Welcome to the stage

What brings you to the mountain?

“Back child support payments.”

I hear ya. What a hassle. So what brings you to the mountain? 

“Murder. I mean mean redrum. No. I mean murder. I mean SUSPECTED murder.”

Right. Innocent until proven guilty.

“Ok, so what brings YOU to the mountain?” They ask.

Democrats 

“Oooooh. Daaaamn.”

I know, right?

I lived among California Democrats for a very long time. The bleediest bloody hearts of all Democrats. Murderers and deadbeat dads are nothing compared to those types of Democrats.

PURGE!!! 

If America didn’t want a full scale PURGE, than bloody rip and tear horror movies like SAW wouldn’t receive the financial backing to make SAW II, SAW III, and SAW IV, (furthermore) PURGE, THE PURGE, THE PURGE: ANARCHY, THE PURGE: ELECTION YEAR, THE FIRST PURGE, and THE PURGE tv series. 

Get it? 

People fantasize about not only making murder legal for 12 hours a year, they also fantasize about kidnapping strangers and forcing them to mutilate themselves or die violently in their abducted human death traps. 

Tess Thompson Talley

PURGE!!! 

I’m watching ‘The Galapagos Affair’ on Netflix, and let me just say, if all those people invaded MY island after I toiled to make that island beautiful and livable, they would have encountered PURGE style boobytraps!

Does anyone else see a likeness between Galapagos and tv show Giligan’s Island? 

Some people put cameras everywhere. Not me. Nope. You go through my things, there’s a chance you’re going to lose a finger or an eye the moment you open my closet.

When I was a kid we had toys like Build A Better Mousetrap. The game where you constructed a physical series of cause and events to capture the plastic man. For ages five and older. 

Our childhood games made you build, create, think, use stratagem. 

Only greedy simpletons wanted to buy Park Place & Park Ave., then put hotels on those properties and bankrupt fellow players in one swift move. Game over. But what fun is that? When you could buy smaller property all over the Monopoly board and slowly bleed people dry, you know, like a real landlord. 

I thought erector sets were pretty cool. We had a rather impressive imitation glass and steel set. But then I got wise. Buildings made of glass and steel usually turn into corporate business buildings and banks. No thanks.

If games today depict training for actual life, than zombies are real, and being a serial murderer is an art form.

Republicans and tweets by rap artists are the last thing Democrats need to worry about. 

PURGE!!

It seems to already be happening. Be careful what you start Democrats. But you won’t. Because you’re Democrats. All emotion, no brains. You never think things through. No one goes down alone. Not ever.

All the world is a stage, my friends. It’s no place to seek the truth.

FYI, Curtis Jackson III, is way more badass sounding than 50 Cent. Just saying. 

Life. 

I’ve never been stung by a bee, and I’ve never had poison ivy. Why? Because I respect nature. See how that works? 

For simple sheep; and such are daffodils 

With the green world they live in; and clear rills

That for themselves a cooling covert make 

'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, 

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: 

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms

—A Thing Of Beauty. Keats

Some people stay in the game. 

Some quit. 

Be seeing you.

Gas masks for everyone!

It’s not like we didn’t hate each other before Trump became president. I assure you, society has hated each other FOR CENTURIES. The only difference is now we use our outside voices everywhere. 

PURGE!!! Let’s do this already. I’ve got some awesome booby trap arrangements that would put landmines TO SHAME. 

I have never been more grateful for having been raised in the hard winter weather of Minnesota, than I am today. It’s because of Minnesota winters we were taught advanced survival skills. My first fishing pole was literally a stick wrapped with nylon reel, hooks, and a sizable canister of dirt and worms I dug up myself. To lower/raise the thread you hand twist the stick, one hand on each end of the stick, and hand twine/untwine the reel. Not because we couldn’t afford nicer fishing poles, but because nice fishing poles take up room in a backpack. Even the collapsible ones. 

The key to survival is to live off very little. Next to nothing. Historic Native Americans were amazing engineers. They figured out how to cut through three feet of ice on a lake.

Actually, mother nature’s little critters are the historic superior engineers. Humans learned from them how and where to build dams, create shelters, how to store food, store water, what earthly elements made good tools, when the seasons were changing, etc.  

Piss off cooking channel. I learned how to gut and fillet fish with a Swiss pocket knife when I was 10 years old. 

PURGE!!! One day a year, full blown mayhem, kill or be killed. I’m positive I would make it to the second round. Many of you would not. That doesn’t bother me one bit. Nope. 

We can turn our little cliques into clans. Arizona Viking Queen!!! Let’s set up camp in the mountains. I know a spot.

If I had kids, thankfully I don’t, but if I did, I would teach them at the very least basic survival skills, like recognizing water that is safe to boil and drink. Things like that. I predict some serious shit is going to hit the fan in the next 50-70 years. 

All the hatred in the world, in this country, will come to a breaking point. 

PURGE!!!! 

Just one day a year.

Maybe I should leave that part out on my Match.com profile, eh?

Loaner Husbands

Now that’s a reality show people would watch. I haven’t seen an episode, or watched the movie, or read the Handmaid’s Tale, but I could write a script about Loaner Husbands. 

I’ve lived alone now for six months. Going on seven. I hate it. Absolutely hate it. I hate coming home to an empty apartment. I don’t have pets because I’m not home enough. It wouldn’t be fair to the pets. Plus I would worry nonstop (what if) my central air conditioner broke down. Not that I want to live with a boyfriend, just not come home to an empty apartment. 

With the exception of a few ghetto experiences, MOST Loaner Husbands are classy and amazing. They take you out, have long meaningful conversations over a bottle of wine or two, dinners together, a show, a movie, and on occasion truly, truly amazing sex. For whatever reason single guys don’t get it. Married men enjoy the company. Single men only enjoy themselves. 

Gender roles. I don’t care if you’re two men, two women, whatever, ONE OF YOU is going to do laundry more than the other person, I promise you. 

I lived with a married couple for three months. He was the stay at home (whatever, do nothing guy) and she worked nights as a doctor. She clogged their bathtub with her long curly hair every week, and between the two of them neither one could figure out that A) they needed a hair drain for the tub, B) where to get the hair drain, and C) where to get/and how to use Draino to unclog the tub. 

For the first two weeks I lived with them, I went to Target, bought draino and unclogged their tub twice. After the third time they complained about their tub clogged, we had a chat, and that’s when I learned they had no idea hair clogged the drain. Furthermore, that was just the tub. The husband broke the ice maker by jamming his glass repeatedly against the ice release valve when it ran out of ice. He thought the ice maker filled itself with water. All their previous roommates helped them unclog their bathtub. All the previous roommates filled the ice maker with water. They were domestically challenged everywhere. That couple completely stressed me out. After just those first two weeks living with them, I would have dumped them both if we were dating. It’s why they couldn’t keep roommates. That husband literally did nothing every day. I asked him once why he didn’t work, and he replied, “We only have one car.” That was his answer. So she worked. He stayed home and did absolutely nothing. HOW did he get her? Because no one wants to be alone. That’s how. 

The only housework I ever saw that husband perform without breaking something was laundry, although he religiously complained about having to empty the dryer lint trap. “Lint is so disgusting!” He loudly complained until I finally told him not to worry about it. I emptied the lint trap just to stop his nagging. 

I can’t live with couples... and that included my parents.

I hate the stupid fights couples have. Stupid. Meaningless. Irritating fights. My dad’s first wife was a screamer. I can’t be around women who scream or women who cry. Irritates me to no end. I can’t be around women who are jealous and insecure. Just put them all out of their misery already.

I don’t fight with people. I hate drama. I just leave. Move on. Forget about it. That’s the lure of Loaner Husbands. You never fight with them, and you get them for just the good times. The honeymoon never ends. You’re not a sister-wife because you’re not a wife, ever. Thank god.

Pilots are good times also. The good ones are constantly working. I live not far from McCarran International. The pilots who have layovers in Vegas (and back when I lived in LA) are always up for going out and having fun. 

I’d love to see a show about Loaner Husbands. Even a fake reality show. I would so watch that.

Being woman

Single people have the same chores as couples. Might not be to the same degree or density, but all the same chores nonetheless. 

In addition to Being women

I’ve been married. He didn’t help me with anything. I worked full time. I cleaned the house. I did the laundry. I cooked. He wouldn’t even go to the grocery store without me. On top of that he criticized my hair, my art (which by the way is how we met) and he nonstop criticized the fact I love to knit. I’m bad at it. But I love knitting. He was however good at building things, his things, he would only build things for himself.

We’ve all seen that one guy, that one girl, and wondered, HOW did he get her? HOW did she get him. The answer is simple, they didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

Solitary confinement is punishment. 

I believed being married to this man would better both our lives. I was wrong. I picked the wrong guy. Won’t do that again!

You don’t have to be married to be in love. 

You get married for the promise of making each other’s lives better. It’s a contract.

I don’t understand how a couple struggles to have the same things I have. I’m single. You’re a couple. You should have twice more than me. If you don’t, someone needs to lose the anchor. 

Where I am now is a GIANT step towards better quality of life than being married to that man. But still, it’s only just a step forward. 

If I cleaned the house and did the laundry, and he went grocery shopping and fixed the handle on the bathtub, which are things that single people encounter FYI, it would make life SOOOOO much easier. It would give us time to do other things, fun things, together and apart.

How can you argue this?

Gimme a man with a truck and a tool belt!

Being women

Ayn Rand. 

Did I lose half of you already? Good. 

Not all conservatives are alike.

Bob Gordon compares me to Ayn Rand. And while I agree with many aspects regarding her governmental philosophy on social infrastructure, there are many elements of basic human nature she insists are deficient. I disagree. 

EXAMPLE: Man’s relationship to woman. 

While I agree with Rand that we must seek individualism, strive for independent success, and be the best we can be as one, I disagree with ignoring basic gender roles, heterosexual or homosexual. 

What do you bring to the table?

What do you have to offer?

I believe we can be more only as a team. So long as there is an equal amount of giving under the same roof.

Whether business or pleasure, domestic or in the work place, equality in partnership can only be achieved once gender roles are agreeable. Equality is what can be achieved together, not as individuals. If you have the mentality of ‘I can do anything you can do’ than what’s the point of being together, work or play? Who wants to be with someone who’s going to constantly challenge/criticize their capabilities?

Once I start working two jobs, because it takes two incomes to live in this world, than I’m going to stop looking for a partner. I’ll be too busy and tired to share my life with anyone. Is that what life is all about, being too busy and tired for each other?

I had yesterday off. It was my one day off this week. I spent it running around in 108 heat and doing chores starting at 9am. By 7pm I was crashed out in front of the TV exhausted.

I have gone as far as I can, at my age, alone, as an individual, as one. Ayn Rand and feminists say “do more!” as an individual, and while that is possible, by filling the last of my free time with more work I will in fact be doing more, but not better. At my age, I can only achieve doing better with a partner. 

Life isn’t about working yourself into the ground. Not at my age. I have MAYBE 25-30 more years of life left. It seems people are now more commonly dying between the ages of 50-75. And I whole heartedly believe it’s because individuals have abandoned basic human nature for fantasy and illusion. 

Quality of life, at any age, is necessary to live. When men and women confuse and/or abandon their basic gender roles in this world, they make living life harder. 

You do this, and I do that. Simple, right?

Men who are just looking for sex are useless to me. I can achieve orgasms on my own. 

If all a single man has to offer me is sex, no thanks, pass. I’d rather get a second job.

If it wasn’t for loaner husbands, I wouldn’t even date. 

(There’s a script in there somewhere.)

Ayn Rand writes about the 1% - that (we) society created. We created the 1%. 

The wealthy 1% watches the rest of us scramble around like blind mice because we refuse to work together. We refuse to accept what we can and cannot accomplish on our own. And we refuse to accept responsibilities as a couple, as a team, what we contribute as individuals.

Sure, I can get a second full time job, and it looks like I’m going to have to, but it will most likely take 5-10 more years off my life. But then again, if the rest of my life is spent just working, than why live a long life?

Thank god for loaner husbands. They do more for me than any single man I’ve met in the last six years. 

(Seriously, there’s a script in there somewhere.) 

Revenge, Rape and Murder

Titus Andronicus.

Shakespeare.

We begin.

I’m a better hunter than you. 

I challenge all trophy hunters of animals big and small, that I can hunt you down anywhere/anytime. I’ll even allow you to use your opposable thumbs, big brains, 96 episodes of ‘Naked And Afraid’, and I’ll STILL trap you in the West Sudanian Savanna faster than the time it took you to destroy that beautiful giraffe. 

You don’t get a gun. The lions you murdered didn’t have guns. Fuck you. 

How long did it take you to murder that giraffe? A week? I’m pretty sure a can bag you in a day, bitch. Three days if I generously give you a head start. 

On one condition. After I hunt you down, I’ll face zero legal repercussions of the hunt and what I do with your body afterwards. 

Don’t worry I’ll send your blue ribbon trophy ass back home to your parents...

Baked in a pie like Shakespeare.

Titus slits their throats while Lavinia catches the blood in a big bowl.

Why, there your child, baked in this pie, Whereof your mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.

And GO!

The X in NEXT!

Trust me, when your ex asks how you’re doing, I answer as though he’s concerned about MY well being, not yours. I tell him I think the guy you’re dating now is a fucking dick, and that I don’t understand how she dumped you for him!!!

How can you have sex with THAT. It’s very confusing to me like when beautiful people murder each other. I can’t even rationalize it. 

He’s one of those guys who sweeps the floors and changes the lightbulbs at the mechanic’s garage, but still struts around and calls himself a mechanic even though he’s the maintenance man who doesn’t have a clue how to change a car battery.

There’s absolutely NOTHING wrong with being a maintenance man, so long as you take pride in BEING a maintenance man, instead of strutting around faking being a mechanic, which he’s not.

And another thing, fuck machismo!

Flexing your bicep doesn’t make you a man. 

I’m just being honest, girl. Unlike YOU who talked nonstop shit about my ex AFTER we broke up. As if that was any help. 

I don’t like Aramis’s girlfriend either. No one does. But he’s still our guy, so, like the relatives we hate seeing at Christmas, just smile and spike her drink with chloroform. 

I’m kidding. 

Vodka works just fine.

XXX

I carry a wine/bottle opener everywhere I go. I’m that kind of drinker. I carry a bottle opener for work, but let’s be honest, I’ve had a wine opener in my purse since (at least) 1995. Sin’s ex-husband Ben gave me a metallic blue bottle opener in 2007(ish) and I still have it. It’s very sentimental. I remember the day Ben gave it to me. We were all at the beach with a cooler, and no one had bottle opener, and Ben was like, “No one brought a bottle opener because we assumed the bartender would have a bottle opener!” 

In my defense WE WERE AT THE BEACH not at my work. 

Few days later Ben bought me a really nice metallic blue bottle opener and proceeded to give me shit for a year. But in a totally funny way.

Both openers are in my purse right now. I carry them everywhere I go. Along with Mike’s TEXAS keychain he got me during (that one) time we detoured for a few days on (that one) road trip. 

(Sigh)

I miss Ben. I really liked Ben. I like Zack, but your divorce from Ben was really hard on me, girl. It sucks when you really like your friends ex’s. I miss Aramis’s smoking hot ex-wife. She and I could make each other laugh for hours. She was fun. 

Rocco’s Tavern, forever!! 

(Sigh)

Stop dumping your fun, funny, hot significant others god damnit. 

Way to break up the band, Yoko’s! 

I take my friends breakups harder than my own usually because I like their ex’s better than my own. Come to think of it, I liked my ex-husband’s family WAY better than my ex. 

“We hate your ex. Always have.”

That information might have been useful to me before I married him, but fiddle dee dee, water under the bridge. 

I’ve learned my lesson, finally. I’m holding out for my forrest ranger/carpenter male otter spirit animal, but until then I’m hanging out with your ex’s! Why should I have to suffer? Furthermore, I totally get it. You guys need more than just fun, funny, hot, sweet, responsible, interesting, talented, loyal, employed, lovable, kind, active, generous, hard working, and courageous. You also need...

Um

Uh

Well I don’t what you guys need but I’m sure you’ll text me in 5... 4... 3... 

Mating

I could watch these guys all day. https://youtu.be/U7bvq0VEnYA

Bob Gordon keeps pushing me to perform speaking engagements. He thinks I should just talk to people in seminars akin to what I’ve written in this blog for the past five years. If I do, be forewarned ladies and gentlemen, the title of my speaking engagements might be called ‘Justin Baldoni is a lazy asshole.’ Because really, he is. Baldoni has given up on being a man. He has ONE JOB, be a man. He doesn’t want to be the lone pussy among men, so he instructs all men to give up being men alongside him, just to make his lazy ass appear normal. Apparently, according to Baldoni, if there’s one thing women ABSOLUTELY LOVE it’s having to support men 24/7 as though they were all helpless newborn babies. Right? 

“I’m just a little boy. Take care of me.”

Um. No. Be a man.

Refuse to quit!

Feminists might enjoy a pathetic excuse for a man, but real women, like myself, will not. Will never. 

I’ll be 50 years old in 6 (plus) months and I  absolutely refuse to quit being a manicured woman regardless if I have a boyfriend or not.

Intentional slobbery is unacceptable.

You can never have too much pride. Whatever your legal occupation is in life, whatever your role among family, friends, and society, accomplish it all with pride. 

Imagine if everyone took pride in their every day behavior, in the way they drove, in the way they look, in the way they speak, in the way they dress, in the way they raise children, in the way they work, etc., it’s not arrogance to be forever self improving. Better today than yesterday. Justin Baldoni, however, wants men to be quitters. He wants men to give up and just be weak pathetic slobs. IN MY OPINION people like Baldoni inspire suicide. He inspires men to quit being the ONE THING nature intended him to be. He wants men to abandon their masculinity all together. Meh. Why try? Why be a strong man people will love and admire when you can just be lazy, insecure, and cowardly. Ever watch Baldoni’s speaking seminar? Who the fuck does he think he’s helping? Feed the weariness and kiss your hopes and dreams goodbye? — Oh sure. Why not. If there’s one thing people seek in a life partner it’s a lazy, insecure, cowardly mate. You betcha! 

Get off your smartphone and pick up a hammer. Learn how to build something. There are very few things sexier about a man than watching him fix something and build something. The only women who appreciate dick pics, are women who are bored in their relationships. The majority of us women want a man who knows how to build a shelving unit. 

You build me a shelving unit, and paint the house, and I’ll pay the utility bills and do the laundry. That’s our unspoken man/woman agreement. Maybe not those exact reciprocations, but you do for me, and I do for you. 

The whole idea of coupling is to make each other’s lives easier and more enjoyable. Or is it more enjoyable and easier? Either way, if you make my life harder and more work, I’m out. 

Bob Gordon and I talk almost every day. But lately it’s just been me listening while Bob angrily vents sometimes up to three hours, mostly about women. I learned rather quickly he’s not interested in my female opinion. He just needs to vent. But that’s cool. I get it. Among other things he’s mad I moved to Vegas. I had no idea prior to moving he even had an opinion. 

I’ve been blamed for a lot of things over the years:

Anna couldn’t find a husband. It’s my fault because I wasn’t interested being married at that time. My free spirited dating habits were ruining her chances of finding a husband.

James couldn’t find a woman who wanted children. It’s my fault because “It’s women like you (meaning me) who don’t want kids.”

Bob Gordon can’t find a woman just like his beloved dearly departed. It’s my fault because “women like you (meaning me) keep moving away rather than finding a man in Los Angeles.”

I hear this all the time. I’ve been hearing it for almost the sum of my adult life. It’s not acceptable to some, to many, for a woman to just... be. 

“...to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

One day I will meet the forrest ranger/carpenter male otter spirit animal of my dreams, and maybe, if we’re not too old we’ll adopt a child, or maybe he’ll have children, MAYBE. But I’m also fine just being a single manicured woman.

Can’t you be fine just being a man? Is it really that much harder being a man than being a single 49 year old divorced woman??

Do you need to see the video again? https://youtu.be/U7bvq0VEnYA

Another fabulous Capricornicuss

Las Vegas and their cameras. I don’t want to know. I see plenty of awful things on a daily basis. I rather not know what’s happening when I’m not around. People will fuck with you because people suck. The management at this complex has leaf blowers doing their thing at 7am every Saturday morning like clockwork. I’ve lived here for six months. Every Saturday at 7am. The leaf blowers come in and do their thing just long enough to wake you up. In. Five minutes. Out. Leaf blowers. Know how many trees there are in this complex? One. And I’m not sure it’s even real. People are assholes. Cameras. You really want the aggravation of knowing? If I had pets or kids that would be different, but I don’t. I rather not know. I’m not suing anyone unless it’s enough money to end poverty for at least 5 people.

I’m constantly wearing earbuds when I’m out running to and fro. Daytime. In the dead of night. Whenever. Earbuds. “What if someone sneaks up behind you with a gun or knife?” What if? I rather die listening to music than hearing my murderer breathe. 

I SO love politics. 

Yeh. No.

I love it when people are suddenly advocates for prostitution so long as it caters to their political agenda. 

I actually do care what a person does for a living. It matters. If you bring your sex work drama into my home, we’re going to have problems. And by “we” I mean you.

As long as you have it together, keep your work life at work, and your home life at home, we should get on well enough to be at least friendly distant acquaintances. But let’s be honest, if you have (holy shit, some of the medieval fucking porn on the internet!) sex for money on a regular basis, chances are SOME OF YOU might be a little unstable. 

Actions speak louder than words. 

Backpages is gone. Craigslist personals are gone. You, the people, made sure of it. And in Vegas 107 degree heat, street prostitution is on the rise. What did they think was going to happen? 

So what if Giuliani doesn’t respect a female porn actress? I don’t respect her either but for entirely different reasons. 

And with all these sex/personals websites shut down on account of sex trafficking, you NOW have the audacity to claim you don’t care what a woman does for money? 

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

If that’s true bring back Backpages and Craigslist personals.

You won’t.

Admit it. You care.

Hypocrites.

I was about twelve years old when I had an inclination of what prostitution was. If you absolutely had to drive down less desirable neighborhoods in Minneapolis you would see the most unattractive women wearing next to nothing lined up along brick walls of dilapidated buildings, piles of garbage at their feet, just standing there waiting for Prince Charming, or any guy with $5 and a hard-on.

What consenting adults do behind closed doors is none of my business. I don’t care. So long as those closed doors aren’t in my home.

No one can keep a secret anymore. Sad. Every fight, every date, every new outfit, every meal is on social media before it even digests. 

Pictures or it didn’t happen!

Social media ALSO destroyed intrigue, rendezvous, liaisons, and memorable stately entanglements. 

Everything is now sexy.

Hey sexy.

Sexy girl.

Sexy shoes.

Let’s get sexy.

Sexy time.

Fuck off.

Justin Baldoni is an asshole. Reportedly his kid had an epic meltdown at Whole Foods, and he did... nothing. 

FUCK YOU

I shouldn’t be forced to listen to your shitty kid have a meltdown because you decided to breed. Take your shitty kid outside in the parking lot like a decent parent.

Oh. Sorry. I forgot. Asking parents to be decent and courteous human beings with their screaming kids isn’t politically correct. Again, FUCK YOU.

I wasn’t born yet in 1960 however I miss that era when I watch movies where parents locked up their toddlers in kiddy cages like in the 1960 movie ‘Please Don’t Eat The Daisies’. Parents in that black and white film repeatedly locked up the kid AND the dog in the same kiddy cage. Outstanding. Apparently locking up toddlers in kiddy cages was PC in the 60’s. Can we bring it back? 

Let the dog out. 

I care more about animals than people. 

Obviously. 

Moms and dads frying their little babies like bacon in the 107 degree Vegas heat just so mommy can get an Instagram selfie in front of a casino. 

Priorities!