Saturday, December 5, 2009

Inquiring Melody Wants to Know...

Today's questions are about "faking it." Please answer honestly, even if you are a big yellow-bellied coward and have to do it under the guise of anonymity...

A. Is there a time when it's OK to "fake it"?

B. When is it NOT OK?

C. Should you ever tell him you faked it?

D. Do men ever fake it?

E. CAN a man ever fake it?

OH, and PS. If you are commenting anonymously, please let me know if you are a man or woman. Thanks and I purply sparkly heart you....

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Screaming out Loud....

I really thought I'd post more, when I wrote the last post about Autumn. Go figure, I had no words...

I was going to post on my birthday, but I was so hungover from the Mexican! Fiesta! the girls threw for me that I doubt I could have written a single coherent sentence.

I was going to post on November 22, the day my mom died, but I decided that I wouldn't have any good words that day either.

I was going to post on Thanksgiving day about how happy I was that Mitch and Katie and Jane and Mark and the boys and their girlfriends and my girls were with me and how wonderful Thanksgiving Day actually turned out to BE. But then I ate a lot of turkey and got sleepy and slept for like, 27 hours.

So, here we are. This day means literally nothing and so I have no reason to feel any pressure whatsoever to post something meaningful. Which is just the way I like it.

Today, on Facebook, I set my status as "And I feel like I'm naked in front of a crowd, 'cause these words are my diaries, screaming out loud...." which is actually a line from a fabulous song by Anna Nalick. I highly recommend that you listen to it, and love it like I do. But I digress.

I particularly love this line of the song, and believe you me, I am jealous as hell that I was not the author. What a descriptive line! These words are my diaries, screaming out loud.... Of course, Anna Nalick is referring to songwriting, whereas, if you tried to sing anything "I've" ever written you'd be pelted with withered and rotted vegetation.

I said all of that just to say this: I can SO identify with this one little descriptive line of verse. This blog... the thoughts that I struggle to put into words, and the words that I struggle to put into these paragraphs... they ARE my diaries. And sometimes? Oh how I hope they will scream out loud to you... So that maybe ONE or TWO or TEN of you will say to yourself... "Yeah. I get it. I know what she means. I know who she is. I KNOW Melody. I understand her."

Of course, you could just as easily understand me and HATE me with a fiery hot passion. And that's ok too, though I would have to say to you, "If you hate me that much, what the fuck are you doing here, reading my blog? Go live your life, you backstabbing son-of-a-cock-whore!"

OK. I'm not making a whole lot of sense, here, am I? Some of you will know that that is the NORM with me. Not making sense is what Melody does best, donchaknow.

Oh, you guys, what a life I have lived for the last few months. It's been UPUPUP, and it's been downdowndown. But it has not been dull, not even for a second.

I've been wined and dined, treated like a queen, and treated like shit. I've had phone sex, text sex, cyber sex, and real sex. I've been lied to, cheated on, told I would be a "knockout" if I were NORMAL SIZED, and offered, by a 59 year old married man with false teeth, to be "licked. for one hour." (I had to pass on the licking, by the way. 'Cause, ewwww. False teeth.) I also had sex with my ex husband for money. Don't judge me, I'm making my own rules now.

I've dated an alcoholic, a pathological liar, a pothead, and the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet. (Hi, Fletch!)

I've paid rent, I've mowed grass, and made buddies with the local drug selling teens. (They got my BACK, yo')

I've met lots of "nice" guys online, who, probably because I am a lunatic, have stopped talking to me at some point and now do the POLITE, "hey, how are ya? I'm JUST on my way out! Talk to you soon!"

I've been desperately lonely.

I've been happier than I've ever been in my life.

I've been free.

Yeah, these words are my diaries, screaming out loud........

Monday, September 28, 2009


I've had a love/hate relationship with Autumn for about 20 years now. The cooler weather, the blue skies, the wind whipping through the beautiful colored leaves on the trees... all of these things appeal to that part of me that craves an aesthetic beauty in my life. I don't just like to LOOK at Autumn. I NEED it, on some level that I don't understand, and have decided to no longer question that desire. Nor will I allow myself to feel guilty for it.

Autumn is also the time of year that is hardest and saddest for me. As most of you know, if you're here reading, I lost my mother on Thanksgiving Day, November 22, 1990. That entire Autumn was spent in a crazy jumble of emotions, as I watched my beloved mother waste away, while at the same time trying to nurture the tiny little life growing inside me. Despair generally won the battle, and, as November drew closer that year, I bundled myself way up inside myself and pointedly turned OFF any pleasure that I might otherwise have gained from Autumn's beauty.

In the years since my mother died, I've felt the approach of Autumn with a mixture of hope, and dread. Mostly dread. I've not let myself enjoy this most beautiful of all the seasons, choosing to believe that it should be a time of remembrance... and grief. I've all but PLANNED an emotional breakdown each year, and let myself wallow in a tumultuous pit of longing and anger and self-pity.

My heart... my SOUL... is tired of grieving. Nineteen years is long enough. Is it wrong to feel this way? I don't think so. I think my mother has probably spent the last several years, hands on hips, shaking her head in disapproval at my stubborn refusal to let it go.

I want to enjoy the sights of Autumn! I want to put on a sweatshirt, go for a walk, and sit and watch the leaves fall. I want to SMELL the season, I want to taste it, I want to FEEL it!

Toward that end, I hereby give myself permission to do the following, this Autumn:

  1. I will enjoy the sights, sounds, smells of this 2009 Autumn season.
  2. I will remember and love my wonderful mother, without guilt, without grief, and without despair.
  3. I look forward to and participate in Thanksgiving Day, and I will give thanks, for each good thing in my life, past and present.
  4. I will forgive God.
There have been lot of changes in my life this year. And while I will save THAT story for another post, I will say this:

The times, they are a' changin'. And Melody... She is a' changin', too.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Over and around and through me...

I was behind her in line at the grocery. She didn't have many items, and I was in a hurry. I looked in her cart at the few things she had, and then looked in my own. "Poor thing," I thought. She must live alone, like me.

I checked the clock on my phone. I had 15 minutes to get my things paid for and haul my ass to work. I hadn't slept well the night before, worries and annoyances plaguing me for hours. I was tired. I was cranky. I was in a hurry.

I watched as she began to remove the items from her cart and place them on the counter. She moved as if she was mired in quicksand. "Ok," I thought. "She's old. She's slow. But she doesn't have much and it won't take long. Breathe."

I looked more closely at her. She was a tiny little thing, a little hunched over in that way that older people get. She was dressed in what my kids like to call "old lady clothes": a polyester pantsuit and shoes that looked "comfortable", which is my euphemism for UGLY.

Every hair was in place and sprayed to within an inch of it's life. She wore no makeup except for a touch of lipstick. Her face was lined and her skin was saggy. Her hands were wrinkled and gnarled from arthritis and every move she made looked painful.

I stifled a sigh. I do not have a lot of patience with older people. Quite frankly, they frighten me. I have this fear that one of them will fall or die right in front of me, and I won't have a clue what to do with them. I send a silent wish to the heavens that this little lady doesn't keel over dead, not right NOW, when I'm late for work and my head hurts and my eyes feel like I slept in a sandbox.

I looked around. Why was there no one helping this little old woman? Didn't she have children? Were there not people who took care of this sort of thing? I checked my phone again. I had 10 minutes now, to get my shit and get to work. I considered leaving without my things, but I REALLY needed the coffee. And the milk. And holy SHIT we were out of toilet paper. I couldn't leave.

This time the sigh escaped me. The woman turned to look at me and our eyes met for just a moment. Then she smiled at me, and her face was transformed from the wrinkled little... OLD PERSON that she was... to the beautiful woman she must at one time have been. Her eyes were blue and clear and when she smiled, the laugh lines around them crinkled and framed them in a delightful and lovely way. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just poking along, and you only have a few things too. Would you like to go ahead of me?"

I was immediately contrite. I might have been annoyed, but my mother had taught me good manners. "No, of course not, you're fine. Thank you." I said to her. I was a bit ashamed of myself for being so petty.

After what seemed like HOURS, and after she had found a coupon for nearly everything she bought, and after she had counted out EXACT change from the tiny little faded blue change purse she pulled from her ENORMOUS purse, her bags were placed back into her cart and she began to make her way to the front door.

I was late. Crap. My frustration returned and I quickly paid for my things and began to hurry to my car. I passed the little woman and didn't turned back when she said to me, "Have a nice day, honey."

As I left the store, I noted a car parked at the curb. I noticed it because a little old man, not much bigger than the little old woman, was getting out of the car and looking around. "I bet he's looking for her," I thought. "At least she has someone to help her. Though I can't see how he's going to do her much good. He moves more slowly than SHE does."

I put my things in the car and lit a cigarette. Starting the car, I exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked back toward the entrance to the store as I put the car in gear.

And I sat there. And stared.

And I put the car back in park and rolled down my window.

And I watched them.

He met her at the door and walked with her to the car, one hand on the small of her back, one hand with hers on the cart handle. Slowly, so slowly that it was almost painful to watch, they walked back to the car. He stopped the cart beside the passenger door and opened the door. Turning, he took her hand in his and helped her to the car, bending to help her lift her feet inside.

I watched, my eyes wide, as he put his hand on the side of her face and kissed her on the forehead. She reached up to pat his hand, and her face lit up in that beautiful smile again. My eyes began to fill as I watched, and a jumble of emotions welled up in me.

I felt ashamed for being so annoyed with her. I felt humbled by the courteous and loving care he'd shown her. I felt happiness that two people might still feel so much love for each other, after such a long time together.

I put my head down on the steering wheel as I cried. I felt defeated, for my own marriage had ENDED after 25 years. I was alone. I felt bitter jealousy that I did not have what she had. I had never had it.

And that thought filled me with another emotion.


I let it wash over and around and through me, as I sat there that day and cried. I cried for the aching loss of something I had never known. I cried for the young girl I had once been, whose goal in life hadn't been money or fame or power. Her only goal had been true love. I cried for the many pieces of my broken heart, my heart that had reached out so many times, in hope, in love, at times in desperation. I cried for the lonely old woman that I would become.

And then I wiped away my tears, started my car, and drove myself to work.

But the fear and the lonely and the loss still washed over and around and through me.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Divorced? Me? Are you SURE?!

So, hey internets... how the hell are you?

I've been away for awhile because I've been busy playing on facebook. Would you like to know what's new in my life? I'm going to tell you anyway....

The divorce was final on April 6. Just 35 days from the date is was filed. I don't know if that's a record in my county, but it's definitely a record here in my office.

So, after the hearing, I moved into my new house and it was like a dream come true. Granted, everything that COULD go wrong DID go wrong, I had boxes and boxes and boxes of boxes to unpack, and I moved in without a bed or a washer and dryer. Or a sofa. But move in I did, and I have never in my life felt so much peace.

And of course, since nothing in my life can go according to plan, my EX decides he wants to be my boyfriend. *sigh*

For about the next two weeks, he calls me night and day, wanting to visit, wanting to tell me how miserable he is, and wanting sex. Oh yes! He wanted sex! I tried, I really tried hard to be understanding. I knew he was going to be lonely. I also knew he thought I was going to run right back to him and beg him to take me back. I had no intention of doing this. So it was a fine line I walked....

Finally, I met one of my new neighbors. Who just happened to be a boy I went to school with, and who also just happened to work at the same place my EX works. I thought it was funny, because they are friends, so I called him up and told him. "Guess who lives right across the street from me? JIMMY Frickin' H!"

Ex was not pleased. Ex was so not pleased that he proceeded to bitch about it for five minutes while we were on the phone. I was on my way to his house to pick up my girls, and so I said, "BYE!" and hung up. When I got there, God help me Jeebus, he was like, NEAR TEARS, and saying that NOW HE KNEW I WAS GOING TO GO OUT WITH JIMMY H.

I tried to reassure him, I have absolutely NO intention whatsoever of going out with Jimmy H. NONE! EVER!

But he kept at it so long that I said, "You wanted this fucking divorce. You filed for it. Guess what? You got it. You have no say anymore in ANYTHING I do. Get the fuck over yourself."

It felt good at the time, but since then, it has been at LEAST once a week that he asks if I've seen Jimmy H. The one week that he didn't ask, when Miss Katie was here, stupid Jimmy H walks over one night while I'm outside having a smoke. So we sit on the porch in the dark and talk about all the people from our class that we hate. He was there maybe 30 min.

Did I tell EX? No, I didn't. I actually forgot about it, and didn't think of it again until today. You know why I thought of it today? Because the EX just called me on the phone and said he'd passed JIMMY H at work today and JIMMY H had LOOKED at him. And apparently, he looked at him with a SHIT EATING GRIN on his face.

I said, "you are ridiculous. he did not." The EX assured me that OH YES HE BY GOD DID!!!

I said, "Not my problem. I did not put that grin there, I assure you."
"I know," says the EX. "Cause you said you haven't seen him and I believe you."

We hang up, and I think. Fffffuuuuccccckkkkk. I did see him. Sort of. On my front porch. At frickin' 11 at night.

5 minutes later, the EX calls back. "You are not lying to my about him are you?"


"Long as you are telling me the truth it will be ok." says the EX.

Now... here is my problem. And here is what I WANT to say to him:

"It will ok, anyway, motherfucker, because I am free and I can do whatever I want with WHOMEVER I want, and that includes Jimmy Frickin' H, even though I would not go with him to the FLEA MARKET."

But now that I have already lied, he's gonna think I have something to hide. UGH! Why do I let this shit happen?

He divorced me! He has no right to do this! Understand that I am NOT afraid of him. IT's the embarrassment and humiliation should he say or do something to Jimmy H.

I'm open to suggestions here, because honestly, I don't know what the hell do about this mess. It is not in me to be mean to him. (He would argue that the fact that I cheated on him was VERY mean, but then, this is not HIS blog, is it?)

I just want to be left alone. He divorced me. He has no right to expect me to be his "girlfriend", and even less right to ask me for sex.

And so, internets, other than that, I'm doing great!

Monday, March 30, 2009

Big Day...

Well, internets, today is the big day.

The day of my hearing. Where we find out if it's a status hearing, a temporary hearing, or a final hearing. Could be any one of the three. Total crap shoot.

My money is on final hearing. Because the HUSBAND made nice-nice with the judge's clerk and got the inside scoop. Everything is being expedited for him because he has to go back to CHINA. Bet he didn't tell them what he was bringing home from CHINA.

Oh well.

I'll let you know how it goes, probably.

love and stuff,


Thursday, March 26, 2009

My suitcase o' blues....

I love my little daddy....

Last night he called me to check on me. I have to be so careful when I talk to him, that I don't have a "melody-meltdown". My dad can't handle that, and he's got a bad heart. So I try to spare him the worst of my worst moods....

So, I'm telling him that I'm ok, but sick with a cold, and that I've found a house, but the only reason I haven't moved in yet is the cold that has prevented me from getting anything done.

I'm also whining about not having a sofa or a washer and dryer, because after all, this IS my daddy, and should he so choose, he could instruct me to write a check and VOILA! New sofa, new washer, new dryer.

But then, after all this IS my daddy and he ignored my whining. *sigh*

But he gave me a wonderful idea.

"Sissy," he says, (because he calls me that, of course) "I want you to pack a suitcase." (Oh yay! I'm thinking, "Daddy's gonna send me on vacation!!")

"I want you to pack it IN YOUR MIND...." (huh? But... um... DADDY? How'm I gonna go on vacation with a MIND SUITCASE?)

"In it, I want you to put all the bad shit. Everything you don't want to take into your new home. Pack it into your suitcase. Take your time, sister, and do it right. Pack up all the hurt and the anger and the bad feelings. And when you drive up to your house, leave that suitcase on the curb for the garbageman."

Eventually, my daddy gets around to making sense...

So, throughout the day, I will be "packing" my virtual suitcase, and of course, being the attention whore that I am, I want to share with you what I'm packing.

And of course, if you have any good ideas for me, I'd be glad to hear 'em.


Melody's Suitcase O' Blues:

1. My guilt over my mother falling on October 5, 1990. I know she would not have held it against me, and I will learn to not hold it against myself.

2. My memory of the Sperm Donor asking me, "Am I ashamed of you? Well, would YOU want to be seen out with something that looks like you?"

3. My shame for being unfaithful to my husband in a relationship that did NOTHING for me.

4. My fear that I will never find someone that I will REALLY connect with. That I will never MATTER... to anyone.

5. My love of the Little Debbie Devil. (which is Nutty Bars, to be specific)

***to be continued...

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Oh, the humanities.... how I hate them.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a good person.

I'm grouchy, and hateful. I'm lazy and fat. I'm depressed and unwilling to work to make my life better. I'm not a good friend, because friendship takes work, and I don't like work. I certainly haven't been a good wife, over the last 25 years.

There are many, many NOT good things about me.

But I will tell you something true. I have never in my life INTENTIONALLY hurt anyone. It is not in me to do so. My soon-to-be-EX husband would probably disagree with me. But he, as usual, would be wrong. I did not try to hurt him.

I am open about my life, about who I am, the mistakes I've made, and all the many things that are wrong with me. The reason I am this way is because I want to know right up front if the things about ME are things that YOU can live with. So I shower you with all the bad stuff. If you can handle that, I figure you're a keeper.

Probably that is not the best way to live. Because, let me tell you.... People lie. Why does this still surprise me? People will say to you, "I can handle all your quirks, I will be your friend no matter what." But it isn't true.... Because when the going gets tough, and with me, believe me, it gets tough, then they bail...

I'm filled with so much anger and disappointment right now, I'm not sure what to do with it all. And it isn't all about ONE thing. Oh, no. It seems like there's something new every single day that sends me right up to... and over... the edge.

I don't have control of my emotions. I don't have control of anything... I have never felt so completely helpless in my life. And it's not a good feeling. Not that I've ever felt like a strong and "in control" individual. No, I've pretty much felt insecure and incapable, for as long as I can remember.

I can't rant about it here. THAT'S one thing that is driving me bug fucking nuts. There's so much I want to say, so much I NEED to say, and my blog SHOULD be the place that I can say it. But I can't. Because I have to worry about what some OTHER people would think or feel should they read about the CRAP I'm feeling right now.


I have a secret blog. Only about 3 or 4 people know of it. And I guess I'm going to have to use THAT forum to get some of this venom out of me. Because I don't know what else to do. If I don't do SOMETHING to vent this rage, it's going to burn me alive. And then I will be CRISPY, dead melodyann....

For now, those of you who are my friends, please know that I AM, for the most part, ok. My hearing is Monday. I have found a place to live. Eventually, I KNOW that I will be better than I am at this moment.

love and stuff,


Sunday, March 8, 2009

The List...

I am a list maker. I love making lists. I make lists of books I want to buy, books I want to read, books I've already read. I make lists of songs I want to download, things I want to cook, places I want to go.

I generally never see these lists again.

Because I am also a LOSER of lists. I can make a list of things to buy at the grocery, and WATCH myself tuck it into my wallet, put my wallet into my purse, put my purse on my shoulder.

By the time I get to the grocery, the list is gone. I usually find it a week later, with a wad of gum tucked inside it.

Recent events have certainly necessitated the making of new lists.

And apparently, my LISTER is broken.

Because I can sit down with a pen, and two hours later, I have doodled my name 37 times, written a haiku, added some random numbers (you LOSE those math skills if you don't use them), and drawn 54 stick people.

But I cannot come up with a list to save my fat ass.

So, this morning, I was talking to a friend, and thinking, "What the hell am I going to do today?" He said something that I had no idea how to reply to, and so I let my mind wander....

"melodyann," I said to myself. "you've got to DO something today."

"fuck off," says melodyann. She can be SUCH a bitch, that melodyann.

"i'm SERIOUS," says I. "it's a beautiful day. you are reasonably clear headed, you have a MILLION things that need doing. you need a LIST."

"i don't do those anymore," quipped melodyann. "is there any more coffee? i need to pee. you're out of cigarettes. look how cute Cleo is. why don't you go lay down and cuddle with her? jeebus, your legs are hairy. what's for breakfast?"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. "you're not paying attention! we need a LIST! Lists are good! they tell you what to do!"

"we could play scrabbbbbb-le," says melodyann. "you know how much you love scrabble... c'mon, just one little game. no one will know...."

But I remained firm. We need a list, me and melodyann. Because there is a very good chance we will be divorced in 22 days. And we are NOT prepared. And so I thought that making a list HERE might be a good idea, since I cannot doodle, draw stickmen OR add any numbers on my blog. *note to self: find some kind of math widget to add to blog.

Here then, is the first draft of my current ToDo List. Believe me when I tell you that it is in no certain order, and it's a VERY rough draft. Feel free to add anything you feel might be important.

1. Go buy cigarettes.

See. I'm already stumped. Perhaps I will try again AFTER I go buy cigarettes...

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A Day, a Life...

dawn comes...
and with it, hope.
the shadows and demons
of the night before it
fade away
in the light of day.

day passes...
and with it, time.
no time for dreams and wishes;
hurry, hurry,
get things done
before the fading sun.

sunset glimmers...
and with it, regret.
time wasted, and love
a myth, a mystery.
fling a prayer into the sky
darkness is nigh...

night falls...
and with it, fear.
monsters roam among the shadows.
the damned cry out
in vain. shed a tear
death is here.


Wednesday, February 25, 2009


I want to be funny again. I want to laugh and snort and write about the deliciously goofy and hilarious things my kids do. I want to tell stories of The Husband's obscenely ignorant remarks. I want to talk shit about our clients and the complete MORONS that I run into on a daily basis.


I'm so angry.

Oh my God, I'm so angry I feel like my head is going to explode. It's eating away at my soul. It's feeding on my fear and my frustration and my disappointment.

I've never in my life been so angry. Not even when my mother, who was the BEST person I've EVER known, died at the ripe old age of 51. Not even when some kids I went to church with wrapped a trash bag around a little old lady's head who lived only three houses from me, and let her die... Because she wouldn't loan them her car.

I wasn't this angry when I read about the mom who drowned her children in the bathtub. Or when my brother came into my house and stole a thousand dollars of my dad's money that was hidden here. Or when they cancelled Alien Nation.

Every single cell in my body is SCREAMING in outrage. Every smile, every laugh, every word that comes from someone else's mouth fills me with malice. I want to punch the world in the nose.

I don't know what to do with it, all this anger. I don't even really know why I am FEELING it. Despite what you may think is true, I CAUSED this mess that I find myself in. This fucking pit of excrement is of my OWN MAKING.

I really, truly, honestly, don't know what to do...

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Anyone for Chinese?

Well, well, well. Here we are. I sat for a while last night and stared at my blog. I missed it so. And then it came to me.... like an epiphany, only... you know, in a kind of, "oh my Jesus, it's fucking 1:30 in the morning, and I have to get up at 4:00!" kind of way.

I want to WRITE again. I don't care about what. God knows, nothing GLORIOUS ever sprang from my lips, no words of GREAT INSIGHT or INSPIRATION.

But I don't care. HMPFH. This is my blog, and I miss writing in it. And so now I'm going to do it some more.

And I'm not hiding under an assumed name, or a cartoon picture anymore either. Fuck that shit. What do I have to hide? Trust me, there's more going on out there in that great big world than what can be found here on my little corner of it.


How've you guys been? Didja miss me? I better get, like, 50 gazillion comments saying, "oh my heck YES, I was about to go out of my MIND from pining for you, melody!" Otherwise, I'm gonna pick one of you and come move in with you. And bring Things One and Two. And the dogs. And I might find Anny-Banany and bring her too. That would serve you right.

So, gosh, it's been so long since I've actually written anything that MATTERED, I don't know where to start....

You all know that I moved out of the house on November 10th. A lot of you probably know that I moved back in in the middle of December, when my boss decided "We are not running a half-way house, Melody."

So, yeah, I'm still there, at home, still looking for a place to live, or someone who will let me mooch off them. Neither is very easy to find in my hometown, let me tell you. West Virginia is full of mooch-ERS, not mooch-EES. I long to become a mooch-EE.

Oh! There's some interesting news for some of you, who might not have had to listen to me whine and cry and piss and moan in the last couple of months!

My husband went to China and had sexual relations with a 25 year old POSSIBLE Chinese hooker! Twice! See? Never boring around here, let me tell you.


For the past little bit, I've been so goddamned angry that I have completely lost control of my life. Some of you will think to yourself, "Bitch, you deserved it! Look what you've done to him!" And I can tell you, I don't disagree with you. That doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

And I will tell you, I'm not just angry about the sex. Although I am plenty angry about that, and I can be angry if I WANT to so SHUTTIE!

I'm angry because it didn't END there. Oh no, he didn't just have sex. This man, the man that I've been married to, controlled by, talked down to, rejected by, and generally FUCKED WITH for 25 years, has fallen in love.....

Whisper it, won't you..... he's fallen in love.... imagine birds singing gaily, and rose petals floating on a golden breeze....

And then picture this: a $1,100 PINK laptop computer, a $365 dollar Chinese-to-English pocket translator, $400 for a personal translator to TELEPHONE China and talk to said Chinese POSSIBLE hooker, $200 for a new cell phone, $100 for a new pair of tennis shoes, 2 new pairs of jeans (cost as yet undetermined) and 2 new t-shirts (cost as yet undetermined).

A goddamn pink laptop.

And you haven't even BEGUN to hear it all, internets. Because I. ordered. it. for. her.

Oh, yes, I did. I ordered her the pink laptop. I ordered the Chinese-to-English pocket translator. I found the website for the personal translator.

Because I believed him when he said, "I STILL have not done as much wrong as you. You owe me."

Thing Two said, "I feel like I live in some kind of alternate universe. My mom and dad are cheating on each other and helping each other do it." I didn't correct her by saying, "No, by God, no one helped me, thank you very much."

Thing One said, "You two are completely fucked up. Get my sister out of there before you ruin her."

The Chinese girl, who my darling daughters have dubbed Young Chow, wants to get married. Well, isn't that a surprise? She must REALLY love my husband, (and believe me when I say, internets, I use the term "my husband" as an identifier only, as I promised not to use his name on my blog. I don't keep ALL my promises, but this one I will keep.)

Anyway, Young Chow must REALLY be in love. Because she wants to get MARRIED. I guess, "I have to DIVORCE my WIFE FIRST," doesn't translate well. She wants money for her mommy and daddy too, poor things. Maybe she can bring them to live with her and my husband. Lots of Asian families all live together. Think what fun that would be for my husband!

Finally, to Things One and Two, I'd like to say this: Don't be angry at me for what you may read here. This is the only release I have. I love you girls. And I am more sorry than you will ever know for the complete and utter mess I've made of MY life, and your lives. And sorry for the fact that it isn't going to go away quickly. But it will get better. Eventually. I promise.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Dear Internets,

I'm coming back....

Love, melodyann

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Monday, January 5, 2009

R.I.P. Vincent-the-Saving-Dog

How I miss you, my little best friend. You made my heart smile for 18 years....