are you texting? Is it a MAN? Do I need to tell DADDY?"

"Who was that who just spoke to you? A client? What KIND of client?"

"Where are you? Who are you with? Is that a man's voice I hear? Who the FUCK are you with?"

At work, it's the same fucking thing:

"Mr. Lawyer? I called earlier and your rude secretary hung UP on me!!!"

"This bill is LATE! Why didn't it get paid?"

"You double booked me for 1:15. Can you not read? The appointment book already HAD someone down for 1:15?"

"Why didn't you do the dishes?"

"Why isn't the filing done?"


I'm losing my sweet disposition, here, people.... If I weren't so pretty and sweet and FUNNY, I'd think people didn't LIKE me!

But, as usual, I've come up with a solution. I'm going to print the following sign, and hang it in my home and office:

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Frozen in time....

This is my family. At the front, left, is Mark. And he has HAIR! And of course, he wouldn't be Mark without his bottom lip stuffed full of shit.. er, I mean snuff...

I'm in the middle, and see how UNfat I am? This picture is PRE-good hair, by the way.

To the right is Mitchell, with that million-dollar-smile.

In the back, on the right, is my dad, looking particularly goofy. That's because, apparently, my dad believed if he looked directly at the camera, it would steal his soul. I don't think I own a picture of him looking into the camera. Note that Daddy's jaw is stuffed full of shit also. Lot of shit stuffing goin' on in my family back then, seems like.

On the left, in the back, is my tiny little wonderful mother. My mother with the big hair. The source of most of our smiles.

This is a "frozen moment", a snapshot of one tiny, precious instant, when my family was happy. I can assure you that probably no more than five minutes after this picture was taken, Mitchell was likely doing something that made me call him an asshole, Mark was scrunching up his face, in that look he gets when I'm LOUD, and Daddy was brooding about something that someone did to piss him off.

But my mom's smile, her happiness, would have remained. We were at my Aunt JoAnn's house that day, either for Thanksgiving, or just after Christmas. Mom would have been happy just to spend time with her sister, and my cousin Randy. For that matter, we ALL were happy to be spending time with Jo and Randy. Everyone ignored Uncle Harold, who was a grouchy old bastard. Kevin was practically invisible, and I was the only one who liked JohnPaul.

You couldn't help loving Aunt JoAnn. Her sweetness and willingness to please, combined with her intelligence and wit, well she was just... awesome. Had I not had the absolute WORLD'S MOST WONDERFUL MOTHER, I would have picked Aunt Jo for my mom. Except then Uncle Howie (a name JohnPaul and I called him to piss him off) would have been my dad. And that would not do...

Cousin Randy is one of those people whose goodness is like a light. It shines brightly in any situation, at any time, and on any day or night. He was, and is, just as comfortable playing gin rummy and listening to the woes of his ADORABLE sixteen year old cousin (ME!!) as he was talking politics, coal mining, and unions with my dad. And as comfortable playing chess or shooting pool with my brothers. Randy was who you needed him to be. Friend, confidant, minister, counselor...

My family used to visit Aunt Jo and Uncle Howie several times a year, for overnight visits. They'd come to our house too, though Howie wouldn't usually want to spend the night, the old shit.

Their home was a place of peace for us. An island of calm in the midst of some of our trauma... Most of my happy memories from my childhood somehow involve Cousin Randy or Aunt JoAnn. I don't ever remember not wanting to go visit, or not having a good time while we were there...


After my mom died, Aunt Jo, in her grief, cut all of us out of her life. She was angry at my dad, and probably me, for keeping my mom at home to die. Aunt Jo thought mom would have lived longer had she been in the hospital. And maybe she would have, but that was not where she wanted to BE. She wanted to be at home, in her own bed. Surrounded by her things, and her family.

Anyway, for several years I did not see Aunt JoAnn, except by accident. I hid my hurt, and showed my anger, swearing to walk away without a word, should she ever approach me. I don't think anyone was fooled by my show. They knew how much I loved her. The truth is, I WAS angry, but not for the reasons I gave. I didn't care that she was mad at my dad. I didn't care that she thought we shortened mom's life. I NEEDED her, I needed someone for ME, someone whose shoulder I could lay MY head on. I needed my "second" mom.

And I felt she let me down big...

Now, I realize I let her down big too. I should have gone to her, I should have told her what was in my heart, done whatever necessary to preserve our relationship. Instead, I let time slip by, and let the pain and anger harden my heart...

Aunt Jo and I have since reconciled, to a degree. We speak now. We hug. I kiss her soft little wrinkled cheek. We laugh, and talk. But I only see her once a year, and that ache, that need for her in my life, that has never gone away....

I think she is comfortable with the way things are. I don't get a feeling of "unfinished-ness" when I'm with her...

So, I make do with my happy little memories, and my "frozen moments", and I let it be...

Friday, September 19, 2008

Miss Anne in Wonderland...


"mmm, yeah? What?"

"um... Daddy's drinking ranch dressing."



"He's what?"

"He's drinking the ranch dressing. Pouring it in his mouth. Swallowing. DRINKING. THE. RANCH. DRESSING."

......<---(that'd be me, walking to the kitchen to take a look)

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Eating chicken."

"Are you DRINKING ranch dressing? Like, as a beverage?"

"There's no food."

"You just said you were eating chicken!"


....<----(that's me again, walking back to my computer)

"Dear Brother Mark: Please find me a goddamn place to live, and soon. The Mad Hatter has finally gone 'round the bend. Love, your sister, Alice."

The End

Thursday, September 18, 2008

color me.... looking, looking....

For a new home....

not a blog home...

a real, honest-to-God home. a place to live. a place to lay my head. a place to heal.

A place to be Miss Anne Derstood.


A place to be melodyann....

It's time....

time to fly...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Raising Aristotle... (Part One)

I have a story to tell. Read on....

Thing 1 calls me, out of the blue, the other day...

"Mom," she says, "I'm not sure I want to go to law school. I've just been so upset, because I know it's what I've planned for so long, and I owe student loans and shit, but I just don't think I want to be a lawyer! I shouldn't pursue a career that isn't going to make me happy!"

My first thought was, Oh God help me Jesus, she's wanting to get married. I'll fucking KILL her.

"Wha-What are you wanting to do?" I manage to choke out, dreading the words I know are coming. And I'm going to have to fly all the way to Italy to kill that little fucker she's wanting to marry. Shit. I don't have enough money to fly to Italy. I don't have TIME for this. I'm getting more angry by the SECOND.

"I think I want to get my master's in Philosophy..." she says.




Relief pours over my body in waves. She DOESN'T want to get married! She's not leaving the country in a fit of passion and moving halfway around the world where I can't get to her! Oh, thank you God! Thank you, tiny little eight pound eight ounce baby Jesus!! But wait, what was that she said? She wants to get WHAT?

"Thing 1, what the FUCK did you just say to me?" I demand.

Immediately, she becomes defensive, as if I had said something BAD to her!

"Mom! Goddamnit! Just listen to me! You want me to be happy, don't you? You want my life to have meaning? I don't WANT to be an attorney anymore, I'm so STRESSED!"

"But... but... but... what the hell are you going to do with a degree in PHILOSOPHY? What CAN you do with a degree in philosophy, THINK?"

"Goddamn sonofabitch," says Thing 1, ever eloquent. The degree of her cursing and the apparent LOWERING of her intellect is directly proportionate to how pissed she currently is at me. "You can do LOTS of things with a degree in philosophy! Lots and lots of Goddamned things!"

"Name one then! If there are that many, just name ONE!"

This, then, is when she begins to lose her HUMANITY, and she begins to GROWL at me. "Well, I can't Goddamn Mother-Fuck-Ing THINK of one right now, but there. ARE. LOTS. OF. GODDAMNED. THINGS!"

Her voice is so deep, and the growl so completely GUTTERAL, that I pause for a moment to wonder if this is how it would be to talk to a dog... And wouldn't it be interesting if Vincent-the-Saving-Dog could talk to me? A conversation with Benny (don't ask... it's a nickname... try saying "Here, Vincent-the-Saving-Dog! fifty times a day and see how long it takes you to find a nickname) begins playing through my head:

"Benny! You're talking! Incredible! Say something to me!"

And Benny would say: "Something TO me! Ha. Haha. Waka, waka waka!"

"Benny, this is amazing! There is so much I want to SAY to you! But first, I have to know... you DO love me as much as I love you, don't you?"

"What, are you KIDDING me, here? I follow you from room to room, sleep beside your bed, lick your face when you cry, starve myself when you're gone, and stand perfectly STILL while you cut clumps of hair off my WEINER, and you want to know if I freakin' LOVE YOU? No, it was always about the KIBBLE, baby!"

"Oh, Benny!" I say as I throw my arms around him... "You DO love me! You DO!"

"Mom! MOM! Goddamnit Mom!" Benny screeches in my ear... But... But wait. Benny wouldn't screech in my ear! He LOVES me!

"Goddamn MOTHERFUCKER! I'm hanging up this Goddamn phone, because YOU never listen! Because you don't CARE!"


It's HER.

The Spawn.

"I am SO listening," I shout. "I AM!"

"Well, what did I just say, then?" she shouts in my ear.

"You said I never LISTEN! You said I dont CARE! Which is a complete and total lie!"

"Before that! What the motherfucking hell did I say before that! When you weren't Goddamn LISTENING TO ME?" she growls at me again.

Oh, I am fucking getting tired of this. So, I do what I always do in this situation. Because, believe me, we have this situation a LOT.

I hang up.


Sweet, sweet silence. The sound of peace. The sound of nothing....

And any moment now she will call back, and she will apologize... and I will pout a little, but ultimately I will forgive her, because she is my baby, and even though she is some kind of weirdo freak with the gutteral language and the growling... she is still MINE.



Yep. Any moment now, she'll call back. Maybe I won't even pout this time...












I look at my phone, check to make sure it hasn't died. But no. Phone's good.



And she doesn't call back.

She. Doesn't. Call. Back.

I flirt with the notion of calling HER, but decide to wait. I'm at work, she's probably on her way to class, I'm sure she will call later. She can't just fucking change her whole life PLAN without discussing it with me. She'll call.

Except she doesn't.

It's been a week.

It's been a fucking week.

She called me one time, responding to a text I sent her about Anny-Banany (the cleaning lady, and believe me, we will discuss THAT shit in another post) and when I said to her, "Thing 1, I need to talk to you about these decisions you are making," she said, "I cannot talk to you about this," and hung up on ME.

I have been thrown out of the loop.

And I don't like it, not even one little bit.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

She's all that and a poet, too....

loneliness is a warm, iridescent mist

tiny drops of infinite beauty

so beautiful to see, they cover me...

i lift my face to let the warmth pour over me

and down, around, and through me, filling me...

tiny drops of infinite beauty

they cover me.

loneliness is a cold, cold bitter wind

a frozen breath of used-to-be

so sad to see, it blows through me

i turn my back and feel it pushing me...

and pulling, twisting, turning, tossing me..

a frozen breath of used-to-be

it blows through me...

loneliness is a thick, dark emptiness

a swirling, slithering black infinity

so terrible to see, it clings to me...

i raise my arms and try to breathe

it fills my eyes, my nose, my throat; it's choking me

a swirling, slithering black infinity

it clings to me...

it's killing me

~Miss Anne Derstood~

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Thirty-Fourteen Things....

In honor (or perhaps in horror) of the fact that I will soon be thirty-fourteen, and doesn't that just sound BETTER than forty-four?, here are a few things you may or may not know about me--

1. I was born on November 8, 1964.

2. I was born in Chicago, IL. I've never been back there, but it's one of the things on my list of "Places I'd Like to See Before I Die of Fatness."

3. I learned to read when I was four years old. I didn't go to kindergarten. My brother Mark taught me to read. I never read kid's books. Except for the Bobbsey Twins. I sooo had the hots for Burt.

4. No books were ever off limits for me. I've never made any be off limits to my children either.

5. I love words. I love to read them, I love to speak them, write them, sing them, and listen to them spoken to me. I love to manipulate them into something that, hopefully, says something people like to hear.

6. I have opinions, but I don't think I'm pushy. I am a firm believer in the "let's agree to disagree" mindset.

7. I have a pink-puffy-hearted love for scrambled egg sandwiches with ketchup.

8. I have changed so much during my lifetime that I often don't have any idea who I am anymore. Not all the changes are bad. Most of them are not good.

9. I have a terrific need to have someone in my life who ADMIRES me. This is often in direct conflict with my husband's need to have NO ONE in my life who admires me. And this might be due to the fact that I'd rather the person admiring me be a member of the male population. I can't help it, I like men. I like it when they like me. So sue me. Or... you know... divorce me.

10. Currently, my favorite television shows are Prison Break and House. I am also diggin' Bones. haha. I made a funny.

11. I like puzzles and word games, and by LIKE I mean that I am obsessed to the point of OCD about them. I am very good at Word Twist... aren't I, Janet? hehe I have several Sudoku books strewn about the house and my office, so that I am never more than four or five feet away from a puzzle, should the need to place numbers in boxes arise. And it does, more often than you know.

12. The safest place in the world for me is with Mitch and Miss Katie. My first instinct, when things get bad, is to run to them. Since the whole DIVORCE thing came up, they've BOTH called me to remind me I am welcome. My safe place is ready for me, whenever I need it.

13. My mother died of brain cancer 18 years ago this November 22. I am not "over" her death yet. I don't think I ever will be. However, something inside of me let go of something this year, because I do not feel that same terrible, horrible ache that always fills me in the fall of the year. For that, I am eternally grateful.

14. I am scared of moths. And Jell-0.

15. Janet reminds me so much of my mother sometimes that I get all misty-eyed. Except that she says Fuck alot. I believe God sent her to me. It ALMOST makes me not mad at Him anymore. Almost.

16. I have a raging, pitch-black fear of death. And of dying alone. And of my children finding me alone, and dead.

17. I have a coffee mug that says, "I see STUPID people." It is my favorite mug. One of my favorite fantasies is of me, drinking poison, from my "I see STUPID people" mug. It never fails to make me smile.

18. I am not vain in any way. Except sometimes, about my hair. I can't help it. I've got great hair.

19. My favorite perfume is Princess, by Vera Wang. Mitch and Kate bought it for me for Christmas. Dear Mitch and Kate: I need more. I have about four sprays left. K, thx, bye. Love, Mel.

20. I am not political. I do not vote. I do not care. I am a registered Republican only because it drove my father-in-law batshit crazy. I miss my father-in-law.

21. I want to learn sign language.

22. I have committed many sins in my lifetime. I have forgiven myself for most of them. I am only human. I will probably commit many more before I die. Of FATNESS.

23. I do not like green eggs and ham. I know this, because I ordered it from IHOP once. Eggs and ham should never be green, that's all I'm sayin'.

24. I do love pancakes. And how. Hence, the terrible FATNESS. I think people who tear their pancakes into little strips and DUNK them in syrup should be drawn and quartered. I will not mention any names, Thing 1 and Thing 2.

25. I am a fairly good cook. This was not always so. I used to be PROUD of my ability to NOT BE a good cook. I used to brag that if it didn't come in a can, a box, or a bag, we wouldn't be serving it at MY house.

26. That was before my mother got sick. I learned to cook for her. She didn't like things that came from cans, boxes, or bags.

27. I now make the world's BEST cornbread. I should be getting my award from the WORLD anyday now...

28. I miss having acrylic nails. I miss having manicures and pedicures. I miss getting MASSAGES. If my husband hadn't met my nail guy and realized he wasn't gay AFTER ALL, I would still be getting my manicures, pedicures and massages. Dammit.

29. Come to think of it, I REALLY REALLY want my nails back. Dear Mitch and Kate: My birthday is coming soon. I really, really want fingernails. K, thx, bye. Love, Mel.

30. I used to be afraid to drive. That is because Husband told me I would never make it anywhere alive. I proved him wrong by driving to Georgia. haha, Husband. You forgot that I LAUGH in the face of adversity.

31. I miss my daddy. I want to go see him, but I have no vacation days left. Damn, and double damn.

32. I just ordered a copy of the movie Bad Ronald. If it doesn't scare the shit out of me, I want my money back.

33. I have a book fetish. I have hundreds of books. I have not read all of them. I keep buying more. I will not part with even one. Husband hates them. I don't care. He hates me too. I still don't care.

34. I don't like people, as a general rule.

35. I really like having general rules.

36. If I could live anywhere, anywhere in the world that I wanted to live, I would live in North Carolina, near the ocean.

37. I truly hate and despise West Virginia.

38. I do not read the news. Nor do I listen to it on TV or Radio. It depresses me.

39. I believe in God. I am just currently mad at Him.

30-10. Another of my favorite daydreams is to go on a nationwide vacation, visiting blogging friends in every state. If I ever win the lottery, or inherit a buttload of money, I'm going to do that.

30-11. I have an ache inside where Luann used to be. I miss her. I miss talking to her. I miss her "sigh"-ing at me. Dammit.

30-12. I want a new camera. I don't even know WHERE my old one is. Probably Anna-Banana stole it to take naked pictures of herself to give to Husband.

30-13. I wish he'd marry her.

30-14. The person who said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself" obviously never met Husband. Or, never had a brother who claimed to put bb's in his cereal. I'm just sayin'.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

In the face of ADVERSITY....

UPDATE: I found this in my drafts this morning, and wondered WHY IN THE HELL DID I NOT POST THIS? And then I remembered... Oh yeah, this was JUST before Papaw died.... So, here for your perusal, is further proof of my vast and superior bravery in the face of ADVERSITY...

So, I wake up yesterday morning, happy as a bug in a rug...

Ok, not so much HAPPY as, say, NOT MISERABLE... which is a mighty improvement if I do say so myself. And I do.

I spend my time packratting on Facebook, and beating the SHIT out of Janet at WordTwist, (*note to Jenni* I want a REMATCH!!) and then I go get ready for work. All is well in my world.

And then I go to get some ice out of the freezer, and notice that ALL OF THE ICE SEEMS TO BE MELTING.


This can't be good.


I take a deep breath and decide that I will not let ADVERSITY rule me, thank you very much. Because I have a secret weapon. I have ANNA. The wonder cleaner. HA! I laugh in the face of adversity!! I finish getting ready, write a note to Anna that says, "Dear Anna, The fridge seems to be dying. Please take everything out and move it to the fridge in the garage. Thank you."

And off I go to work.

When I get to work, I remember that Husband has the ONLY REMOTE CONTROL for the garage, because apparently I cannot be trusted in a giant room full of tools and old cars, and I'm going to need to make arrangements for Anna to get the remote.

Not a problem. I LAUGH in the face of adversity, right? HAHA, adversity... HAHA.

I call Husband and tell him I will send Anna by to pick up the remote, because the fridge is dying. And we have a mini-conversation:

Husband: How do you know the fridge is dying?

Me: It left a suicide note.

Husband: What?

Me: Never mind. I know it is dying because everything in the freezer is MELTING.

Husband: Did you check to see if it's plugged up?

Me: Gosh, I never thought of that! Gee, I bet that's the problem! No, you doink, I didn't check to see if it's plugged up! The lights are working. The FAN is working.

Husband: Did you check the controls? Maybe somebody screwed with the controls.

Me: Ooops, I forgot to tell you, I got bored last night and decided to fuck with the fridge controls, just to see what would happen. Jesus. Are you trying to tell me you don't think I have enough sense to know when the FUCKING refrigerator is DYING?

Husband: Maybe the freezer door wasn't shut tight.


Husband: Ok, call Anna, and tell her to come get the remote.

I slam down the phone. Ok, not really because I was on my cell, but I SLAMMED my finger on that END button, let me tell you...


And then I realized I don't have Anna's number.




I call Husband back and tell him I don't know Anna's number. And we have THIS conversation:

Husband: um.... it's 555... 29999.

Me: That's too many numbers.

Husband: What?

Me: That's too many numbers! You said the last FOUR numbers were 29999.

Husband: Right. 29999.

Me: That's 5.

Husband: What the hell are you talking about? There's no 5. It's 29999.

Me: My God, this is like a Vaudeville act. A bad one.

Husband: Goddammit, I don't have TIME for this. I'm WORKING.

Me: As opposed to me, who is in a TALENT CONTEST today, here in my office.

Me: Listen, you gave me too many numbers. What are the last FOUR fucking numbers of her phone number? And why the fuck do you know her number anyway?

Husband: This is ridiculous. The first one is a TWO. The rest are nines. I gotta go, bye.



I spend ONE minute contemplating whether I should call him back and hang up on HIM, because HE KNOWS I HATE IT WHEN HE HANGS UP FIRST.

Then I spend ONE minute contemplating why the fuck my husband knows the CELL phone number of our cleaning lady when *I* don't know it, and I'm a number FREAK.

Then I remember that I LAUGH in the face of adversity, HAHAHAHA.

And I call Anna.


Who is in Florida.


Of course! Where ELSE would she be?


Our office manager came into my office when I started to beat myself in the head screaming, "I LAUGH in the face of ADVERSITY!!!!"

She tells me to take the day off, go home, fix the problem, rest, rejuvenate my soul, and come back bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow. She already cleared it with the boss. Go. GO!

So, I do....

I drive to Husband's work to get the remote. He has no choice but to give it to me, because the FRIDGE is dying. I make a mental note to move some of his tools around and leave BABY footprints with the side of my fist in the dust on the floor in front of his bathroom. (have you ever done that? the baby footprint thing? I will take a picture later and show you. It's AWESOME.)

And then I drive home.


Where I discover that I am locked out of the house. Because ANNA has my key.


And Anna is in Florida.




So I walk to the back of the house, where we keep the SPARE key.


Only it's not there.


And then I remember that it's not there, on account of it's laying on my DESK in the LIVING ROOM, because I didn't take it back LAST WEEK when I got locked out of the house.


I start to giggle.


And then I remember that Thing 2 has a key! HAHAHAHA, adversity, HAHAHAHA!!!

I drive to the high school, where Thing 2 is currently running laps in the hot sun on the parking lot of the high school. Which she is NOT supposed to be doing, because of the HEADACHES.

I get her attention and tell her to come over to my car. And we have THIS conversation:

Me: Why are you running?

Thing 2: Because everyone else is running.

Me: If everyone else ran over the side of a mountain, would you do that too?

Thing 2: Mom, why are you here?

Me: You are not supposed to be running! Do I need to see Mr. Band Director and tell him you are not to run?

Thing 2: Mom, don't you dare embarrass me. Why are you here?

Me: Do you have a headache?

Thing 2: Yeah.

Me: *sigh*

Me: I need your key to the house. I am locked out. The fridge is dying.

Thing 2: Maybe it's unplugged.


Thing 2: They are locked in the bandroom. I can't get to them til we go inside.


Thing 2: Mom! Stop it! What's wrong with you? Hang on, I just remembered I left them in my backpack, hang on I'll get them. Stop laughing, you're embarrassing me!!

Me: (whispering) I LAUGH in the face of adversity...

So, I get the key, and I go home. And I walk into my house, and it's hot. Oh God, it's so hot in here and I know I have to empty that damn refrigerator all by myself. So, of course the first thing I do is sit down and smoke a cigarette.

Many trips to the garage, many near heart attacks, many "Fuck YOU adversity"'s later, I stand, my hair wringing wet, my face red, my ample bosom heaving, and I realize these truths:

I HATE my refrigerator.

I HATE Anna.

I am the fucking QUEEN of Adversity.

I have only thus far cleaned out the freezer. I still have much to do.

I need a nap.

Really, there's only one thing I can do next. Isn't there? I smoke a cigarette. Then I take a nap. Then, when Thing 2 walks through the front door, I get up and announce, "Take the rest of the stuff out to the garage and put it in the fridge out there. I'm not feeling good."

Ha HA, adversity. Ha HA...

You are no match for Miss Anne....

Monday, September 1, 2008

Suffering fools uneasily....

I've got a real problem with stupid people. I don't mean the kind of person who has a legitimate learning disability. I don't mean developmentally disabled people.

What I mean is "educated" people (and I use that term LOOSELY) who have no fucking idea how stupid they are....

The kind of person, who, when you say to them, "Your father's GODDAMN will HAS to be probated, you pig-fucking hillbilly!" (sans, of course, the words Goddamn, pig-fucking, and hillbilly), he says, "NUH-UH! HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO MOM!! It's all HERS!!"




The kind of person who stands at the dinner table and says, "Yeah, I hate niggers, they took away all my rights!"

And you say, "Oh for the love of all things tiny, holy, and Jesus-like. What rights have you lost because of ANYONE?"

And he says, "Just you wait. They'll take yours too, Missy."

And you say, "HA! I laugh at your face! Your brother-in-law already took away all mine."




I live on an idiot farm. And the idiots have run amok....


So, I go to the doctor on Friday and I'm sitting on the exam room table, naked as the day I was born, only many, many pounds larger, when my doctor walks in.

"Good morning, Miss Anne, how are you?" he says in his caring doctor voice.

And I promptly burst into tears. "Waaaaah! My head hurts! It's been hurting for weeks! My eyeballs are trying to pop themselves out of my eyes, my brain is trying to ooze out my ears, my husband wants to divorce me, my father-in-law just died, my kids are complete bitches, and I miss my mother! Waaaaah!"

He sits back in his chair and says, "Tell me about the headache..."

You gotta love a doctor who can sift through that kind of shit-storm.

Apparently, I now have high-blood pressure. But my doctor thinks it COULD be due to stress. (Um... DUH?) And so I have to be rechecked in 3 weeks. At that time, if it's still high, I will have to go on blood pressure meds.

Thing 1 made it home safely, and so did my niece, who I adore. Friday was a good, good day, with the exception of the aforementioned doctor appointment.

Saturday was a whole 'nother story....

Which I don't actually care to talk about, except to say, I do not understand how making myself into a doormat for my children could created in them such disdain and utter contempt. Most of the time, I'm so proud of my girls and their wonderful senses of humor, their fabulous minds, their sweetness and beautiful spirits. However, at times, (possibly it's the full moon?) they turn into raving BITCHES, whom I could cheerfully run over with my car.

And so it was on Saturday, when I spent a good part of the day in the cemetery, boo-hoo-ing like a hobo.

And so it was on Sunday morning, when I had been yelled at, in no particular order, by the husband, the eldest daughter, the youngest daughter. Even the fucking dogs had barked meanly at me.

And I cried again.

And my head hurt. Sweet Crispy Jeebus, I can't even describe to you the pain. I was ready to hang it up, give up the ghost, buy the farm, and blah-blah-blah....

I can't sleep. I wake up approximately every two hours... go pee. Stand an moan at the sonic boom and it's aftershock going on inside my head. Smoke a cigarette. Check my email. Smoke again. Go back to bed. Spend an hour trying to get to sleep. Do it all again 2 hours later.

My she wolves and my husband had me in tears before nine o'clock this morning.

I determined to pack my shit TODAY, and move into my office this evening. My boss will be gone for the next two weeks, so maybe I could get some rest?

Then I thought, "No. I'll go to the only place where I can get REAL rest. Where else on earth would I even consider going except to Mitch?"

And then I remembered that I have a job. A job where I have no more vacation days. And a bankruptcy sitting on my desk that will require at least a week to finish.

And then I began to feel trapped, like a rat. And I began to feel like I was drowning. And so I did the only thing I know to do under such circumstances. I went back to bed.

I truly am at a loss here. I go out of my way to try to do EVERYTHING anyone asks of me, even the HUSBAND, to keep things peaceful and running smoothly. I've spent myself into a pool of debt that resembles the mighty Mississippi trying to keep up with what my girls want. I make phone calls for them. I make appointments for them. I fix things that are broken, I step into situations they can't (or, more typically, WON'T) handle. In short, I'm busting my fat ass trying to please everyone in my family.

And in return, they despise me.

My daughter said she couldn't STAND me. My daughter said I was WORTHLESS and USELESS and a LIAR.

My husband said he wants me OUT, but wait, maybe not, but yeah, get the fuck out of here, but wait, if you will STOP fucking around with the MEN you can stay, but no, I can't forgive you, just leave.... But you go with nothing and I will never EVER be able to let you be happy. Don't try to date anyone, don't try to fall in love, don't try to have FRIENDS. Because I will ruin it, I will ruin YOU, I will ruin any chance you have at happiness. But I probably won't kill you.

My friends say Go! Get out of that madhouse! You are worth more than that! You deserve a life! You deserve to be happy! We support you!

My family says, "Come to us! We love you! We will help you, comfort you, take care of you, let you rest. We LOVE you!"

My brain tells me, "If you don't do SOMETHING, you are going to die. You are going to STROKE the fuck OUT, and dying is not something that you can fix, Miss Fix-it."

And my heart... my poor broken, weary, terrified, shrunken heart says to me, "I don't care what you do, but don't hurt me anymore...."




I wasn't going to do this today. I had a snappy, perky post all ready about HOW I CANNOT TOLERATE BUT JUST SO MUCH STUPIDITY, JUST SO MANY FOOLS. It would have made you smile. It could have elicited a quirky little chuckle. It probably would have made you laugh till you spit some sort of food or liquid onto the face of your computer screen. It most assuredly would have made you pee a little.

But apparently, I am the fool here. I am the moron frozen in indecision. I am the idiot with a sign on her back that says, "Please, I"m not down yet, go ahead and kick me."




I'm going back to bed... Happy Labor Day, Internets....

Miss Anne would love you, if she had it in her....

Thursday, August 28, 2008

A note from Miss Anne:

Dear Internets:

I gotta tell you, I WANT to write... I want to be cute and funny and entertaining. But I got NOTHING. I have sat here for DAYS, started fifty bazillion different posts, and then thought to myself, "Self, this sucks. Delete this motherfucker."

And you guys KNOW how I love to delete things...

So, I'm at a loss....

I feel so disconnected from the blog world. I go by your blogs, whether I comment or not, and believe me, I TRY to comment on all the ones I read, and I see you are writing, and life is HAPPENING to you, and....

I feel like I have been cryogenically frozen...

Help me out guys. Give me a topic to write about. Ask me a question. Leave a MEAN anonymous comment, so I have something to get PISSED about. (Mitchell, this does not mean you, and I will KNOW if you leave a mean comment, and I will tell Kate.)

Ask me for advice. It's free. Ask me for a recipe. Hell, I'm a fairly good cook. Ask me about a book, or a song, or....

Hell, I don't care what you say, or what you ask, I will respond to it. Otherwise, I'm going to write a post on how many bottles of shampoo are in my shower (8), how many books I own (43 million) or how long my leg hairs are (long enough to BRAID). I'll be forced to write about how many cigarette butts are in the ashtray beside my computer (36, but I'm working on another one, as I write this... PUFF, PUFF, BLOOOOW).

I'll tell you why I dry off with a hair dryer after my shower (because I believe towels just smear dead skin cells around on your skin...); How many times I gag when I brush my teeth (depends on how many times I try to brush my tongue); or why there is a HUGE oily stain on the leg of my favorite jeans (think dark movie theater... think popcorn... think EXTRA butter); or how many steps it takes me to get from my car to my office (73..).

Save me from myself. Save yourselves from everlasting ennui!! Help me escape from the razor toothed, ooze dripping, hot breathed jaws of writers block...


Miss Anne

Monday, August 25, 2008


The movie was "Bad Ronald." How awesome that I found it!! And it was a 1974 TV Movie of the Week, so I was FREAKING 10 years old when I saw it!!

Ladies and gentlemen, that was nearly 34 years ago...

I need that movie...

What a terrific birthday present it would make for SOMEONE!! (and by someone, I mean ME)

Someone will SURELY get it for me!! (and by someone, I mean YOU)

Now, did anyone see "Let's Scare Jessica to Death...?"

Monday Morning Movie Trivia, among other things...

Ok, I'm going absolutely bat-shit crazy trying to find the name of a movie....

Remember when I asked you to help me find the name of that book about the little runaway girl and her imaginary friend, Squire Hemon Monk? And remember how you sucked ASS at helping me find it?

I'm hoping you'll do better this time... because I have faith in you, that's why!!

There was a movie on television, when I was young... It was about a boy, whose mother, (and I don't remember WHY) closed him off in some hiding space inside her house. Then she died. There were other people who moved into the house, and I remember the boy watching them through tiny little pinprick holes in the walls...

And that's all I can remember. I don't remember the end of the movie, or if anyone else died or was murdered. I was a little KID, donchaknow!

Help me find the title, so I can find the movie... or at least a synopsis of the movie.

I'm thinking of hiding myself inside THIS house... 'cause, you know... watching the Husband try to flirt with Anna-Banana should be good for some giggles....

I'm kidding.

The Husband couldn't flirt if you glued one of his eyes shut in a permanent wink...

Speaking of The Husband...

I haven't reported anything new here, because there hasn't been anything new to report. I'm still here... He still has not said he DOESN'T want a divorce. I'm still too poor to find an apartment. For the time being, we've called a truce of sorts, and everything is calm. If I could make that last until Thing 2 graduates in June, I'll do it. If not.... well, I AM still determined to make my life work, with OR without him.

It would be a lot fucking easier if I won the lottery.

Thing 1 is back at school, WITH HER CAR, no less!! She reports that she hasn't had a bit of trouble, which is astounding, in itself. She's supposed to come home for Labor Day, which fills me with the kind of fear that only the mother of a 21 year old child who is "driving challenged" can feel...

Thing 2 starts back to school on Wednesday. Which is a good thing, as her drumming has reached a freakin' fever pitch inside this house. I took her shopping last week, and bless her pea pickin' little heart, everything she picked out was either on clearance, or on a very good sale.

Mamaw said a very weird thing the other day, but I forgave her instantly, as my middle name is "For God's sake, her husband just died, let it GO already"...

I was getting ready to leave her house, and she mentioned that the Husband didn't come down there early to turn on the coffeepot. I said "I fixed coffee this morning, and he just drank mine." As I hugged her goodbye, (which used to be awkward, but I AM a hugger) she said into my ear: "You better stop that... he's MINE". "I know," I said, "and you can HAVE him. But I'm not going to stop making coffee. I need it to SURVIVE."

That's all that's happening in MY neck-o'-the-woods. How have YOU been?

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Free to Good Home...

One wife. Used for 24 years. Still has all own teeth. Can cook. Won't clean house or do windows. Has trashy mouth. Loves to read and will eat you out of house and home. Will make you laugh. May possibly make you crazy. Needs lots of love. Comes with a fair amount of baggage. Can suck a football through a water hose*. Is smart and has great smile. Has crazy little left eye.

*Just kidding about the football.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Here's an interesting tidbit:

He chose divorce.


What the fuck do I do now?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Let's all yuk it up, why don't we?

Because my middle name is "Give the people what the fuck they want," I give you these:

This is my "I am GROWLING, not preparing to say the word SHIT" picture. And also my "If I close BOTH eyes, you can't tell which one is LITTLE, can you, ya' FAT BASTARDS!!" picture.

This is my "I'm winking, even though it looks like I'm passing gas" picture. And also my "Fucking hell, even when I close my RIGHT eye, my left eye is LITTLE" picture.

This is my "oopsie! Bad haircut? Smile, anyway!" picture. And also my, "Some people's big boobs go all the way to their NECKS" picture.

This is my "does anyone love their readers more than me, to post this CRAP onLINE?" picture. And also, my "Fat people also have fat WRISTS" picture.

This is my "I STILL have fucking great hair, even if it's UGLY as SIN" picture. And also my, "Is it just me, or does my nose take up over half my face?" picture.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

If you can't say something nice....

Wonder what it means when you get a really, REALLY shitty haircut... and you come home almost in tears... and you text a friend and say, OHMYGAWD IT'S A FUCKING DISASTER!!!

And then that friend says, "It can't be that bad, let me see it..." and so you take a picture and believe me, it IS that bad... and you send the picture... and your friend says...






Yeah, that's what *I* thought it meant too...

~woe is miss anne~

Monday, August 11, 2008

Just once, I'd like to LOVE Mondays....

So, here it is Monday again, and I'm kind of blah.....

I haven't blogged, haven't visited any blogs, haven't really even THOUGHT about blogging. I suck, I know.

Here's what's happening in MY neck o' the woods:

I have a horrible headache, which started yesterday morning at 10:30 a.m., and which REFUSES to acknowledge the SHITLOAD of tylenol that I've been feeding it. These are the times when it's fun to sleep alot.... visions of Lortab dancing in my head.

It's lonely at mamaw's house. We've been down there daily, either for breakfast or dinner, always trying to be cheerful, without being totally fake. She seems to be doing ok, though I suspect it's an act. However, I feel that if she cares enough to ACT for us, it's a positive sign.

Tomorrow, I shall be getting a brand new floor in my kitchen, which fills me with joy and hope. You would have to know what my CURRENT disgusting floor looks like to truly understand my joy. My hope is that I will continue to give a shit about my house and put forth that small effort to maintain the weekly cleaning that Anna-Banana gives it. At some point, after Vincent-the-saving-dog gives up the ghost, we will also be replacing the carpet in the living room, and I am DETERMINED to add a new sofa and chair. I've already picked it out, and bargained with husband for it. If he buys the carpet (which, by the way is the most expensive carpet you have EVER seen) I will buy the sofa. And it's fucking AWESOME, the sofa. I am in LOVE with it.

I have been a model wife, for the most part. I say for the most part, because I am still me, you understand. However, I have tried to minimize that fact by running errands, cleaning house, cooking, visiting with mamaw, and giving SEX when sex is requested. Believe me when I say that this is a HUGE big deal. I promised that I would work to become a good wife, and I will.


Nothing is being done, on the part of Husband, in reciprocation. I don't mean in a sexual way. He's more than willing to do ANY freaky thing imaginable. And he works hard, and provides for us well. But he is FAILING me, nonetheless. I've tried talking to him about it, but I'm not going to allow myself to sound like a shrew. He just lost his father. I did however, make my feelings known. I reminded him that I AM STILL HERE, lest he forget, and his inability to make a decision regarding our future is wearing thin.

I put it simply: "I am trying to make you happy. I am doing the things that I know you want me to do, long before you have to ask me to do them. If you want to keep me here, it is important that you show me, in some small way, that my happiness means something to you, too. If you don't want to keep me here, let's make it as painless as possible, and part in a way that doesn't leave too many scars..."

The funny thing is, I don't think he likes the changes in me, as much as he thought he would. I think he liked it better when I was AFRAID of my future, when he could COMPLAIN about the time I spent on the computer, and about the house, and about every other way in which I FAILED HIM. He doesn't like to see strength in me.

I am determined that my life from here on out have some MEANING. To that end, I will pursue some kind of volunteer work. The two things I have thought about most are Hospice, and the assisted living home that papaw worked so devotedly for. I'm much more interested in giving my time at the assisted living home, in whatever capacity they will accept. This is important to me because I feel (and trust me, rightly so) that my life up to this point has been selfish and self serving. I NEED to give something back.

I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: I NEED A NEW HOBBY. Someone suggested scrapbooking, and, though I ADORE you for caring enough to make the suggestion, I'd rather a rattlesnake sink his fangs into the whites of my EYE and fill me with venom than take up scrapbooking. Likewise knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, sewing, quilting or any other needle-related thing. I can't draw or paint. I am not interested in making jewelry. There HAS to be something I can do. Put your thinking caps on and leave me some suggestions. I IMPLORE you. With love, of course.

I am finishing up Breaking Dawn, and find it to be the most putrid, chock-full-o-bull-shit piece of literature I have ever perused. I am almost ashamed to be reading it. Does anyone else share my view of this literary disaster? I know you do, Janet. Anyone else?

Thing 1 will go back to school this weekend. Again, my heart will go with her. Thing 2 has been in band camp since July 29. Every week day, 8:00 a.m. till 2:00 p.m. Trust me when I say that being hot and tired does NOTHING for Thing 2's mood. She's been a complete BITCH since band camp started. It gets better, I keep promising myself. Myself sees no sign of that yet, but is ever hopeful.

And now I'm off to get ready for yet another week of back-breaking work. Ha. I mean, sitting on my big butt and dealing with the scum of the earth... Did I mention I HATE Social Security? How about Bankruptcy? Wills? Estates? I hate them all......

Have a great week, internets... and remember, Miss Anne fucking loves you...

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

A Note to myself...

Dear Self:

Just a few things to remember, the next time someone dies.

1. For a woman of SIZE, wearing 3 inch heels to a wake is NOT a good idea, even if you paid only $12.50 for them on clearance, and even if they look AMAZING with your black pants suit.

2. The next time you have to be last in the bathroom to fix your hair, and it's hot, throw something BIG and SHARP at the child you gave BIRTH to who says, "Dude, did you fix your hair? It's lookin' kind of haggard..."

3. Waterproof mascara was created for a REASON.

4. Remind your children that saying SHIT, PISS, DAMN IT, or SON OF A BITCH are no-no's in church. HELL is ok, though, if you're talking about a place. GOD should only be said if you are praying to Him, and CHRIST ON A CRUTCH is almost certainly taboo in most churches. If they say those words anyway, sit far away from them, so as not to be struck by the lightening that God will surely send down upon them.

5. If the sister-in-law that you adore tells you that you have raccoon eyes, do NOT tell her she has a booger in her nose. She is distraught and trying to help. Oh, and refer to number 3 re: the raccoon eyes.

6. If someone really old takes your hand and says, "And who are you, dear?" It is NOT polite to squeal, "Ohmigawd, you can SEE me?"

7. Voices carry in church. So it's probably not a good idea to stand up and announce, "I have to PEE like a RACEHORSE."

8. It is impolite to say that your husband's cousin is "as fucked up as a soup sandwich"... especially if you are talking to her sister.

9. People will look at you funny if you announce, "Ativan in my car, everyone! Party time!"

10. It is probably not acceptable to take off the offending 3" heels, sling 'em over your shoulder, and announce, "Let's blow this joint, I need some Starbucks!"

Sometimes, you have to laugh in order to stop crying...

Monday, August 4, 2008

Rest in peace, Papaw...

I will surely miss you...


Monday, July 28, 2008

The Future of Miss Anne Derstood....

Dear Internets:

You probably haven't noticed lately, because I am a MASTER at hiding my feelings, but I've been in a bit of a funk... Yes! It's true!

I have had my feelings hurt, my heart broken, my toes stepped on, my civil liberties denied, and my aura disturbed.

BUT... and you will be interested to know this, so pay attention...


And that new wind is called "SELF-RESPECT".

I won't go into any messy details about what is in the past. Because my new middle name is, "LET WHAT IS IN THE PAST BE BURIED AND STAY BURIED FOREVER AND EVER, AMEN."

Here are some things I've been thinking and doing... and saying:

1. I have taken a much more active role in the care of my father-in-law. I thought this would bring about hurt that I couldn't even imagine, but the exact opposite is true. I feel a sense of purpose. I feel needed. I feel that in some way, I am honoring the memory of my mother, by sharing what I know, and what I can do, with my husband's family. And they are beginning to rely on me. Even my husband. Believe it. Or not. It's true.

2. I am a perfectly decent human being and I do not deserve to be treated badly. By anyone. For any reason. And anyone who KNOWINGLY hurts me, FOR NO DISCERNIBLE REASON, is beneath me. And does not deserve to be called my friend.

3. I'm tired of feeling like I don't measure up. Fuck that. I DO measure up. I'm an intelligent, considerate, sensitive forty-something woman. I have a good sense of humor. I'm kind. I don't give anybody any shit, and I don't want to take any in return. I'm not beautiful, but neither do people hide their eyes when I walk by. I'm overweight, but who give a big shit? I don't have to impress anyone. When I lose weight, it will be to improve my chances for a longer life, not to make anyone fall madly in love with me.

4. When my husband's father leaves this world, my husband has a big decision to make. If he wants to stay married to me, I will work my ass off to make a good marriage with him. And in return, I expect him to climb off my ass and treat me as his WIFE, his equal. I don't have to have a fairy tale love, but I need a dash of RESPECT. Find out what it means to me, baby. And if he wants a divorce, then I have no desire to take anything from him that doesn't already belong to me. I will not fight him for anything. A divorce will be hard on me. Mentally, and financially. But I am MUCH stronger than I have ever given myself credit for being, and I have family and friends who LOVE me, and will stand by me and support me.

5. I do not need ANYONE, and most importantly, ANY MAN, to complete me. I will not be complete until I die. Until then, *I* am in charge of my happiness, my success, my failure, and the everyday "whole-ness" that I may or may not feel. What happens to me, for me, and WITH me is no one else's business, no one else's problem, and no one else's responsibility but my own. I am now in charge of ME.

6. I have a lot of faults... I see them, recognize them for what they are, and ACCEPT them: I am impatient. I tend toward grouchy. I have a filthy mouth. I am lazy. And yes, I have an inferiority complex as big as the great state of TEXAS. These faults are MINE and mine alone, and it is and will be my responsibility to change them, eradicate them, or lovingly cherish them as I SEE FIT.

7. I had a WONDERFUL mother. But she is dead. She's been gone for nearly 18 years. It's time to let go. Holding onto the pain and the loss and the sadness does not honor her memory. And this is not a path she would have chosen for me. It is time for me to love and honor the LIVING. My family. My friends. Myself. I will share the memories of her that I have from time to time. I will NOT wallow in my grief any longer.

8. It's time I had a hobby. And that hobby can NOT be the internet. Because when my hobby is the internet, there is trouble galore in my life. I don't know what my hobby will be. I will choose it carefully, because I plan to THROW myself into it with passion very, very soon. For the record, my hobby will not be illegal, immoral, or unethical. Therefore, lesbian crack whore has been taken out of the list of possible choices. Cheating wife-whore has likewise been eliminated.

9. I will continue to write in my blog. Those of you who choose to stay for the end credits, I welcome you with open arms. You will see a new and improved Miss Anne emerging from the ashes, if my will and my resolve prove to be as strong as my hope and desire.

10. Finally, I want to thank someone. And that someone is Janet, the mother of all best-friends, who taught me that I am worthy of her friendship (even if I'm STILL not wholly convinced..) Janet has put up with more bullshit, more snot-flying, screaming, tearful rants than anyone should ever have to put up with, and STILL she loves me. Go figure. God sent her straight to me. And I humbly thank Him for it.

Fasten your seatbelts, friends. It's gonna be a helluva ride....


Miss Anne Derstood

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Pity, Party of One? Your table is ready...

I am feeling some stress.

Jesus God, I am so angry I could fucking kill somebody.

I'm so sad I could lay down and cry for a week.

I'm so tired I can barely keep my damn head up.

I feel UTTERLY alone in this world.

I'll be back soon, when I have something GOOD to say... Till then I'm going into a self-induced Ativan haze.....

(By the way, I stole that title from Dory, who used it or something very close to it a while back. Isn't she cute?)

(Also, Thing 2's CT scan showed nothing glaringly obvious yesterday. We will get the full results tomorrow or Monday.)

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Just another day in paradise...

Thing 2 has to have a cat scan today...

She's been having bad headaches when she runs. This is not normal. Thing 2 is very active. She's been running for several months and the headaches only started a few weeks ago.

Her doctor wants to rule out aneurism, as there is a history of such on both sides of the family. Did I mention I am SICK with fear for my baby? I'm sure she's fine. I am. It's just that the word aneurism strikes fear into my heart.

In other news, papaw is much, much worse now. It breaks my heart anew each time I see him. He is now being treated by Hospice workers. Yesterday, a nurse evaluated and examined him for the first time. Her news was not good. She told husband and his sister that she would estimate he had maybe a month... two if they were lucky.

Lucky? That he might live another month... so weak he cannot stand alone... with mood swings and loss of appetite and almost total loss of motor function? That is LUCK?

My prayer is that he stays pain free as long as possible. My prayer is that my husband, and his sister, and his brother, and their friends and relatives don't become so worn out that they cannot care for him adequately. My prayer is that this doesn't drag out so long that they secretly wish for it to just be OVER, then swim in guilt for the traitorous thought.

Thing 1 does not come home from Germany for nearly two more weeks. I do not want her grandpa to die while she is gone. She won't be able to get back, and I don't want her to feel guilty for being there. Is that selfish of me? Probably. But my FIRST instincts are to protect my children from anything that hurts them.

I am counting the hours until she comes home. Then I remember that she will go back to school only a week later. Christ, I hate the thoughts of her leaving again. This time she will drive her car back to school. I don't even let myself THINK about how afraid THAT is going to make me. I can't handle any more worries at this present time.

I will worry about the car later. I will worry about her leaving later. Right now all I want to do is put my arms around her and breathe.

I learned a very important lesson last night. I can't write about it here, but suffice it to say that it hardened my heart somewhat, which was a thing I needed. I will say this, in our lives, friends come and go. To save ourselves hurt, we should let them go... when they go. You cannot hold onto something that is no longer there.

Words of supreme wisdom from Miss Anne... no?

Keep me and my girls in your thoughts today, internets....

Monday, July 21, 2008

Random thoughts I thunk over the weekend:

1. "I've got to get a second job, and get out of debt. If those fucking stores would stop putting things on SALE, I'd be ok."

2. "Spicy Guacamole Pringles are the SHIT."

3. "If I could win the lottery, I'd move to North Carolina and live out my days as a non-practicing lesbian bartender."

4. "I wish my fingernails were longer. And cleaner. And POLISHED."

5. "Man, I wish I had a pancake."

6. "Oh, you did NOT just tell me I can't have OREO Cakesters."

7. "When the FUCK does Prison Break come back on?"

8. "Christ, I don't wanna have to drive back to Maryland again."

9. "Dear Sweet Tiny Baby Lord Jesus: Please take care of my baby girl in Germany. Send plagues of pestilence on anyone who dares to hurt her. Amen."

10. "Wonder if he's gonna eat that whole fucking cheesecake by himself?"

11. "This cheesecake could use some cherry pie filling on top."

12. "So help me God, if you ask me to 'Play with your wiener', ONE more time, I will SNIP it in the BUD. Swear to God."

13. "Dear God: Please kill Anna so she will stop putting things where I don't want them to be. Or, make husband fall in love with her so SHE will have to 'play with his wiener'. Amen."

14. "Lord have mercy, God, your driving scares the living SHIT out of me. Jesus, take the wheel."

15. "The Lord is not going to 'call you on home' at this time, so please suck it up."

16. "Dammit, why can't curling be a summer Olympic event?"

17. "Damn right I make the best squash casserole around. And you'd better not forget it, Mister."

18. "I need a hobby. Wonder what I'd be good at?"

19. "Dear Our-Father-Who-Art-In-Heaven: I need to lose 100 pounds before Christmas. And quit smoking. And make 43,726 dollars. And get a Brazilian wax. Thank you in advance for attending to these matters. Your faithful servent. Amen."

20. "Oh, you may as well give it UP, fucker. I will ALWAYS be smarter than you. Game over."

Friday, July 18, 2008

You bought a WHAT?

So, recently, I went online and purchased a... um... well, a little something for myself. You know, a v-v-v-v... excuse me... a vi-vi-vi-vi.... er, an adult toy.

So why not? I'm an adult. I'm certainly able to make that decision, and make that PURCHASE... for myself.

OHMYGAWD, it was agonizing... Who knew there were so many of them?

It took me DAYS of going to a couple of different websites.... HOURS of deliberation... and finally, I was so discombobulated that I just said, FUCK IT, I'M GETTING THIS ONE...

Oh. Oh my. Oh sweet crispy jeebus, I made the right decision.

I call him The Purple People Eater. hehehe. Because I am 12.

So anyway, me and the PPE have become inseparable. Well, in a not so EWWW GOD, kind of way.

I told the husband...casually, that I had made such a purchase.

"You did? Why?" he asked.

That stumped me for a second. But then I came up with the perfect answer and said to him, "Because I wanted one."

I figured he'd be angry. I didn't CARE that he'd be angry, but I just figured he would. But he wasn't. Which surprised me.

And then about a week ago, he walked past me in the kitchen and said, "I bought a little something too."

Not realizing what the hell he was talking about I said, "What, a case of beer?" And then it dawned on me, and I said, "Ohhhhh. What did you get? huh? what, what?"

He looked like he was going to tell me. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And then he turned red. And said, "I'm not going to tell you. It's dumb. I.... never mind."

Well, you know what happened after that.... I followed him from room to room, nagging him incessantly... "What? What did you get? Why won't you tell me? C'mon, you know what I bought, tell me what you bought?"

But he wouldn't. He was embarrassed as hell, and he clammed up and wouldn't say another word.

Fast forward to this past Saturday, and he comes in the house with a box tucked under his arm. "What's that?" I asked him... "Did you find a way to buy BEER CAKES or something?"

And then it dawned on me. "Ohhhhh. Is that IT? What is it? Let me see it!!! C'mon, hand it over!"

And so he got embarrassed again, and said, "Stay away from me!"

And he locked it in his GUN CABINET.

So, of course you know what happened next....

I followed him from room to room, nagging him incessantly. This time, I decided to have a little more fun....

"Is it a vibrator?" I asked. He shook his head no. "Is it a cock ring? A vibrating cock ring? A penis sleeve?" I asked. His head shaking became violent. "Is it a penis extension? A red devil butt plug? A strap on for me?" I asked sweetly. "Is it Asian anal eggs? Ben Wa balls? A whip, a paddle or handcuffs? Nipple clamps?" His eyes were bulging out of his head at this point. He just stood and stared at me.

"Oh, please tell me you bought a squiggle sex probe, or a King Dong," I moaned.

"Who ARE you?" he whispered.


"I KNOW things," I blew him a kiss and walked away. Before I embarrassed MYSELF by laughing till I peed right there in front of him. The rest of that day, he stayed well away from me. I think I scared the shit out of him with my recently acquired ADULT TOY knowledge.

On Sunday morning, I was laying in the bed reading. I heard him lock the bedroom door. "Oh boy, here it comes," I thought.

"Ok, I'll let you see it now," he said. "But you have to promise not to laugh."

Of COURSE I promised. Of COURSE it was a big fat lie.

He handed me the box, and then pretended to ignore me.

I open the box slowly, carefully.... and then stare in confusion... I'm looking at something that looks like one of those cookie presses... What the fuck? I looked over at him and said, "Ok, it's KIND of a turn on that you want to make cookies, but why is this embarrassing?"

He looked at me in disgust. "Cookies? I'm not going to make cookies, what are you TALKING about?" And he jerks the box from my hands and dumps it out on the bed. That's when I see the INSTRUCTION BOOKLET: How your NEW Penis Pump Works...

Well, you can color ME confused... What the hell is a penis pump? You HAVE to understand, I am probably the STUPIDEST person about ADULT TOYS and SEX and THINGS OF THIS PARTICULAR NATURE, ever.

So, I'm like... staring at him, and staring at the booklet, and I think.... MAYBE, a penis pump is to PUMP that sum'bitch up BIGGER!! Woo Hoo!!

I throw my arms around my husband and say, "Honey, aren't you a doll!!! Let's get RIGHT to it!! We're gonna PUMP (clap, clap) YOU UP!!"

I check the instructions for how to put it together, and spend a few minutes totally BEWILDERED by three little rubber ring things, find out what THEY are for with an infuriatingly CRIMSON blush... and then I um.... attached it and turned it on.



Well, I HEAR a noise, so it must be working, right? And then I look DOWN THERE...


Ain't nothin' goin' on down there....

"Hey, what's the problem?" I ask. "There's no suction." whispers my husband. Well, I hand over the controls to him, so that I can be a spectator to this miracle. He fiddles with it a bit while I watch, and.... lo and behold....

Something starts to happen....

Oh the excitement!!! Oh the joy!!! I'm like a cheerleader on the sidelines, SCREAMING, "Oh yeah, baby!! We're gonna PUMP!! (clap, clap) YOU UP!!"

And woo hoo!! The damn thing is growing!! I'm up off the bed at this point, with my arms waving in the air and I burst out in song: "Can I get a WIT-NESS??? Can I get a WIT-NESS!?!?!"

"SHHHHH! Shut up! Jesus, you're so LOUD!" says my husband. And he's making this really funny face, almost like he's in PAIN. And suddenly, he's scrambling like mad trying to break the suction and get the penis pump OFF.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!!!!" I scream. "What the fuck are you doing? It's not DONE!!!" That thing has not even BEGUN to fill that tube.

"It's HURTING," he pants. "I've got to get it off..."

Well, shit.... OK, I am nothing if not a team player, so I reach out and push the PANIC button, which stops the suction immediately. Husband slides the rubber ring thingy um... down where it needs to BE, donchaknow...

And we set about making things HAPPEN.

Ok, so far so good...

Ninety seconds later, I hear this: "Ahhhh, shit."

Now, I don't know about you.... but I have to tell you that right smack dab in the middle of MARITAL RELATIONS is not the time I want to hear the words, "Ahhhh, shit."

And then I knew.....

And I said, "Ahhhh, shit."

And he said, "The ring didn't work..."

Huh. Well, well, well. What the fuck do you know about that? The ring did not work. The RING did not work? I'm thinking not a DAMN thing worked, but I say nothing.

I grab the instructions and start at the beginning....

It seems you can learn SOMETHING new each and every day. Because a PENIS PUMP is not used to MAKE AN ALREADY WORKING PENIS BIGGER. It is used to give a LIMP NOODLE a nudge in the right direction.

And the rings? Well, they are used to keep it there.

"Why did that goddamn thing grow, in that tube?" I yelled at my husband.

"Well, you were WATCHING it," he defended himself. "I got excited by that."

I growled. And I kept reading....

"YOU USED THE WRONG RING!!!" I shouted in accusation. "What the hell made you think you need the LARGE ONE?" I am completely bumfuzzled with frustration. "It's supposed to be tight!"


"It wasn't tight ENOUGH, Johnny ComeEARLY!!!"

And then I saw the receipt......

"HOLY MOTHER OF THE TINY LITTLE LORD BABY JESUS!!!! You paid TWO HUNDRED and fifty four DOLLARS for that piece of SHIT?"

And then I saw something in his eyes.... He'd had enough. He was embarrassed and frustrated (though TRUST me, not as frustrated as ME) and he was angry. And he was out $254.

I heaved a very longsuffering sigh....

"Well, maybe you can make it into a cookie press...." and left the room with my head held high. Last word, I win...

The end.